#they also do the think if they state one another down

[foreingersgod]

ngl i be thinking about sleepy sex with kate like we’re both in bed tired but horny so we have to do smthn about it 😞

Needy . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: request ^

A/N: THIS IS POORLY WRITTEN SMUT, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

also someone asked for this a while ago in a request (kate martin x black!reader smut) but i think i lost it because i can’t find it! so i tired to keep this pretty neutral so that it will still work, but if you want me to write something different, please send the request in again!

my masterlist

“oh my god, kate” you all but moaned, attempting to whisper. her breathe was staggered, lips on your shoulder, tongue darting out to run along your skin.

“i know, baby” she sighed assuringly “i know”

she was leaned against the headboard, hair free from her signature ponytail and cascading down her shoulders. kate was completely bare of her clothes, having lazily discarded them when she arrived in your shared room for the night. her long legs were spread to make room for you, extending out onto the sheets. you however, were up against kate’s chest, legs hooked over her thighs as your pressed your cunt against hers.

you had already been asleep when kate got home, utterly exhausted from work. your boss was nagging you about paperwork, clients kept calling to complain, and it seemed that everything was going wrong that day. kate, too, was struggling. she wasn’t playing well the entirety of practice and coach was on her ass about it. she was overwhelmed and tried just the same. both of you were ready to call it quits for the day, just wanting to curl up in bed next to one another.

but when she laid down next to you, feeling you roll over and tuck yourself into her body, she couldn’t help the feeling that overcame her. when your leg draped over her waist, hips pressing into hers, she felt the familiar throbbing between her thighs. she needed you bad. she hated to wake you up when you were this tired, but it felt like she was going to explode.

so she shook you awake with a polite shove of your shoulder. she pressed sweet kisses to your cheek as your eyes fluttered open. you groggily asked what she was doing, wanting to fall back asleep, but you knew exactly what the answer was when you heard her voice. a mix between a whine and a groan escaped her throat.

i need you so bad…please

and that’s what led you to this moment, moaning quietly as you rolled your hips into kate’s. every bit of clothing was discarded on the floor below you in a state of urgency as you climbed atop of kate’s body. her strong hands guided you into postion, fitting you snuggly as you lowered yourself onto her.

she whimpered, relieved to feel the feeling of your pussy on hers. unable to handle the pleasure, she desperately grabbed at your tits, pinching your nipples gently to coax you to go faster. you complied, snapping your hips quicker and harder. exhaustion still held a tight grasp on your body which caused you to rest your head in the crook of kate’s neck. kate mirrored your tiredness, hands now guiding your hips to alleviate some of the work.

“that’s it,” kate moaned again, her voice was strained as her fingers dug deeper into your skin “fuckin’ me so good, baby”

you could feel the pleasure building up inside of you. head falling back in pleasure, your hands came up to rest on kate’s shoulder to steady yourself.

“kate kate kate” you mewled. your eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open “m’gonna cum-oh my god-i’m cumming i’m cumming”

she could feel you, soaking wet and pulsing beneath her. it was enough to make her bite her lip, suppressing the most pornographic moan she could possibly make. her legs tightened around yours as your humping reached its peak. she watched as your chest heaved as you panted, sweat dripping down your cleavage slowly.

“oh kate-” you gulped, knowing your high was approaching. she understood immediately, one of her hands coming to your messy folds to find your clit. her finger rubbed small circles on your bud, encouraging your orgasm as you continued to languidly move your hips.

“jesus christ…you’re doing so good, gonna make me cum” she was going ballistic, eyes about to roll to the back of her head in complete bliss “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop”

and you didn’t-you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to.

finally, she felt your body jerk against hers. your breathing became broken and you let out a satisfied, yet quiet cry as you reached your release. the action alone, paired with your rhythmic thrusts, was enough to push kate to her own orgasm. wetness pooled between you, dripping onto your thighs and sheets until you finally slowed your pace. kate was still riding out her high when you collapsed into her, arms enveloping around her neck.

“i love you” you muttered into her ear, finding the last bit of energy you had.

“love you more” she turned to place a kiss against the side of your head.

you could have laid there for hours if you could. having kate totally bare for you, mumbling sweet nothing into your ear. something you knew to be truly euphoric. it was a perfect moment and you wouldn’t trade that for anything, even the best sleep of your life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A/N: alright i don’t think i’m very good at writing smut, so apologies for how shitty this turned out

*no taglist (except for my bb @girlokwhatever) for this one because i’m too lazy to check account ages lol

[loversmantra]

FREE FALLIN' LOVE ADDICT!

synopsis. satoru's fingers look their best soaking wet.

content. gojo satoru x cisfem!reader. smut. minors do not interact. lowkey... househusband satoru and his working wife. making out. fingering. cum eating. drooling. size difference. not explicitly stated but this definitely reads as sub!satoru. foul language. "gojo satoru has the biggest praise kink in existence," i say from the top of my hill. he's kinda pathetic in this tbh but so am i so it's fine.

title from poplar st by glass animals

wc. 2.3k

message from noe. this started as something very different, very wholesome... then it became this. i was fighting demons. sorry. also this is lowkey my first time doing smut be nice to me pls. anyways @neptuneblue dis one is for you twiiin

satoru’s hands are much bigger than yours.

you’ve known this for a long time, of course. as a teen, he never missed an opportunity to remind you you were smaller than him: whether that be by holding something out of your reach or using that creature of an appendage to cover your entire face and muffle your complaints.

he didn’t outgrow his antics. his hands did, however, get even bigger.

but it’s one thing to know, to have the theoretic knowledge of it in the back of your mind. it’s another to have indisputable proof of it: his huge hand wrapped around your own, both warming it and dwarfing it.

satoru’s had his hands on you since the day you first met. rough, teasing — and later loving. soft. and you’re thinking about them a lot these days. you’re thinking of his hands everywhere.

his longs fingers wrapped around your throat. snug around your waist, tight on your hips. deep inside you. you’re thinking about it, a lot.

the wonderful contrast of cherry red flush on his cheeks, down his neck, down his heaving chest. the heat of his breath on your lips, crazed, feverish, delirious. wide smile, all teeth, as he puts his fingers on his tongue and sucks. baby blues rolling back, away from the conscious world and into something he keeps on a tight, tight leash. he’s so beautiful when he gets like this. you want him.

you’re thinking about it so much, these days. you’re thinking about him.

you’re thinking today might be the boiling point.

you’re thinking satoru looks way too good in this outfit… and his hand is just so much bigger than yours.

your workday ended with a text from your beloved, urging you to hurry home, because he had a lil’ surprise for you. knowing satoru, you were fully expecting to find him laying on the bed naked and oiled up, but the sight you were greeted with when you arrived home was very different — though no less delectable.

the "surprise" itself: satoru in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you. he turned to face you when the door closed softly.

and while this might seem strange to anyone — anyone except you — when paired with his text telling you to hurry, you knew exactly where his intentions lied. you’ve been experiencing him long enough.

he wanted to seduce you. and fuck him, it worked.

not like you needed much help there: you’ve been thinking about jumping his bones, among other things, twenty-four seven, for days. you’re wrapped around his finger. head over heels. thoroughly whipped.

but to be fair, who could blame you?

briefly, you pondered. how wonderful it is, you thought, to have this man taking care you after a long day. how wonderful it is, to be loved by such a cosmic being. to come home and find the house clean. to come home and smell dinner cooking.

you pondered — but not for long. something else drew your attention away from his loving acts of service.

black slacks stretched around his toned legs, glorious ass on full display — you could have bitten him right there. his pristine white shirt was tight on his torso, showing off his rippling muscles as he expertly chopped vegetables. his sleeves — struggling to keep his biceps in check, it almost seemed — were rolled up to his elbows. displaying his hands and forearms perfectly. damn him.

to top it all off: an apron tight around his slim waist. picture perfect househusband.

he looked good. good enough to eat.

and you could tell he thought the same of you in your tailored suit. you saw his eyes darken from all the way across the room.

this was all part of his plan, of course.

he smiled. washed his hands, didn’t wipe away the droplets. he raked his eyes all over you, dark, wanting.

“hi, baby,” he purred.

you took off your shoes hastily, hurried to his side, pushed him against the counter and pushed your lips against his…

…to end up here, dress shirt wide open, tongue down his throat, arms pinned to the kitchen island by his large, large hands. his poor apron forgotten across the room.

there isn’t an inch of free space between the two of you — satoru simply refuses to let you drift away. you can feel his impatience all over him, little whines escaping his lips that you drink eagerly, narrow hips pressed to the furniture as if to give himself relief. you won’t have it, you refuse. his relief will be you or nothing.

“how was your day, satoru?” you smile against him.

he returns it, body shivering at his name falling from your lips. his hot mouth trails down to your shoulder, to leave no part of you untouched, untasted. “missed you,” he whispers with a push of his hips against you.

“hm, is that it?”

a hand leaves yours to flatten on your belly — he pushes you down easily and takes his rightful place, right on top of you. white hair tickles your skin as he makes his way back up until… “yeah,” he grins, eyes so dark you can barely breathe. his smile is all teeth. “that’s it.”

without your permission your thighs move to rub against one another. it doesn’t escape him. you try to turn your head away, to flee from his teasing. he follows. he always does.

“look at me, pretty,” he bites into your neck. “you want something from me?”

you do — you want his fingers knuckles deep inside you. and the absolute best part is, you know how bad he wants it, too, to see you come undone with his touch. you see it, you feel it in his every move. the need.

you feel it in the tight grip his hand has on your own, on your waist to keep you pressed against the marble. in the very, very slight tremor of his thighs close to yours, kept tightly under his control. in the tensing, untensing of his every muscle — restraint he’s giving his all to maintain. in the glorious pink of his cheeks, the sweat already accumulating on his flawless skin. he wants it. he wants you to ask for it.

but your satoru’s been quite spoiled lately. he’s gotten used to getting his way every time, little prince. it wouldn’t hurt him to work for it. you want to make him work for it.

you don’t answer him. instead, you keep him busy with your tongue tracing his lips, one hand trailing your nails down the soft hair of his undercut — earning you another full body shiver — while with the other you unbuckle your belt on your own.

it’s easy, after that, to shove your hand under your panties. satoru pushes himself off you, to better watch.

you make a show of it, just for him. making sure to really coat your fingers with your slick. two tight circles on your clit aren’t enough to relieve the pressure, but you trust him to come around and take care of it — he’s so good at taking care of you. you throw your head back with a soft whine, arch yourself into him, and in the hot air you share with him your hand comes back up, fingers glistening.

he looks jealous. already, he’s moving — moving to take your hand in his and taste — but you won’t have it. before he can do anything about it, you pop your fingers into your mouth, sucking yourself off them.

satoru’s eyebrows knit briefly, but his smile widens. his breaths are reduced to pathetic, shallow pants. if you push him a little more, will you get him drooling, tongue hanging out like a puppy? you bet you could. but today isn’t the day to find out. you want his fucking fingers.

he doesn’t let you think about it any longer. “can i?” he rasps, leaning down. his tongue runs over his teeth.

you don’t think about it. you nod your head, and he dives.

licking into your mouth desperately, moaning like he's having the time of his life. it’s so easy to meet him halfway, to suck his tongue in your mouth, to swallow all his little whimpers — so good, baby, fuck — you want it all, so you take it all.

he only stops to rest against your mouth and whine, “you taste so good, i wish you could eat yourself out.”

he catches you completely off guard. you have no answer to that, so brilliantly, you say, “huh?”

he noses at your cheek and explains, “i want to eat your cum straight from your mouth.”

and that’s enough of that — you’ve run out of patience. you think you’ve wrecked him enough, in any case, to hear such things spewing out of his mouth. you feel him throbbing. you are, too.

“can’t have that, angel,” you pant against him. “but you can make me cum.”

you can feel his smile. “i thought you’d never ask.”

his fingers slide down your body, under your pants, taking the same route yours did. only it’s much harder for him — they’re much bigger.

satoru wastes no time. the stretch is immediate, big finger pushing into you slowly. your hand knitted in his hair tugs him down to you. his moan is even louder than yours.

he stays there for a moment, savoring it, licking at your lips, your neck, the underside of your jaw — moaning like an animal in heat, like he could cry from the relief your hot walls hugging his fingers bring.

cherry red on his cheeks, down his neck and the glimpse of his heaving chest his shirt gives you. hot pants fanning your lips. crazed. feverish. delirious. wide smile, canines glimmering in the light. oh, you’ve been waiting for this. you want more of him, you need more of him. your hands move against your will, almost tearing open his clothing. a huff of laughter warms your cheek.

but your love is as impatient as you.

a second finger pumps into you, slow and steady. you mewl, and with your encouragement satoru rises on his elbow to increase the pace.

“feel good, sweetheart?” he pants.

you couldn’t keep quiet if you tried.

“yeah,” you smile. “i feel fucking good.”

then you sink your teeth straight into his neck and delight at the wild buck of his hips, the sinful cry he gifts you.

his entire body moves with him. his hips grind into you, shameless, desperate, following his hand’s movement — and so does his tongue, fucking into your mouth like he wants you everywhere, wants to be inside you everywhere, wants to bury himself into you. drool drops down his chin. you drink it.

every beautiful sound that comes from him, every whimper, every harsh breath, every high-pitched moan is rewarded with a soft murmur of yours — so good, angel, so good for me, so good! his pace increases, his bicep is bulging, his back tenses, his eyes cross, he’s so close, you’ve got him right where you want him.

the pressure in your lower belly grows stronger with every expert stroke. he touches everywhere, a tender caress pumped into you by the strengths of his arm and pelvis together. mimicked perfectly by his tongue tugging at your lips, stroking your own, invading your mouth. you feel it grow, grow, until—

you come undone right there on his hand, in your pants, with a loud cry of his name, digging his nails into his shoulders — in retaliation, and partly to stave of his own orgasm, you’re sure of it, his bites the soft flesh of your neck, a wail dying in the back of his throat.

you come down together, chests rising and falling against one another, hot breaths warming the air around you. he’s still throbbing against your thighs, fingers slowed to shallow thrusting, as if he couldn’t bear to let the moment end just yet. you force him to still by smothering his hand with your thighs.

satoru makes his way back to your lips, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses and a singular bite on your cheek, one you answer with a giggle.

“that was a good one, baby,” he says against your mouth. “how many more can i give you?”

“depends. how many more can you take?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he smiles. his hand resurfaces from your underwear, soaked, glistening. he takes a moment to rub his fingers together, admire the slick, the feel of it all over his skin. you take the time he gives you to admire him.

he’s so beautiful, when he gets like this.

his hand rises, heading for his face. your gut clenches, thighs rubbing together in anticipation, a deep breath filling your lungs—

his tongue lolls out and his soaked fingers come to take their rightful place right onto it. his lips close around his hand. his cheeks hollow as he sucks.

baby blues rolling to the back of his head, satoru trembles, wracked with a full body shudder and a moan so sinfully loud you swear it echoes against the walls. his throbbing cock rubs on your thigh.

he allows himself one, two, three finger-deep thrusts into his mouth, practically fucking himself, gagging on his own hand, putting on the most wonderful show for you. just to make sure there’s not a droplet left.

then his fingers leave his mouth with a loud pop! and he looks back down at you. crazed. feverish. delirious. eyes so dark you can barely breathe.

looking good enough to eat.

later on, after a lot more cum from both parties and a well-deserved bath, you rush into the kitchen, praying your apartment isn’t about to burn down. satoru was, after all, supposed to be making you dinner.

when you lean over the countertops, you find that the stove was never on.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2024, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[janeyseymour]

Far From Home

for @jeridandridge

Summary: you're far away from home when you meet another Phillie's fan.

WC: ~3k

It’s just Melissa’s luck that her flight would get cancelled because of a hurricane sweeping over the Atlantic at this very moment. After a near brawl with one of the attendants because she insisted that it’s safe to fly (and it very much is not safe to fly), the redhead finds herself lugging her carry-on over to the restaurant bar with a huff.

“Whiskey, neat,” she sighs as she hands her card over to the bartender. “Please.”

“Flight get delayed?”

“Canceled,” she huffs. “They said they’d put me on the next flight out to Philly.”

“You’re a long way from home,” the bartender states softly. “Why you come all the way out here?”

“To Italy?” Melissa chuckles softly. “Because it’s Italy… and I was visiting my nonna.”

“So then why are you in such a rush to get back?”

“My baseball team is playing, and I have real nice tickets for tomorrow’s game,” the redhead explains. “Damn… they’re playing right now too. Any chance you get American sports to play over here?”

The bartender shakes his head. “But if you got an iPhone and can pull it up on there, I can cast it to the television so you can at least watch on the big screen while you figure everything else out.”

Melissa looks impressed and pulls out her phone. After a bit of work, the Phillies game is up on the screen, and the redhead is cheering along for her team with a beer now in hand.

Your flight from Italy back to the States was canceled. Of course it was. After a more than disastrous trip to Italy with your now ex-girlfriend, all you want to do is be in your apartment and curled up in your bed with a tub of ice cream and a glass of wine in hand. But now… you’re sitting in a restaurant bar while you wait for confirmation that the airline has put you on another flight home and seeing if they can put you up in a hotel for however long it will take to get back to Philly.

You have half a mind to go try to sleep off your exhaustion and anxiety, but something catches your eye. There’s a Phillies game on the big screen… in Italy? So, instead of finding a deserted corner, you sit down at the restaurant bar and pull out your phone. The bartender comes your way and pours you a drink when the Phillies are able to pull ahead of the Mets- the rival team.

“Hell yeah!” you raise your glass in the air with a smile. Schwarber was able to deliver again.

“You a Phillies fan?” the bartender chuckles.

“I bleed Philly,” you smile as your eyes stay trained on the screen. “Why do you even have this game playing? I didn’t think the Italians cared about baseball the way that Philadelphians do.”

“You aren’t the only Philadelphian in here,” he laughs as he points down towards the redhead at the other end of the bar, eyes also glued to the screen.

You cock your head to the side. “Wow.” She’s… really, really pretty. But you’re able to cover up that little gasp with the afterthought of, “Two Philadelphians in one little bar across the ocean.”

“She’s casting it from her phone right now,” the man tells you. Then he slides his way back down the bar to check on that beauty.

There’s something inside of you that wants to go over and talk to her- let her know that you think she’s beautiful. But… then you remember what you’re doing here. You just got dumped, and you don’t want to be that asshole who uses someone as a rebound. Especially not someone as stunning as her. So, you keep to your end of the bar while she keeps to hers. You don’t know it, but while you’re entranced by the screen and watching as Bryce Harper hits a ball that goes flying and Johan Rojas goes flying around the bases, she looks down to you, licking her lips subconsciously.

Your cheering at the screen as Rojas comes home and Harper slides into second pulls the redhead’s eyes from you and back onto the screen. Damn, she missed how that all went about.

She glances back in your direction, and your smile warms her heart. Deciding to take a leap of faith, she picks up her drink, gathers her bags, and makes her way down the bar.

“I missed what was happening,” you hear a voice. “Tell me what happened?”

“Rojas was on second, Schwarber and Realmuto struck out, and Harper hit a ball that found its way through. Rojas scored, Harper’s on second,” you recite the play, eyes still trained on the screen as Bohm tries to further the inning.

“Bohm’s gonna strike out,” the voice tells you.

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” the woman sighs. The truth is that she got the notification on her phone that he struck out and the inning was over.

She’s right, and as a commercial comes on, you finally turn. You don’t expect it to actually be that beautiful woman from the other end of the bar to be sitting next to you now, eyes watching you with wonder.

“Wow,” you whisper softly.

“What?” she asks you.

“I saw you from across the bar and thought you were pretty, but,” you cough awkwardly. “You’re more gorgeous than I thought.”

The woman smirks, and her eyes sparkle. She sticks out her hand for you to shake while saying, “Melissa.”

“Y/N,” you tell her as you shake her hand. “The bartender told me you’re the one casting the game right now?”

“I am,” she tells you. “Born and raised a Philly fan from South. You?”

You break out into a smile. “Born and raised in the ‘burbs of Philly, moved to Center City Philly a few years ago for work… I’ve been cheering for Philly teams since I could talk.”

“Yeah?” Melissa chuckles.

After a few taps on your phone, there’s video of you at the age of two dressed in an Eagles cheerleader outfit and singing the fight song playing.

The redhead next to you grins as she watches. When it’s finished, she hands you back your phone. “That’s fuckin’ precious.”

You blush. “It’s… definitely something.”

She goes to say more, but the Phillies broadcast comes back on, and you’re both taken to the screen. The two of you cheer together and boo the other team together as the game continues. 

In between innings, you chat and get to know Melissa more. You come to find that she’s a second and third grade teacher at a public school in center city- one that you pass by on your walk to work almost everyday. You find that she knows a lot of people. You also find that she’s somewhat of a legend when it comes to the casinos down in Atlantic City- as it turns out, she’s the ‘Red Hot’ that you hear people talking about as you would mill around the casino floor. But you also learn that her eyes sparkle when she talks about the things she’s passionate about. You discover that her laugh is a source of happiness for you. You’ve also learned that her smile is something that could light up Center City Philadelphia all on its own. She has you absolutely enchanted with her being.

It isn’t until the bottom of the ninth inning when you recognize the fact that she’s holding your hand in anticipation, and she has been holding your hand since… since the first full inning that you watched together. 

When it’s announced that the Phillies won, she’s jumping up out of her seat and hugging you tightly. You of course embrace her back with the same ferocity.

But now that the game is over, nothing is keeping her from sitting next to you. And you feel… disheartened by that? Upset that she’s probably going to leave and you’ll never see her again? You don’t know.

It doesn’t matter though, because she’s sitting back down on her barstool, taking your hand again, and sipping her beer. “So…”

The two of you continue to talk for hours. It isn’t until both of your phones ping that you look away from each other.

“Uh,” you sigh. “They put me up in a hotel room, so I guess I should head out.”

“Me too,” the redhead breathes quietly.

“I had a really nice time watching the game with you,” you tell her softly. “Like… it made me feel like I wasn’t stranded in the middle of another country without a way to get home for who knows how long.”

“Where did they put you up?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, and her eyes light up. “That’s where I am too. Should we split a cab to get there?”

When you do get there, she checks herself in and then helps you check in. It’s a sweet gesture, and your rooms are next to each other as luck would have it.

“Would you want to come in?” she asks you as she unlocks her own door.

You smile. “Just give me a few to settle in, but then I’ll be over.”

Melissa and you spend the rest of the day together, walking around the little city that you find yourself in, picking up beer and wine, and then spending the rest of the time in her hotel room drinking and talking about everything. It’s not anything like what you expected being stuck in another country alone would be like. You’re not alone now though, Melissa is keeping you company. A small part of your mind wonders what your ex-girlfriend is doing… because she’s stuck in Italy now too- probably finding the first woman who was gay and throwing herself at her.

You’re in a tipsy haze as the two of you lounge on her bed watching whatever show in English you can find. And then… her lips are on your own. Oh god. She’s kissing you.

You pull away gently and sigh. “Melissa, I-”

“I read the situation wrong,” she says immediately and pulls away. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” you promise her. “I just… fuck. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and as much as I am attracted to you, I don’t want to use you as a rebound.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s mouth forms into a small ‘O’. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to be the jackass who uses someone as beautiful and as sweet as yourself to rebound,” you say again. “I just… I’m not like that.”

She sits up just slightly. “I respect that. Thank you for… for not doing that.”

You just nod. “I suppose now that I made it awkward, I should see myself-”

“Stay,” the redhead tells you softly. “Just because we aren’t going to hook up doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company- as a friend.”

You settle back down onto the bed.

That was two days ago. In the two days since that kiss, you’ve still spent all of your unexpected time in Italy with Melissa. She’s… if you weren’t in the situation you’re in, you would be all over her. Maybe… maybe once you get back to the states and a respectable amount of time has passed. But for now, the two of you are getting ready to get on the flight back to Philly.

You’re not sure what strings she pulled, but you’re seated next to each other for the nearly nine hour flight. The two of you are already seated when your ex-girlfriend passes by, arm linked with a very pretty girl. She sneers at you.

“That her?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Already moved onto the next.”

“You could do better,” the green eyed woman smirks. “And you’re a better person for not doing what she’s doing to me.”

In your own dozing state, you feel Melissa’s head drop down to your shoulder, and it brings you a small sense of happiness. You let her continue to rest that way until you know her neck is going to be paying for it if she sleeps that way any longer.

“Mel,” you shake her gently. “Mel, you gotta wake up, or your neck is going to be killing you when we land.”

She blearily opens her eyes and looks at you, confused. Right… she’s wearing earplugs and headphones and can’t hear you. You type out on your phone what you’re trying to convey, and she nods. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths. It’s only a few minutes later that you feel her head again, although this time she’s laying across the middle seat and has her head in your lap. You just smile to yourself as you close your eyes again, a hand draping itself gently over her hip.

The next time the two of you wake up, the flight attendant is looking at Melissa very unhappily. The seatbelt light had gone on while you were both asleep, and you were beginning the descent. With a frustrated huff, the redhead sits up and buckles her seatbelt.

Once the plane lands, all hell breaks loose as it always does what with everybody in a rush to get off the plane and home. And in the chaos, you lose sight of Melissa. You go to text her or call her before you realize that you never actually got her number. The time that the two of you spent together was constant, and there was no need to be able to contact each other over the phone when she was always right next to you. Exhausted and frustrated, you let out a groan.

Deciding that you should probably just get your belongings and try to hail a cab to head home, you make your way to the luggage carousel. You wait for what feels like forever- hoping that Melissa will make her way over to you. Only once you’re positive that there is no more luggage on that particular belt do you give up and go home. You don’t know that she’s doing the same thing on the other side of the loop. There’s a pole blocking your sight. 

You think about her on the Uber ride home, you think about her while you eat dinner, you think about her while you’re preparing for bed and when you’re crawling into bed. You dream of her. You can’t believe you were stupid enough to not get her number after spending three entire days with her.

Similarly, in a townhouse not too far from where you reside, Melissa is kicking herself. She knows that you’ve just broken up with your girlfriend- she knows that you don’t want to use her as a rebound. And somehow, she’s still mad that she didn’t get your number. She… she wouldn’t mind being your rebound, and she doesn’t have a doubt that it would turn into something more than just a rebound… if she had your number to contact you. She supposes what happens in Italy stays in Italy. 

On Monday morning, you still can’t get that redheaded beauty out of your head- you can’t even why you try to busy yourself with literally anything else. So… you take fate into your hands. You know she works at the school down the street from your office, so you take it upon yourself to call in late to work, explaining that you have a few personal things to take care of as you pull into the Abbott Elementary school parking lot.

You see her pull in, and after a quick glance at your appearance in the rearview mirror, you deem yourself put together enough to face again. You slide out of your car and call her name.

She looks… shocked. Her jaw drops open as she watches you step out of your car.

“Y/N?” she calls out.

You jog up to her car. “Listen, I know I’m probably coming off as a stalker right now, but 

I just… I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts as we lost each other in the airport. I wanted to call or text, but I didn’t have your number. And then I remembered you work here, and I literally work right down the road, and my boss is probably going to kill me for being late on my first day back in two weeks, but-”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” she cuts you off as she reaches for your hand.

You pull her into your arms gently before pressing your lips to hers. “Look, I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I knew I couldn’t let you go that easily, and I don’t want to be a jackass and use you as a rebound, but-”

“I’m here,” Melissa whispers to you as she pulls you back in for another kiss. “I’m here when you’re ready for whatever you think this might turn into. For now though, we can be friends… we can hang out like we did in Italy.”

“Yeah?”

The teacher smiles at you. “Of course. I actually have two tickets for tomorrow’s game if you wanted to come with me?”

“I thought you had tickets for the game while we were Italy?”

She shrugs. “I told you, I know a guy… I was able to contact him while we were there, and he just exchanged my tickets.”

You grin. “I would be delighted.”

Her smile matches yours. “Wonderful. If I could just get your number so we could arrange to meet tomorrow? And then I really do have to get into my classroom… prepping a science lesson.”

“Yeah, of course,” you fumble for your phone in your bag and hand it over. She texts herself with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” you ask hopefully.

She kisses your cheek. “For sure.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello again I have an idea that might–i guess– interest you so here we go :))

I have this idea where Tim has a scythe in his Bō staff and everyone is just confused and concerned because he is starting to look like a grim reaper. Also the weapon + his fighting style is like a character named Arlecchino from genshin impact (if you play it), so he can do some cool poses and when he fights everyone sees that his fighting style look dangerous but elegant as he dances with his scythe while humming a tune which makes any rouges or enemies off guard by his calm demeanor (but they won't lie that Tim looks absolutely stunning with his staff/scythe that has some sort of black magic in it, idk).

Anyway— getting sidetracked, when Tim got asked by the Bats how he got it and he just said "I make this weapon all by myself without anyone helping me, so if you wanted this baby? Make it by yourself" he huffs while turning away with a proud look.

Also I think the JL will have these shocked faces as they look towards batman to gain some answers of how RR has a scythe and he just said "he was bored so he makes it by himself." And just like that every JL member started calling Tim "Reaper", which for Tim is weird and too dark.

But anywaysss, the YJ also have the same exact expression as the JL but they quickly brush it off and let Tim do his "Grim reaper" things. And they also would sometimes brag about their friend, Tim, that they have a cool leader who is graceful, amazing, sometimes annoying, smart— and yadda yadda, bcs who wouldn't want to brag that they have a fuckin Reaper as a Leader.

Idk if Tim actually has powers that actually take people's souls but the imagination is there :33

Ooh!!!! A retractable scythe in his Bō staff?

Okay! I treasure when the Bats have cryptic/eldritch rumors about them that they purposefully feed into.

Tim would make his humming into a warning when he's not actively fighting. For the situations that require it, he would throw his voice around the room as his hum rang out. Some goons, upon hearing the noise and knowing the rumors about the "reaper," would lay down their weapons, put their hands up, and slowly walk away. Whatever they are getting paid is not worth the chance of him taking their soul.

I'm not sure what ideas you had for the timeline of when he added the scythe. One route is that, after he trained with Shiva, Tim quickly stumbles upon this option (particularly if it's an added lesson from Shiva).

Here's what I'm thinking instead:

Red Robin was surrounded by assassins all alone until he befriended three of them. He already was breaking a ton of rules and crossing lines for his cause. Yet, he refrained from any that Bruce wouldn't forgive. There's always another option. Tim can figure out how to save the day without resorting to violence.

Under a blanket of stars as the sand shifted beneath his knees, Tim couldn't help but desire a blade. His staff, while it could be deadly, proved ineffective in his weakened state. There wasn't a way he could defeat his opponent. Tim was doomed to die and drag Pru down with him.

He was lucky to regain consciousness long enough to drag them to help, but Tim didn't like resorting to luck. He utilized plans and contingencies, not the whims of the universe. Life is unpredictable, but Tim could at least pretend he was prepared.

So, with LoA knowledge at his disposal, the teen learned how to sharpen his weapon. Tim crafted a tool that could easily kill. Upon its completion, he felt a small sense of that safety he had lacked since he was fourteen.

As fitting to a person so surrounded by death (his mom, dad, Darla, Bart, Kon, Z, Owens, Bruce), Tim fastened a scythe blade to his Bō staff.

When he returned, Gotham, the JL, and YJ learned of the "reaper." Tim is glad his friends accepted him readily.

Later, when Tim has settled into his new forms and fighting styles, he'll sneak on over to Drake Manor. In a basement filed with tomes, research papers, artifacts, and notes, the teen with etch symbols and words into the metal. It's another tool and hail mary he hopes to never use.

He's learned his lessons about instilling limits for the sake of others.

[muffinsin]

Hear me out…hear me out.. G!P donna x reader where Donna catches the (fem) touching themselves while holding a picture of her?

(Idk I’m touch deprived.)

Oh hell yeah! I’m pairing this one with another ask for Donna I’ve got🙌

Some more Donna appreciation on this blog? It’s more likely than you think! Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

She stalks the dark hallway, down, down, a little more. She knows exactly what you’re up to. She felt, heard, saw and knew all at once when you began your naughty game.

What especially caught her off guard though, was the raw want for her displayed by her picture clutched in your shaking hand.

Too warped in the pleasure you experience, you didn’t and still don’t notice the heads of several dolls turned your way. You don’t yet know she is watching.

She watches, like a predator might watch its prey. Though, her eyes are loving, if a little stern and dark. Possessiveness and arousal seems to flood her whole being, so much so she feels the pheromones coming off the plants in the house.

Perhaps, she is close to warping your mind a little in this state. She is dangerously close to doing so, certainly.

Donna watches quietly as she hears your thoughts, the naughtiness, the desperation, the arousal, the pleasure.

And even as she steps closer, past the hall, in the doorway, she is still one with the shadows. She stands quiet, entirely still, save for her twitching fingers and flexing thighs.

Her dark eye glances over your form on the bed.

Beautiful, bare naked, your smooth skin stretched out on the warm brown sheets. Your hair strands, sprawled out around you, creating a pattern she wishes to trace.

She sees your spread legs, shaking slightly, more the harder your fingers push into your sopping wet pussy. She smells your aroma in the air.

Subtly, she inhales and groans quietly to herself.

You’re a naughty girl today, it seems, believing you could take what is rightfully hers.

Your moans, breathy, loud, fill the room quickly. Donna grows more tense the more she hears, and feels herself become harder the more sounds escape your lips.

She feels it between her legs already, the large cock that causes the rather obvious tent in her dark dress. She feels the wetness against her boxers, the precum leaking from her already.

Then, a single sound leaves your lips that has her snap.

“A-Ahh, Mommy”~

You moan, a curl of your fingers in the right spot enough to lure this particular petname from you.

She moves fast, less moves, even. She rather appears on top of you, her fingers closing around your wrists tight, nearly like shackles.

Her gaze is hungry, her eye even darker than normal.

“What did you say?”, she rasps out, her voice rough and unpracticed. You shiver and gasp in surprise. It’s rare for her to actually talk, rather than use other means of communication.

Her voice immediately sends a jolt of pleasure from your chest to your very core. If your wrists were not restrained, maybe you’d raise them to her shoulders or hips.

Her gaze only hardens for a moment. Your eyes widen, as though reminded of the question asked. She’s close, her beautiful lips parted. Moments pass, you feel as though lost in her eye. She pulls you in, quite literally, but also your mind feels pulled in. You feel as though the pheromones of her plants dig right into your skull, yet, you are not in pain. You feel soothed, warmer, more flustered. You feel slightly less in control of yourself, and light, as though you are a puppet to the dollmaker. And really, would that be so bad?

You nearly forgot your fingers have been pulled from you; yet, the warmth inside of you barely has you notice the emptiness yet. That is, until you grow more aware of the tent in her dress, the hardness pressing up between your warm, upper thigh.

She clears her throat, the sound oddly loud in the quiet room. You feel as though torn from a clouded, quiet world.

At last, you speak.

“Mo-Mommy”, you repeat, your voice a mere whisper. Your pussy clenches at the mere words and her presence. Of course, she is always with you. You merely don’t always know.

A smile spreads on her lips, happy, pleased, hungry.

Your wrists are released, yet you are dominated enough by her mere presence to stay still unless instructed otherwise.

“My lady…”, you whisper breathlessly.

You watch, mouth watering, as smooth, black fabric comes off her body. First her dress, then her bra. Full breasts and light, dusty pink nipples that are already hard greet you. Her smooth skin glistens in the dim light of the room. Her hair is let down next, and you feel your body reacting yet again as a wave of her scent hits you. Your holes tighten automatically, a fresh layer of wetness dripping out of you. Your nipples harden instantly, your back arches slightly as you feel shivers run up and down your spine.

She’s beautiful, a goddess in your eyes.

Little do you know, you are the very same to her.

She cups your cheek softly and you no longer jump when you hear her familiar voice invading hour mind.

“Take them off”

No more instructions are needed, so that your hands immediately shoot forwards, your fingertips gently hooking into the waistband of her bulged boxers.

You pull them down slowly, each inch revealing more of her creamy skin.

Your thighs clench together at the sight of her thick crimson tip. The head is big, leaking, and sensitive. You moan lowly under your breath at the mere sight.

When her boxers are pulled down entirely, her large cock slips completely free. Slightly curved, large in size, and dripping, it slaps against your thigh. You moan, her eye still set on you even when your hand wanders to her cock.

Your eyes widen in surprise when she moves quickly again. One moment she is straddling your hips, in the other your face serves as a seat for the length of her cock. You feel it pressed up against your cheek and forehead, warm, wet, leaking precum onto your skin.

“Open up for Mommy, my most beautiful doll”, comes her voice in your head again.

You don’t even think of denying her.

As your fingers clasp the picture of her tighter, your lips part and your mouth stretches open.

And Donna wastes no time at all. She slides herself deep down your throat, her curved dick making you gag within moments. Her hips thrust slowly, but deep and precise. You feel your wrists be released in favor of her wandering hands finding and caressing other parts of your body. You feel strong, but delicate fingertips push into your hips, feel the featherlight touch of them against your bulged throat.

Tears come to your eyes from the constant gagging on her cock. You can, by now, fit her inside your mouth rather comfortably, though you doubt you will ever be able to do so without gagging and clenching around her. You can barely breathe with your spit in the way, instead feel her cock throb in your mouth from the messy and sloppy blowjob she is given.

And Donna? She thrives off it.

Her hips shake a little, her thighs and muscles are tense. She’s close, you know, but you also know your lover can hold herself right at the edge for long.

Precum leaks down your throat, feeding you her sweet cum bit by bit.

Almost offended, she slaps your hand away when you attempt to touch yourself.

“Little doll, you know I can do better”

The use of her voice catches you off guard. For a moment, you gasp, then choke, then gag, then drool some more. A low, deep chuckle is heard from her. She eases up a little, merely enough for you to breathe despite the spit smeared against your lips and her cock.

You groan and moan when her fingers push into you instead, having slid down from your throat. Of course, the dollmaker is exceptionally skilled with them. Of course, the knows this.

Curling and turning, thrusting and grinding, she brings you closer and closer to the edge. Her eyes flicker between your eyes, your throat, your body, and the picture of her held tightly between your fingertips.

You nearly whine when she plucks it from you, but even if you tried, the cock in your mouth would barely allow sound to pass. As such, she rests it on the nightstand and clasps your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.

Your legs tremble soon, the light, overwhelming feeling rising in your stomach. You feel it, your orgasm, approaching faster and faster.

Her knuckles slide into you, until her fingers are buried deep in you and she’s palming your pussy with each stroke into you.

Her thumb rises to rub against your clit. Small circles at first, featherlight, then harder. Your body jerks on the bed as you’re stimulated.

“Would you like to cum, beautiful doll of mine?”

You shiver at her words. And while words can’t escape your lips, you plead with your eyes as best as they allow you to. You whimper, whine, moan, widen your eyes and try to nod. Your pussy clenches around her fingers, your clit grows even warmer, your nipples harden painfully.

A smirk.

“Cum”

A command, not an offer. A command from her, but also from your very body, it seems. Whether her touch or the pheromones surrounding the two of you, you feel pushed over the edge the second the words leave her dark-painted lips.

Your back arches and you groan around her cock as you cum, your vision blurry for a mere moment as you choke again and tears run down your cheeks.

Yet, you taste the delicious liquid that is her as it is shot down your throat in ropes of cum. She’s moaning lowly, her cheeks flushed slightly, her balls throbbing, her tip overly sensitive in your mouth.

When she pulls out, to your surprise, you see a string of cum and spit connect you to the tip.

Alas, she is far from done with you yet.

Giving neither of you time to truly recover from this ecstasy, you feel her fingers slide out of you and join her other hand in grabbing your hips.

“Ti stai divertendo, non è vero?”, she hums, a playful smile on her lips. “Let me join in on your little game then, my darling doll”

A scream, a breathless “Mommy…!” slips past your lips when first her huge tip, then the rest of her slides into you.

You’re settled against her, her balls pressed flush against your ass cheeks for a moment. Then, the woman begins to thrust, though. Or rather; rut. She feels feral from the name alone, this much is clear by now. You feel her loving touch, her hands kneading and savouring the touch of your skin. A sharp contrast to her hard and deep thrusts, her cock working your pussy sore and stretching it out.

Your head is thrown back, a string of moans and gasps leaving you.

“Mommy!”

“Yes! Yes yes!”

“Please, my lady! Yes! YE-YES!”

You feel sensitive, warm, and utterly loved. Kisses are trailed over your chest and neck, hands explore your body lovingly. Her curved cock hits all the sensitive spots deep inside your body, none any other could ever each.

As your eyes struggle to stay open, you feel the light feeling rise and bubble up in you again. You’re lightheaded, almost, high on the pleasure.

Your lover seems to have a similar feeling. Donna’s grip tightens on you, her thrusts become faster, more desperate.

You beg, “please, mommy, please, my lady, let me cum again..!”

And your darling lover, how could she ever refuse you?

She cums with you, her low groans and moans of pleasure a contrast to your loud, breathless moans and screams. You feel her cum in you, warm, thick, enough for you to feel it wholly in you.

When she attempts to move out, your legs swiftly hook around her and whines fall from your lips. How could she, if she is keeping you so very warm and comfortable?

A soft smile crosses her lips, and you join in on it when she merely pushes herself back inside wholly and leans down on the bed with you. She’s rested on top of you, her hair tickling your neck slightly.

Your hand finds her brown hair, her hands cup your cheek. As you share a kiss, you smile. You know, she will take care of you.

[fynnlink]

"The Dragon Prince" Theory for Book 6 "Stars" concerning the star "Leola's Last Wish" and the Identity of Leola herself and what her "Last Wish" might have been. Plus some speculation regarding "The Merciful One" and Aaravos

Possible Spoilers but I'm mostly just theorising.

SPOILERS

Okay so quick recap for those who only watch the series and don't interact with other content:

Leola was once a unicorn who once gave the Humans their first Primal Stones, thus granting them access to magic before they later learned / turned to Dark Magic. She was also said to have been "unique" amongst her kind.

Later after the Humans had learned dark magic they hunted the unicorns to near extinction, to use them to empower their magic. This is also what makes the unicorn horn in the earlier Books so rare and Claudia's finding it such a feat.

So on to the theory:

According to Aaron Ehasz the elven child in the drawing below (seen in the credits of an episode and more importantly in the Star-chart/map in the new Intro) is none other than Leola herself.

Tweet from Aaron Ehasz talking about the drawing of the Elf Child

Star Map in the new "Mystery of Aaravos" Intro (same drawing in the center on the left)

While I'm neither arguing against or trying to "disprove" the stated theory of "Startouch Elves = Unicorns", I'm instead focusing on another part of the drawing and the greater lore of TDP as a whole. (Whether there is a specific connection between Startouch Elves and unicorns beyond a shared Primal Source is ultimately irrelevant to my theory but it's an interesting thought nonetheless.)

As stated/shown in Book 5 Episode 2 "Old Wounds" the Elves of Xadia call the brightest star in the sky "Leola's Last Wish" (as opposed to the Humans calling it "The South Star" which is probably a play on our own "North" Star). What interests me is the fact it is specifically called Leola's Last Wish and the fact that this star is the brightest of all.

It's also interesting that Rayla doesn't know who Leola was joking that she might have been a friend of Garlaath the Annihilator (which might have been the case but we don't know. Garlaath might be seen wielding an axe and shield on the right side of the star map though this is also unconfirmed.)

While we do not yet know why or exactly when Leola became a unicorn we do know it must have been before the Splitting of Xadia and probably before - around the founding of Elarion 2000+ years before the begin of Book 1.

Regardless of why, we know Leola was once an elf (maybe even a Startouch Elf) who later became a unicorn. It is my theory that Leola's "Last Wish" was the one that turned her into a unicorn and the drawing above shows the exact moment she wished upon a star. This would also explain why Leola was "unique" among the unicorns.

Furthermore I believe that Leola's wish was granted by "The Merciful One" a Startouch Elf first shown in one of the new promo clips "Elf Sad" which features Aaravos (possibly just after his literal and metaphorical "Fall") being visited by T.M.O above the Sea of the Castout. This is also the same place where we first see the two statues of Aaravos and T.M.O back in B5 E9.

This clip also shows "The Merciful One" in much brighter, even glowing garments as opposed to Aaravos' cold and dark ones. While this is most likely because of his Fall (the star symbol on his chest is also black and his clothes look damaged/ripped), the entire scene draws attention to The Merciful One connected to the brighter purple/red/gold of the stars and nebulae. This contrast between Aaravos' dark and T.M.O's light/colour is most noticeable in the top-down shot below.

I do think the difference in attire has more to do with Aaravos' "Fall" than with The Merciful One themselves but these two theories aren't mutually exclusive.

I believe "The Merciful One" is this brightest star, the one known to the Elves as "Leola's Last Wish" and the Humans' "South Star" thus why I speculate a connection between them and Leola.

[thefirstknife]

glad to see that ppl are aware that nimbus doesn't deserve the hate they get bc it stems from them being nonbinary! but i also see them be compared to cayde a lot, which i understand. but ppl are like "they're basically another cayde" and idk how i feel about that. it seems weird and ignorant to sideline them as cayde but nonbinary when nimbus is more than that despite our lack of interactions + lore w/ them. ppl already had a hard time comprehending how they processed their grief through humor and their recklessness in the deterministic chaos mission so it's no surprise they just view them as a cayde comparison :/ sorry, i could be overthinking things i'm not sure. what do you think?

I feel similarly, it feels a bit reductive to just boil them down to another Cayde, though I understand the comparison. People mostly say it because a lot of the hate for Nimbus is the, genuinely, fake outrage over a character being a little silly and humorous at odd times which is strange because everybody loved Cayde who acted the same. And imo, with fewer good reasons for it as well; although both Cayde and Nimbus hide behind a persona to mask their feelings, I feel like Cayde, one of the Vanguard leaders with hundreds of years of experience under his belt should be a little less silly than a rookie Cloud Strider who's never had anything happen to them in their short life until the start of the expansion.

They're both different characters, but share some similarities in how they're perceived so I understand the comparison especially when people ONLY hate Nimbus for "making jokes." And you have to ask "If you dislike characters making jokes, how can you like Cayde then?" It's always people's first association when someone complains about a character making jokes. I don't think people often think of them as just copies of each other, it's just a natural comparison to draw when people pretend to be bothered by jokes.

I also feel like both of these characters have jokes that are a product of their time; this isn't unusual of course, but people tend to look down on anything new. Naturally, the jokes from MY youth were good and funny, the jokes the kids have these days are cringe and bad. That's essentially it.

I like both of them for their own reasons and I enjoy both of their humour styles. Also, a lot of people thought Cayde's behaviour in vanilla D2 was super cringe btw, I remember people being fairly annoyed that he was "cracking jokes" in the middle of one of the, arguably, worst situations the setting has ever been in (Red War, loss of Light). A lot of people don't remember that, but people did NOT like Cayde's silliness. I understand why, but I never really had an issue with it; it was just a relief from all the gloom otherwise. I think it makes sense to add a little bit of silly, and I think the same applies to Nimbus.

This is why people tend to compare the two! And then you look at all of that and you wonder why Nimbus is the one getting the hate and in most cases it boils down to transphobia. Not always, people can dislike the character for other reasons; but in a LOT of cases, online especially, it's just that. It's evident from the misgendering and the type of hate being hurled around which went as far as insulting the devs and the VA (who is nonbinary and spoke publicly about finding it hard to find work because of their identity). Again, people can dislike Nimbus for other reasons too, but it's really hard to divorce the overwhelming hate for Nimbus from their identity and the state of the gaming community currently.

[wariolandthepipdimension]

DAY 5 ~~ A SHIP

hello extremely tiny circle of lemoncino shippers

look at my cookie yaoi boy

i added this prompt simply as an excuse to draw my bois doin a kith

i haven't drawn peperoncino as a human in a long time and never have i posted anything related to "humanized" lemon to the public besides in gacha life 2 edits

h. lots of headcanons and extra info below the cut because i love these boys. uhh there's also a slightly nsfw hc too but i added a warning

when i was drawing this i was trying to draw lemon's jacket but it turns out the outline color is the same as his hair so i had to invert it to get it correct but i liked the color so i kept it

the reason why peperoncino is in a wheelchair is unfortunately not because of lemon (i wish it was) but because of something too graphic to talk about on this post. long story short is he got torn in half by two pieces of metal in the ocean and survived three more hours before being found by lemon. i have a more in-depth explanation on a different post in the ship tag

apparently one of my hcs for lemon is he's a sentient robot so in the drawing he has a data panel on the back so in his cookie form other cookies could check in on him but because of the whole electricity becoming too dangerous and everyone becomes scared of him thing he was. kinda neglected by the scientists

another hc related to the previous one. orange wated to take a mechanics class once she found out that lemon was a robot because she didn't wanna see him deteriorate but lemon told her he was fine on his own

i would like to talk more about lemon but this isn't about him. boowomp.mp3

so a couple of headcanons about lemon and peperoncino's relationship. uh. so lemon and peperoncino spent a lot of time together in the hospital but during the first couple days peperoncino couldn't speak any comprehensible words because he was so tired but lemon magically knew what he was trying to explain to him and since lemon treated him so nicely and understood him he started to get really comfy around him and then lemon noticed that and started to have feelings for him but repressed them because he would probably just lose him (peperoncino felt the same and he repressed his attraction too)

usually both parties don't like speaking to others or physical touch but they just now reserve it for one another

sorry for headcanon dumping about lemon on a peperoncino post but i prommy this is relevant to the ship. so about orange using lemon to "recharge." how that works is orange just hugs lemon for a prolonged amount of time (which lemon does not like because of the previously stated headcanon) which kinda transfers energy from him to the other cookie which tires lemon out.

so what lemon does is he plugs himself in (there's a special charging port in between his legs where a reproductive organ would usually be) and when he rests he only puts himself on sleep mode (not completely shutting down because the energy transfer system won't work that way) and hugs peperoncino. triple win situation because he doesn't tire himself out while charging his bf and all the while he gets to cuddle with him :D!!!!!!!

(nsfw) uhhh do you think peperoncino ever stuck his fingers into the cha- *gets sent to the backrooms* but yeah. the charging port is really sensitive and it's possible for lemon to be at the stripped club. straight up "jorking it". and by "it"? haha well. lets justr say. his chargign port

tsunku ♂️ forbid lemon finds out peperoncino gets flustered easily because y'all know he's gonna use it to his advantage (spoiler alert: he did in fact find out)

uhhhh those are all of my headcanons for now uhhhhh gets in my clown car and speeds away and drifts and

[grandline-fics]

Dance With The Devil

DESCRIPTION: You first meet through a dance

WARNINGS: mention of a death but nothing graphic

CHARACTERS: Rob Lucci

WORDS: 1,204

A/N: Don’t know where this idea came from or how I feel about the result but I decided to go with it and give one of the villains some love while I was at it. First time writing for Lucci so hopefully they turned out okay. If there’s interest for this I might do a couple more with this idea for different characters.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

By all accounts if he were to carry out yet another assassination this setting was one of the more preferable for him. Civilians of high stature mingling; all of them enjoying fine food, richer tasting wine, sharing the recent buzz of salacious gossip, and some of them sure to be part of tomorrow’s rumour mill from their current behaviour Lucci was silently observing. So many of them thought they were being discreet and it was laughable in his keen gaze. Truly those with no training like he had were so clumsy and obvious, it was laughable. Still he supposed for many in this room, this was their only real thrill and excitement they’d get in their lives. As he lifted his champagne glass to his lips, his sharp eyes zeroed in on his target across the room. A man with more money than sense and had clearly led a lavish life thanks to those riches. While Lucci had orders to kill the man he also had orders to steal the very thing that made him so rich; a ledger filled with critical information so valuable it could buy a kingdom ten times over. He needed to wait for his target to retire to his suite and kill him there and steal the ledger at the same time.

“Sir?” He barely flickered his gaze down to register who’d decided to stand beside him. The movement of his eyes was enough to signal that he heard you speak to him but he offered no other response. Knowing he was listening was enough and you continued. “I hate to bother you but is there anyway I could trouble you for a dance? It’d help me shake some…undesirable attention.” Lucci glanced at you a little more and then followed where you were discreetly pointing  behind you as you pretended to fix your hair. Slowly he caught sight of two individuals eyeing you.  Lucci considered your request for a moment. He was to remain undercover and blend in. Dancing wouldn’t be out of the question, if anything it could help him. 

Wordlessly he set his drink down on a table he’d been standing near and took your hand, leading you to the filled dance floor. Together you fell into perfect sync with the waltz playing. Slowly you followed Lucci’s stare to catch the man who had his silent attention. “Interesting…” you mused, only looking at the man with disinterest. “Didn’t think he’d be your type. You love a man with a large bank account? Or does the bald head and lecherous smile just really do it for you?” You asked with a smirk to see his lips twitch slightly. “I won't be jealous if you want me to swap places with him.” You offered. 

“Not necessary.” Lucci finally uttered and you playfully gasped in surprise as he broke his gaze from the target to stare at you with empty eyes. 

“So he does speak.” You teased, “And here I thought a cat had your tongue this whole time. Not that I mind. The strong, silent type of persona can be quite attractive when used right."

“I’ve never heard any complaints so far.”

“Humour too.” You smirked before looking behind you to see your annoyances had thankfully moved on and then glanced once more at the object of your dance partner’s attention. “Thief or assassin?” 

Your question came lower than a whisper but to Lucci he heard it perfectly. Both his eyes and grip on you hardened slightly and yet you gave no reaction. There was no fear in your eyes, just a familiar coldness. 

“For all you know I could be his bodyguard.” He stated, leading you smoothly into the second song. At his implication your smile returned with ease, continuing to dance with him as carefree as you had entered the dance floor with him. You were making no attempt to pull out of his hold. 

“Oh honey, I’m not treating you like a fool so offer me the same courtesy.” You answered. “I know every face here and I also know which bodyguards belong to each guest. So you’re here for something else.” Lucci glared down at you and your smirk grew. “There’s that strong, silent type again. Well regardless of what you’re here to do you’ll get your chance soon enough.”

Sure enough a shriek sounded and in moments the music stopped abruptly when the host’s own security entered, instructing all guests to return to their suites immediately. 

“Thanks for the dance, off you go.” You told Lucci, slipping your hand from his hold only to be roughly pulled back into his grasp. “Really? I’m suddenly a more important catch than what you were sent here to do because I worked out what you are?” You asked, surprising Lucci with your exasperation over the whole thing. Still you let him lead you with the crowd of panicked guests towards the suites. “If you’re as good as I think you are, I’m certain I’ll see you again. Quickly now, he’s getting away.” 

Lucci looked to see his target being ushered suddenly in a different direction than he was meant to be by his guards who looked familiar to him. How was that possible? He’d done his reconnaissance to the letter. Where were they going? He glared at you one final time before he let out a growl and released you, slipping through the crowd like a shadow. With a satisfied hum you turned, against the tide of bodies and effortless slipped passed them and made your own planned escape undetected. 

“You have the ledger?” Lucci’s superior asked the next morning over the den-den mushi. Lucci sat in his chair, relaxed as he looked at the hefty book in his grasp.

“It's in my hand as we speak. In the end there were no complications.” He reported. While the end location had been different, he’d successfully dealt with his target efficiently. After following them, they had gone to the original suite just by a longer and more complicated route. His target was killed in his bed while his so-called protection were none the wiser until he was long gone with the ledger in hand. “It seemed there was another death on the premises.”

“That hadn't been your doing?” Lucci frowned at the question.

“No, it was natural causes I’d heard. Heart attack.”

“That was the original thought. Our sources confirmed the cause was actually poison.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you thought to ask my involvement?”

“Because the victim was the target’s wife.” The revelation of this piece of information made Lucci freeze.

Quickly he finished the call and when he hung up he continued to think. The wife? Why would she-? Lucci looked down at the ledger in his hand and flicked through the pages, finally stopping when he noticed the tiniest remnant of paper in the seams. The only tiny trace that another page had once been there. Leaning forward he caught a scent. Yours. So that’s what you’d been up to. As infuriated as he was, he couldn’t deny your skill and now that he had your scent he would make it his ambition to track you down. He owed you another dance. 

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[race-week]

All just rumors atp but Esteban potentially being dropped from Alpine would be such a shock! Do you know if he has a history of incidents like the one at Monaco? I haven’t been paying attention to him or Alpine tbh but this sounds like such a harsh consequence?

Personally I don’t think it’s too big of a surprise.

There have been a few occasions over the years where he has raced his teammates quite hard, it’s not his first clash with a teammate, nor is it his first clash with a teammate at Alpine.

Let me just get this out of the way first, I have nothing against Ocon, this is just an observation and potential reasons as to why Alpine may go one way or another with a decision

When he was teammates with Perez in the Force India, there were several clashes, some where Perez was more at fault, some where Ocon was more at fault.

I highly doubt that Alpine/Famin are taking this stance based on one race, I think it must be somewhat reflective of the state of what the internals of the team are like.

If I were to make a guess or an assumption I would go with the fact that Alpine aren’t happy about the fact that Ocon keeps talking about his Mercedes ties (I’ve also heard that he apparently turned down an Alpine contract extension) so it could be that they are punishing him in a way because of that.

Or they are just trying to set the record straight of what is expected from their drivers “you stay in line, you do what we want or there are consequences”

[peachsayshi]

thinking about how geto talks to his baby daughter 🥺🥺

[hella1975]

the closest ill ever get to being a pick me girl is the joy that fills me when the chefs at work so clearly favouritise me. like im there nicely cleaned up in my smart-casual uniform just a 20 year old waitress smiling my customer service smile and behind me spawns Scary Dog Privilege 10x in the form of several burly middle-aged chefs at least three of which have criminal records and would all stick a bread knife in someone for bothering me

[brucewaynehater101]

Hey just wanna ask about something:

Do you ever think that Tim would want to sacrifice himself bcs he thinks that the only way out of his problems is to do something for someone even though they never asked for it but he just wants to keep them safe from any disasters that befall on them.

Yet, his path is not to change but to save someone.

Unlike his brothers Tim probably still has that thought of losing someone he loves to die again. So he will be prepared for anything, like he prepared an armor/suit for every apocalyptic stuff happened, a base that have daily stuff so one of them can be safe and comfortable in that place whenever they need alone time or just wants to hang out, he would also prepare the strongest weapon he could make or find so that he could give it to them if he does die or he wants them to survive as long as they could and I think Tim will go ballistic if his love ones get injured in front of him but not that brutal bcs he can do anything especially backstabbing.

Tim also prepares some tasty information of every person even the people outside of Gotham so that he can identify and set a message to his teammates of the person whereabouts or current state.

But when someone does save him from something or someone he just says "thanks" yet his face looks disappointed bcs he thinks that he's not strong enough to save himself from his problems (which is kinda true Tim you need to go to therapy fr) and every time he got saved by someone he thinks that person probably felt pitiful for him but he doesn't tell them that probably thinking he would be a burden for voicing his opinions or thoughts.

Anyway, I just want your idea of self-sacrifice Tim Drake bcs I think it will be worthy of angst material.

Hello!!! Just to summarize, you stated that you see Tim as the type to go to great lengths for the safety of his loved ones while not accepting or feeling shame if that was reciprocal.

There are several traits for Tim that one can play around with: his selfless need to help, his self-sacrifical tendencies, his desire for independence, and his continued forgiveness.

People will hurt him, and he'll still go out of the way to ensure their safety. It's a trait about him to admire at the same time it makes me frustrated as hell.

Then, there is the chance that he feels that he isn't enough or isn't doing enough. He does compare himself to others and how they would handle the situation better than him. He uses this messed up logic to state that he isn't trying hard enough or doing well. Great angst to be had.

I find fics or AUs that highlight Tim's subtle/silent support as great ones. For some reason or another, Tim no longer provides the care and diligence he did behind the scenes. The batfam then realize just how much he was taking on.

There's a ton of fics that have the AU of Tim sacrificing his life for the Bats. Here's some other forms of sacrifice I think would really drive in that angst:

his childhood (if you go the "Bruce only treated him as a soldier/coworker" route)

memories (of the Bats or of his parents loving him)

his independence/freedom

his brain (his ability to think/put together clues)

his ability to feel love or happy

his last name (either Drake or Wayne)

his ability to fight

I personally like the AUs where he goes back in time and sacrifices his ability to be with the Waynes as a family (he saves all of them [or tries] and they don't even know him).

I'm down to talk about any of these more!!!

[apollo-cackling]

🔥 on malazan, if you don't mind!

[I'm ~1/3 done reading HoC for context]

oh hmm what's an actual unpopular malazan opinion? pretty sure "I would defend Felisin with my goddamn life" is at least a contested opinion on the subreddit, but most folks agree on that here uhhh. here's a few scattershot opinions, hope at least one of them are unpopular:

I do rather like the opening to House of Chains? I saw several people say they didn't like it/that Karsa wasn't interesting enough to carry it, and I don't know if that's the general opinion or an outlier that I stumbled upon but yk. disagree it was fun watching him fuck around and find out + the Silanda reveal (and the other worldbuilding stuff) was really goddamn cool. I wouldn't say it's in my list of favourite malazan parts but it's nowhere near the bottom

Siege of Capustan was a really compelling sequence, but between it and Toc's PoV, somewhere along the line the Pannions(' brutality) broke my suspension of disbelief a little? I've never really liked gorey evil empires though lol tbf

the malazan marine POVs are generally pretty solidly mid-tier for me? they're still good, just outclassed by the other POVs (so say Felisin in DG and Itkovian/the Envy entourage in MoI)

I get that this is more a "we didn't really have the opportunity to see it" thing than anything else bc clearly it does happen (Felisin on the transport ship to the otataral mines) but I wish it wasn't mostly non-Malazans perpetrating (onscreen) sexual violence not sure on the implications on that one. ...although I have seen something to the implication that these books are in part in-universe propaganda? nvm going to reserve judgment on this one

[thedeadthree]

the high stakes tennis match between asoiaf, dragon age, and tes in the ol leg brain at the moment ✨😵‍💫