#that i may have actually been doing a hell of a lot of heavy lifting.
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*slowly opens your closet door and hands you the rest of the chips I was eating in there*
What if. Reader kissed King's scars or traced over them n asked if shed tell them how she got em? I think scars are neat and I dunno about you but personally I'd love to know how she got em. Hope your day is well!
Not a scratch on her.
You distinctly remember the claws of your attacker digging into the exposed meat of the knight's bicep her armor failed to shield yet here there is no mark to prove it. The two of you sat in King's dressing room following the incident, and all the time it took you begging to pull her off them. You thought you'd be fine on your own for a little while without her - clearly word hasn't gotten around the casino that you belong to her just yet. After she checked you over and made sure you weren't hurt it was only fair of you to do the same, but once you scrubbed all that blood off her there really wasn't much else for you to take care of.
"Hm......"
King lifts her head from the pile of pillows you both lay on, dismayed by absence of your hands on her. "Everything okay over there? Seems like you got something on your mind."
"Just thinking.... You've got so many scars, but that other demon didn't even put a scratch on you ... Kinda curious why.."
"Oh, that? That was nothing.-" King sits up, pounding a fist against her chest as she rises. "Takes a lot more than a coward like that to put a dent on this body. Hell, my skin's thicker than the steel I throw on. The stories behind every single one of 'em could the tale of centuries."
"Really?.... Then do you think you could tell me how you got your scars? I actually think they're pretty neat, but I didn't know the right time to ask you about them."
The mountain of pillows crumbles under the heavy swish of King's tail. "Yea....course... we'd be here all week if I told you how I got them all, but I can start off with some of my favorites for now."
King removes her chestplate - gesturing for you to climb in her lap as she regroups the pillows beneath her. She leans back down as she takes your smaller hands in hers, placing them on her abdomen. It was almost impossible to tell where her skin began and the old wounds ended. She guides your fingers to a crescent shaped hole just below her left pec - right over her ribs.
"Feel that? Got that one during the first tournament I feared I might lose. Underestimated the little bastard due to their size - barely came up to my knee in this form, the fucker. Unfortunately for them, they got a little too confident and all it took for me to wipe the floor with that small fry was catching them once.
"Amazing...." Your trace your fingers over the scar, dipping your head until in range to place a soft kiss on her hardened skin. King flinches - tail threatening to foundation of the pillows again as it shoots up with her.
"Wha- Huh?!- The fuck was that?"
"Sorry... Was that not okay? I guess I should've asked before I did that."
King's used to people asking about her scars. She may have been asked to be been kissed once or twice, but that was often by drunken fans - not the little treasure she picked out for herself. You are aware she could snap you in half at any second? You most definitely did, and that she'd never put you in serious danger. Still, you being so careless around a beast like her has got feeling a rush that's incomparable to the surge she feels in battle.
"Nah...." King shifts her tail benath her legs to hide the excitement it gave away. "A warning might've been nice - but your boldness makes it kinda hot. I knew I picked the perfect person to call mine.... Let's move on."
King nudges your fingers further north over her heart to anotger oddly shaped scar over her heart. With three points it almost look like a crudely embroidered crown. "This one. Welcoming gift from the boss themselves. Should'a known not to underestimate that other demon after dealing with them, but they're such an airhead it's easy to forget they can take care of themselves just fine."
Again - you kiss the blemish, the dragon's heart hammering loudly in her chest you can feel its rumble from your lips. There's other's she'd like to show you, but it you're so willing to kiss all her marks....
"Hey, got another one I think you might like."
King lifts her helmet over her jaw - shadows pealing away to unveil the wide, branching scar starting from her lower lip to benath her chin. She grins to show off the extent of the injury, the skin of her lips splitting to reveal more of her gums the further her smile creeps up the side of her face.
"This one? First and only time an angel tried to mess with our staff. Something about some demon winning the soul of someone they were watching over in a gang of cards. Made a huge fuss, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Scar I'm most proudest of."
You ghost your fingers along her jaw, smiling as she slides her large hand down your back. "Uh-huh.... Something tells me there's another reason you wanted to show me this one in particular..."
"Don't get too full of yourself... Heh, who am I kidding." Tossing her mask aside, King pulls you for a kiss - a loud, yet oddly polite banging on the door interrupting the happy moment.
"Ms.King? We are all very glad you have found someone you are willing to protect at any cause, but some guests have raised concerns about your displays of victory. Please stop stringing your prey up over the pool. This is the third time we've had to close it this month."
#King my oc#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere insert#yandere headcanons#yandere oc#yandere blurb#female yandere#yandere fluff
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go away (or don't)
pairing: wally darling/reader
rating: g
author's note: gender neutral reader to the best of my ability! i'm very new to welcome home so please be kind @:)
ao3 (it looks so much better there! go to hell, tumblr!)
Your relationship with Wally, new as it may be, is not without its challenges.
The transition from friends to something more had been a bit of a sticky subject at first, tacky to the touch. But a dozen long conversations and drawn-out explanations had really cleared a lot of things up, and by the end of your first official month as Home's newest couple, things had seemed to be tilting towards hopeful.
Now, as you stand in the middle of Wally's living room, arms folded over your chest, you're not positive that you didn't rush into things.
You aren't mad at him. He is standing just a few feet away, face carefully blank, arms limp by his sides. He is nearly impossible to be mad at. But for all your talk of boundaries, you'd forgotten to discuss something very important with him; your dedication to your friendship with Julie.
"She spends the night with you," Wally says, voice even. "A lot. I don't even get to spend the night with you."
He'd been upset to find out that your twice-weekly sleepovers with Julie hadn't stopped even after your relationship with him kicked into gear. You hadn't brought it up during any of your discussions because you didn't think it mattered. You weren't– you aren't– willing to change anything about your relationship with Julie. You won't sacrifice it. It's too important to you.
"Julie is my friend," you tell him. It's important to keep a level head. Getting upset will only make the situation worse. "I'm not going to stop spending time with her just because you and I are together."
"She lies in your bed," he says. "With you. Beside you."
Bickering with him is…not what you expected it would be. Despite him being more in touch with his emotions than ever, it still doesn't transfer well into his voice. He speaks slowly, the cadence near-robotic, and it's difficult for you to decipher how intense the emotions that he's feeling actually are right now. He doesn't look mad. He isn't smiling, and his eyes are slightly narrowed, but besides that, he is a blank slate. It's as infuriating as it is confusing.
"Wally," you sigh, uncrossing your arms. "She's just a friend, okay? I'm allowed to have friends."
He tilts his chin up defiantly, and there it is–something to latch on to.
"I don't think it's appropriate," he says. "Frank and Eddie don't sleep in other neighbors' beds."
"You do understand that we can't model our entire relationship around Frank and Eddie's, right?" You ask, quirking a brow.
"You're not listening," he huffs. His hands twitch at his sides, fingertips curling into his palms. "You're being unkind."
"No," your jaw flexes subconsciously. "You're being unreasonable."
He lifts his eyes to the ceiling. "Home? Do you think I'm being unreasonable?"
There's a subtle creak, and a consecutive bang, bang.
"Well, there you have it," his mouth curls up into a smile, but it is smug and a little bit cruel.
"Wha–You can't ask Home!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up. "That isn't fair! This is between you and I."
He mimics your earlier stance by crossing his arms over his chest. It's a little off; a little clunky, but he gets the gist of it. He looks closed off, and hurt, and maybe angry. You can't read his eyes well enough. It's a learning process, and he is the kind of book that people spend hundreds of years decoding.
"I think you've overstayed your welcome," He nods towards the front door, and it swings open. "Goodbye, neighbor."
You don't move. He's kicking you out? Your legs feel like they've been cased in cement, and your tongue is heavy in your mouth. No. The argument cannot end like this. There has to be a resolution, or the two of you will never come back from this. Your relationship is too new to handle something so detrimental.
"Wally," you try. His name sounds soft and sweet in your voice because, for all the bickering and the mean words, you cannot be mad at him. You just can't.
"Please leave," he says. He shifts on his feet. "I think I'm…mad. And I really, really don't want to be mad at you, but I don't know how not to be. So, you should go."
You appreciate the fact that he is attempting to explain his feelings. That he's digging deep, and being honest with you. You know that it hasn't been easy for him, learning about conceptualizing emotions, and letting himself take the time to decode them. He has struggled. You've helped him through almost-panic attacks too many times to count. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, and you know that, even for you, relationships aren't simple. Standing up to you, it must be difficult.
"Relationships are hard, sometimes," you say, taking a step towards him. "It's normal to be angry with your partner when you both disagree on something very important. And…I know that trying to talk about it can be frustrating."
He relaxes just slightly at your words; you see it in the way his shoulders droop. He still has his arms crossed over his chest, but he is looking at you now, and his eyes go round at the edges. They lose their sharpness.
"Frank and Eddie disagree on things, too," you continue. "Being partners with someone means compromising."
"Compromising," Wally repeats. "But you won't–you're not compromising with me."
"Let's sit down and talk about it some more," you suggest, offering him a warm smile. "We should never intentionally hurt each other, alright? If my sleepovers with Julie have hurt your feelings, I want to make that right."
You take a seat on his sofa, patting the spot next to you. He hesitates for a moment, and then sits down, too. His ankles cross, and he folds his hands in his lap.
"You don't like it when I have sleepovers with Julie because she lies in my bed with me?" You ask. You're careful with your words, with your tone. You don't want to upset him further, or have him close himself off.
He nods. "I've read Julie's romance books, and when two people love each other, they always share a bed."
Ah, yes. Since the realization of his feelings for you, Wally has been in love with the idea of love. He reads Julie's silly, cliché stories, and asks Frank and Eddie questions that are perhaps a bit too personal. He is smart and curious, and he's always wanting to learn. This–all things romance– has just been his newest fixation. You're not sure that Julie's books or Frank and Eddie's ever-changing dynamic are the best references for him, though. He is not like the love interest in a romance novel. He shouldn't try to compare himself to anyone else.
"Sharing a bed isn't always romantic," you explain. "There are a lot of different kinds of love. But," you reach out to place a hand on his knee, soothing, and he lets you. Does not move away, so you take that as a good sign. "If me sharing a bed with someone else makes you uncomfortable, I'm willing to compromise. How about when Julie comes over, she lies in my bed, and I sleep on the couch?"
He takes a moment to think about this. You see the cogs turning in his head, the way his mouth straightens out, and then pulls down at the corners.
"Okay," he says. "I think that would be…okay. I would feel happier with that."
"And," you tell him, "you can't keep basing your idea of love around what you read in books, okay? All relationships are different. You have to learn to navigate it through experience."
"I just," he looks down, eyes closing for a second. "I have questions, sometimes. I don't know where to find answers."
Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, and his skin goes a little pink beneath your touch.
"Next time you have a question, just ask me about it, alright?" You say. Your thumb smooths along his skin, and you brush a bit of blue hair behind his ear. "We'll work on it together."
"I like how that sounds," he smiles, eyes twinkling beneath high noon's light beaming in through the windows. "Together."
Pleased now, he scoots closer to you on the couch. His mouth curves up, and he gets this mischievous look on his face that you've come to associate with his silly little antics. He dives forward and kisses the round apple of your cheek, darting away with a sweet, "muah!"
"So you're not mad at me anymore, then?" You ask, tips of your ears warm.
He shakes his head. "Not mad. Sorry I tried to make you leave earlier."
You take his face between your hands, and squish his cheeks until his mouth puckers up. He looks goofy and open and so, so happy. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press forward and kiss him on the mouth, once, then twice. The pink on his face goes deeper, and his ears turn red, too.
"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings seriously at first," you say. "I accept your apology. Do you accept mine?"
"I don't know," he shrugs. "Maybe a few more kisses will sway me."
You laugh, falling against his chest, and he wraps both arms around your shoulders. He is soft, and smells like cedar and sunlight. You breathe him in, and tilt your head back to leave a little kiss to his jawline.
"You drive a hard bargain, Darling. I suppose I've got no choice but to bend to your will."
You tackle him onto the couch until he's lying on his back, head propped up on the arm rest. You pin his wrists by his sides and leave chaste kisses all over his face, each one signed with a tiny smack, and a "muah!" He laughs, and it is still drawn out and slow and stale, but it is so very him, and that's all you have ever wanted.
He buries his devastatingly cute, "ha, ha, ha's" into your shoulder, and you kiss him and kiss him until the both of you are breathless, and the sun begins to set.
#is this cute? i don't know. i just love wally.#welcome home#wally darling#wally darling x reader#wally darling x you#wally darling x y/n#welcome home arg#wally darling fanfic
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"there's no evidence that tommy and carol bullied anyone" so publicly humiliating nancy by spray painting nancy the slut wheeler on the hawk sign was just what. because steve implied that was their idea and they did it. you don't just go from never bullying anyone to doing some real diabolical shit like that so. sure steve never bullied anyone but you're reaching trying to extend that to tommy especially. don't forget how easily he got chummy with the racist the following season and joined in gleefully bullying steve
I'm not excusing the graffiti, but I don't think spray painting the slut graffiti as revenge because they (wrongly) thought Nancy cheated on Steve makes it bullying lmao. Bullying is repeated and targeted. One instance is not bullying. I also think "diabolical" is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. Like what they did was cruel, but diabolical? Graffiti and spreading rumors is like the most typical "get revenge on your/your friend's shitty ex" thing you could do, they just did it in public instead of like the school bathroom. Public shaming for cheating is SUCH a common trope, like do you know how often I see that "WELCOME HOME CHEATER" meme? I'm not saying that makes it right, because it doesn't! But it also doesn't make them evil?
Like I never said that Tommy and Carol are nice lol. They're asshole teenagers! That's canon! Steve calls them out on that and breaks ties with them because of it! But being a dick teenager does not make you a bully, all teenagers are dicks lol.
I also think interpreting Tommy's scenes with Billy as that is in bad faith personally. Homeboy is in like two scenes with Billy - one where Tommy is clearly trying to make Steve jealous, and the other where he is making fun of Steve for his gf once again supposedly cheating on him. The gf that Steve dumped his friends for, after she supposedly cheated on him the first time.
And yeah Billy is racist but y'all are acting like? Everyone in the show should automatically know that? How? The racist shit Billy says on screen is mainly to Max, and later in the show where he actually attacks Lucas. There's a good chance that Steve didn't even realize that Billy's attack on the kids was racially motivated until after the fact.
Considering that Billy literally doesn't interact with anyone but his coworkers and Karen in s3, and the fact that Tommy does not actually seem to like violence that much or at least seems to have a limit! Considering how he reacted to the fight in s1 (going from "hell yeah a fight to oh fuck shit is serious"), I don't think Tommy stayed friends with Billy after season 2 lmao. Like idk I did not get the impression that Billy had any friends in s3.
You're accusing me of reaching but saying stuff like "no one goes from never bullying anyone to something that diabolical" isn't? My whole point has always been that he may be a dick, but there's nothing to show him being anything other than a stereotypical class clown type douchebag lol. The Party's fucking bullies threatened them at knife point. Billy bashes a plate over Steve's head and tries to run the kids off the fucking road with his car. The Angela storyline was so extreme that it was unrealistic and is almost an universally hated part of the season. Tommy makes some mean comments, gives Barb a wet willy, and then rubs it in his ex best friend's face that someone has taken his place and that his gf is cheating on him. Like, the graffiti was bad and Nancy should've probably slapped all three of them not just Steve, but it was a petty and misguided revenge scheme, not bullying.
I think if Tommy was intended to be an actual bully the way fandom pretends he is, we would've seen more of it on screen. If Tommy and Carol were so cruel to the whole school, Robin and Eddie would've said something about it? But they don't! The Duffers are SO blatant about how they go about things, I think if they were truly meant to be bullies, they would've been way more obvious about it lmao.
Like, think what you want! If you wanna headcanon them as being an actual bullies, that's your prerogative. But it's not actually canon.
#asks#anon#anonymous#fandom wank#like yeah we can all make assumptions and come to our own and differing conclusions based on canon#but you also have to be realistic about what actually is in canon lol
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who is stronger between roy and spewart?
Roy: *Flexing his muscles* "... Not that I underestimate Spewart's strength, of course!! I'm sure he is a very strong bunny."
Spewart: *Shrugs* "I don't do a lot of heavy lifting, so I'm actually not sure how strong I am..."
Roy: "Oh? Well, do you think you can pick me up?"
Spewart: "Probably not... But I'll try!!"
Roy: "WHAT THE FUCK-"
Spewart: "I am just as shocked as you are, honestly."
Roy: "PUT ME DOWN!!!"
Spewart: "Oh-" *Gently puts Roy down* "Sorry!!" :<
Roy: "Where the hell did THAT come from??"
Spewart: "... Oh yeah, I take testosterone pills every day. That may explain it..." *Attempts to flex muscles*
Roy: "........." *Gets an idea*
Spewart: "I... I thought you said you don't go to the gym...?"
Roy: "Well, I used to, but I stopped when I started... Smoking... A few years ago... Um... BUT I've been meaning to go back!! And I think it'd be really fun if we went together one time! I could use a gym partner!! Whaddaya say?"
Spewart: "...... Maybe!... I don't really know if that's my thing..."
Roy: "We can try it once, and if you don't like it, we never have to do it again."
Spewart: "... Okay!!"
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Getting started in the industry
TW heavy topics such as Sexual abuse
Real life story
Not erotic but adult themes
Trembling, stomach in knots, only a bra and panties away from being from being completely exposed.. and even that small security blanket was going to be ripped away momentarily. "Breathe" I instructed myself. I braced for the impact of potentially the worst mistake of my life. And clicked, "Go live."
How did I get here?
It feels like a lifetime ago, only taking my first steps of adulthood, already weighed down with the pressure of coming up with a plan. I didn't have money for college, doubted every skill I had, and was recently taken off the medications that may have been the push I needed to be a whole lot more productive job hunting. I had been a legal adult for nearly a year, I was "running out of time." A sentiment I can't even wrap my head around today.
Hurry hurry hurry.
While panicked about my entire future prospects, I did manage to find time to embrace the new freedom and independence that suddenly felt abundant. My upbringing was certainly not strict but days and nights of making my own choices without so much as asking permission was a fucking rush. Party after party. Run from the cops. Repeat.
But it wasn't until the relationship that consumed my life the 4 years prior came to an end that I truly felt the world open up in front of me. Despite adoration from our peers who only saw the best of us and despite my limited experience convincing me that this must just be how some men are.. the truth is I was lying with a monster. It took time to see it for what it was sexual and emotional abuse. But even then, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders leaving. No longer would I be under his control, no longer would my body be close enough for him to touch after repeated pushing him away, no longer would I be the person he came to with his sick confessions of disturbing crimes he'd committed or sought to commit like a burden he gladly gifted me and he'd never have the opportunity to ignore my pleas or break the promise of "I'll never do that to you again."
With the heaviest of shackles broken, everything I CHOSE to do became liberating and quickly that became exploring sexuality on my terms. I started dating Walter, who, for all his flaws, wasn't a monster and was actually quite supportive of exploration and seemed like he was on a journey of his own. More on him later.. but when I came to him with the crazy idea to start Webcam modeling, he not only encouraged me, but he offered up his house as a work space.
I wrestled with the idea for awhile, likely made a pros and cons list if I know myself
Pro: Exciting
Con: Scary
In no time, my account was set up, and I was hyperventilating at my laptop. The first account I used was sketchy, one of those where you had a "manager" who would call you and demand you stream more (which for the record I thought was completely normal). This guy was a character, vulgar, crass, and unprofessional, even for such a profession at the time. He'd come into my streams and beg for free shows or call me and complain about other streamers. It was only a minor bump in the road, and it took no time to get comfortable performing, especially when I made the switch to a different platform. I think I even liked it.. for a job. My days were never short of interesting. My stories were plentiful, and i always felt connected to a world outside of my day to day life. Even the idea of being an adult performer gave me a sense of pride that I think most people in those days couldn't understand.. hell, if modern-day reception to OF girls is any indication, I'd say many still don't. Countless times, I found myself defending my choices in this era, something that may sound like a waste of time but went positively more than you'd expect. The truth is, regardless of your own preferences, most people can't argue with someone doing what they want to do because we all more or less fear losing the freedom to do so ourselves.
Now, the industry has been a part of my life off and on for over a decade, and I can honestly say I get that it's hard to get. There have been moments where I reflect on how much time I've spent solely catering to the male gaze or questioning the line between liberation and objectifican. It's not a simple equation, but I think I learned what the answer is for me.
Walking through life, especially as a female, means guaranteed objectification, leering men and societal pressure to look fuckable. Before ever signing a contract, making a cent or making a CHOICE, someone I was meant to trust took something from me.. so believe me when I say that when people use the menu I've provided for a mutually beneficial service, that difference is clear. Not to mention the power of the freedom to decline and, of course, the block button.
This expectation exists that trauma should make you cower from sexuality moving forward, and sometimes that's what we have to do, but in the end, I gave myself the gift of reclaiming someone that was always mine. I am every bit as sex positive and open as what some might interpret as a marketing scheme, I have built myself a life that allows me me to explore that as one big exhibition.
Someone somewhere is rejoicing in the stroking of their confirmation bias because I followed the often assumed trajectory of Trauma -> Sex work. I used to dispute the comparison because I knew many examples that weren't that case as I met other creators, but rather, the more important point is who does the fault than lie on? To say "this" is a product of "that" is to blame "that" and not "this." You've agreed the problem is abusers and I think that's a good place to start the conversation at least.
I don't regret stepping foot into this industry. Retroactively, I would have told my younger self to wait, learn, and heal more first, but I think I would have always ended up here. Despite everything that more directly brought me here, I'm at my core an entertainer, and if their is a stage, I was going to find it.. who knew it would be a mattress?
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MCU Rewatch - Iron Man 2
So, turns out I did know what Iron Man 2 is about and just thought that it was Iron Man 3. What the hell is Iron Man 3 then? Something, something, annoying little kid, something, something, Iron Man? Idk, but at the very least this is the last one that makes me go, “what the hell was this about again?”
Granted, Iron Man 2 was a lesson in cinematic dichotomy and I had a hard time feeling engaged with the Ivan Vanko plotline. It seemed super shallow and just generally less interesting than what Stark was dealing with.
So, the main plot of this movie is actually tri-fold. Firstly, we have Tony Stark dealing with palladium poisoning. He’s dying because of the device that’s keeping him alive and it’s the first time he’s dealing with failure somehow, and there’s just a lot of internal strife going on.
Alongside this is the much more public battle of Iron Man’s identity. The U.S. government wants the Iron Man suit to be a symbol of the US military, to represent power and glory over all through violence, but that’s not who or what Iron Man is. Up against Stark is a bloated (literally) politician and a weapons contractor who may be one of the most annoying characters in the MCU.
And this leads us into the third, kind of shoe-horned-in plot of Anton and Ivan Vanko. When Anton dies at the beginning of the movie, his son Ivan decides that now is the time to take revenge on Stark, as opposed to a few years earlier before he had the Iron Man suit and before Ivan’s dad bit the dust. But okay. And what is he mad about? That Tony Stark’s dad “stole” the arc reactor idea from Anton and then decades later Tony actually made it somewhat useful.
I’m sorry but that is just a stupid plot. So this guy, who’s been trapped in Siberia for decades, finally decides to leave and his motivation is that some guy whose dad used to work with his dad used old technology to create new technology? And he’s going to combat him with…whips? Powered by technology that, not only was totally available to this villain since well before Tony “stole” it, but is also literally impossible for some of the world’s best scientists in top facilities to create?
(Do you remember this, Marvel? It was two movies earlier.)
Meanwhile, the other two plots are doing great work with the whole dueling egos and themes of identity crises between private and public personas. Plus there’s a whole overarching moral lesson of friendship is power!
Once again, chef’s kiss; perfect. It’s clear that Favreau loves Iron Man; it’s where he started and it’s where he thrives. Despite having to shove in a fairly generic action plot, he manages to tie together the rest of the movie to create seriously humanizing moments that endear us to Iron Man.
There’s a lot to like about this movie, but it’s mostly in the quiet moments, the atmosphere, the snappy comebacks Stark tosses out like nothing. The cuts to the Vanko story were often jarring and felt like commercial breaks cutting into what I really wanted to watch.
And to be completely honest, what I wanted to watch was a lot of world and character building. We’re still in the dawn of the MCU here, and Iron Man 2 and 3 do a lot of heavy lifting as far as establishing new characters and letting viewers see how the rest of the world responds to superheroes.
I was more excited to see Black Widow than I thought I would be. I don’t dislike her or anything, but when she came on screen it was electric, like this is it, the world is expanding. She doesn’t belong here; she’s not part of the Iron Man team. Yet here she is, meddling.
Along with Romanov, we also get Coulson on the scene again and of course, Nick Fury. The little nods to Thor throughout the film were shockingly enjoyable. I didn’t know shit about Thor when this came out, so going back knowing everything that will happen…it’s a whole new kind of tension. This is gonna be a theme for a while, I think. The MCU ball doesn’t really start rolling until after Captain America shows up.
While SHIELD is basically only in the movie to give Iron Man some much needed pep talks, the rest of the cast does a great job supporting Tony Stark. He doesn’t make it easy, but by the end he’s friends with Rhodey again (after getting into a mech fight and having Rhodey steal one of the suits), he saved the public from US military contractors, he gets together with Pepper finally, and he even gets a message from his father validating his love for him! Come on! Everyone is in Iron Man’s corner!
Except, obviously, the main bad dude Vanko (and also that idiot Hammer). This guy kept saying “you lose” like he didn’t waste his life in Siberia being evil, and then just…explodes. Okay; girl, bye.
Can we talk about how cool this movie is for a second? As time goes on, the movies begin to rush the action a bit, especially as the battlefields become more complex, but in Iron Man 2 the actions make sense.
For example, Tony Stark’s germ thing. There are many possible reasons why he might have an anti-germ thing, primarily the fact that he’s dying throughout most of the movie, but what’s awesome is how he asks Pepper to put on a mask when she’s coughing, how he refuses to take things handed to him, how he shirks away from people trying to touch him. Those little continuity details make a big difference.
I especially loved when Black Widow and Happy are fighting at Hammer Industries and you can literally see Happy fighting in the background while Black Widow has a whole long fight scene.
(And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it’s a little ridiculous that she got changed and moussed her hair in the car. I don’t care; I overlooked Vanko and I’ll overlook the little Black Widow gaffes too.)
Then, there are so many awesome shots done for no reason other than Iron Man is cool as fuck.
Whereas Iron Man established Tony Stark’s character, Iron Man 2 established his new personality, the one that can just barely handle failure and needing help and overall considering the impact of his actions beyond his immediate circle.
Most of the MCU characters have this type of personality evolution, and it’s one of my favorite elements of the franchise. Stark will undergo a few personality shifts throughout the series, as you’d expect since he was the first one in. I’m very excited!
Speaking of personality shifts, I’m so excited for Thor! I have just a bit of hatred for the original Thor characterization, but the other characters are great, the plot is decent, and it’s just really amusing to see this fancy, stuck-up Thor, knowing what’s to come for the character.
Iron Man 2 gets a 6/10 for me overall. Definitely one of the weakest MCU movie, but it had plenty of redeeming qualities.
#iron man 2#marvel#mcu#mcu rewatch#thor#pepper potts#justin hammer#black widow#nick fury#captain america#ivan vanko#howard stark#stark industries#hammer industries
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hey sex witch! long time listener, first time caller :) so i’ve never had PIV sex, and i’m reasonably certain that my hymen mostly never “tore” naturally (for lack of a better phrase) (ie: i’ve never really been Active and i’ve never used tampons.) i’m really, really into the idea of exploring vaginal penetration, but there’s a big mental block when i experiment with anything bigger than my first finger because it starts to feel sore like it’s being stretched which is really unsexy (so i stop and do other stuff instead.) is this something i should approach a doctor about, or are there at-home ways to deal with hymen tissue without traumatizing myself in the process? thanks in advance, i appreciate your work bunches!
hi first time caller!
if we really are dealing with a case of an imperforate hymen here - a hymen that didn't wear away and widen the vaginal opening naturally, uncommon but possible! - then that could be something worth discussing with your doctor. if you have the resources to do so, an imperforate hymen can be perforated very easily by a simple surgical procedure. even if that's not in the cards for you, it wouldn't be bad information to have.
now, having said that, there's no reason to assume that any lingering hymen tissue won't be wearing away naturally now that you've started embarking on an exploration of vaginal penetration.
if I can do one of my painful metaphors for you - you're sort of in a position where you want to go run a marathon, but you're not sure you ever even learned how to properly stretch. what you want and what's actually physically feasible for you right now might be two very different things - but that doesn't mean they can't come into alignment! it just means there may be a need for some practice on your part to get to the place you want.
with that in mind, I'm going to recommend gently - gently!!!! - finding the sweet spot in that soreness, and starting to explore pressing on that boundary when you're having sex. (and yes, doing things alone counts as having sex.)
obviously I am hugely HUGELY against the idea that people with vulvas and hymens are supposed to experience searing awful pain and bloodshed the first time they have penetrative sex - we do not condone! a big part of the reason that so often happens is that many folks with vulvas go into their first penetrative sexual experience unprepared, unpracticed, under-lubricated, and nervous as hell - essentially, trying to run that metaphorical marathon without ever having run a day in their life or even bringing a bottle of gatorade along, but forcing themselves to tough it out anyway because they've been told it's supposed to suck.
however, it's not unheard of or even necessarily bad to encounter a little soreness along the way - the vaginal muscles are muscles like any other, and that includes some strange sensations when you start using them in ways that they aren't accustomed to. trying penetration with more than one finger makes you feel sore for the same reason my arms feel like wet noodles every time I spend a day helping a friend move furniture. there's a way I could make that stop - regularly using my arm muscles - but I'm not going to do that because lifting frankly sucks and I'm fine with being a weakling. in your case, where increasing your comfort with penetration is a goal, putting in that practice is much more worthwhile.
gonna keep comparing this to my flimsy little arms, actually, because it's useful now that we need to circle back to finding safe limits. as I mentioned, this will likely require pressing past some comfort zones that feel intuitive and perhaps cause some odd sensations. when I move a lot of heavy shit, my arms pretty inevitably start feeling pretty limp and useless. it's uncomfortable, and the feeling lingers, but that's something I can push through because I know that nothing is actually wrong. however, if I were to suddenly develop a tearing pain in one of my arms then yeah - it's time to sit down, slap some ice on that baby, and take a break from moving shit for a while, because I've clearly reached my limit for the day and continuing could cause serious damage.
do you see where I'm going with this?
listen, you don't have to enjoy the discomfort. pain isn't everyone's cup of tea, and I wouldn't want it to be - nothing is for everyone. I strongly recommend doing everything in your power to ease the process! trying different positions can help, as will an abundance of lube, and you may want to look into acquiring a series of vaginal dilators to help steadily increase the size of items inserted into your vagina. lavish attention on other parts of your body to help you relax physically and emotionally - that's SO important for comfy penetration! do whatever you need to do to make it a cool and fun time.
just know that in the process, there are likely to be some growing pains that are difficult to avoid. give yourself time and patience and see what you can achieve with yourself :)
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some genuine art tips that aren’t just “don’t make characters ugly”
been seeing a lot of.. very bad art advice over on twitter, ranging from the useless to the downright offensive, so i’d thought i’d give some tips that can usually be applied to a wide range of body types.
Your wrists roughly line up with the bottom of your crotch - mark out a line parallel to your characters crotch for an easy arm length guide. This, of course, can be exaggerated if you want! But it’s a good rule of thumb if you struggle with arm length.
Don’t forget to draw heels! Not as in a shoe, but as in your actual anatomical heel. A LOT of beginner artists draw a very straight line on the inner leg - if your character looks unbalanced, check your heel! Ankles are less of a point where the legs meet, and more of a curve in and out, as pictured below.
Another leg tip - your toes will always point in the direction that your knee is facing. Your knee controls your lower leg, so if your knee is facing right, so is your foot. Try and see if you can move your foot without shifting your knee even slightly - I bet you can’t. And even if you can - it’s usually an uncomfortable position to hold for an extended period of time. If the pose looks unnatural or unbalanced, make sure the direction of your characters knees and fit are aligned.
Cis men rarely have entirely flat chests - while it may appear that way with a shirt on, pecs exist, even if they’re small! Give your shirtless cis men some tiddy. Pec size will increase with muscle mass and/or fat.
When it comes to cell-shading, I’ve discovered that less is more! Simplified characters don’t need shadows in every clothing fold - your lineart can actually do a lot of the heavy lifting in that regard. Of course this is all dependant on art style, but if you lean more towards cartoons, minimal shading might work a lot better.
When thinking about art, and using reference, try to think in shapes rather than lines. If you think about the lines, you get too fussed about little details and your gestures will be kinda stiff - view every body part as it’s own shape. Shoulders can be either circles or squares depending on your characters build, for example. A lot of people say “draw characters made up of rectangles” - but I personally find that using a wide variety of shapes helps me a lot more than sticking to just one.
Drawing from life is important, but so is studying other artist’s work - especially if stylisation is your goal. Turning complex squishy human bodies into something simple is a hard skill to learn, and it’s important to look at other cartoon/anime artists to see how they do things - especially when it comes to aspects that you’re finding hard to simplify, like certain hairstyles or hands. Hell, trace em if you gotta, just make sure they’re credited.
Do so many sketches. Sketches prove that you are thinking about what you’re drawing. Your first draft can be as messy as possible - think of it as stretching. Drawing is an exercise for both your arm and mind, so make sure to warm up!
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Healing the sick
Pairing: Hector Barbossa x reader
Warnings: None
Requested by: @personlovinganime
The Request:
Hello! It's me. May I please ask for an order with Barbossa caring for a sick and mentally distressed reader? I'm sorry for the negativity, I'm just in a terrible morale right now, I want to burst into tears, and maybe I'll feel better with this order
***
Lately, Barbossa has noticed that you seemed to have a lot on your plate and that you weren’t letting anyone in to help you out, knowing that would have your stress level limited.
It hadn’t been all that long ago since Barbossa found you and recruited you to his team, almost a year ago to be exact. Barbossa found you in a bar working your tail off while not getting treated fairly at the same time and that’s what won him over to take you to a better life, to a brighter future. One of the first things Barbossa had noticed about you other then your lovely sense of humor, was how he ranked you as one of, if not the hard worker you are.
It wasn’t just that either, it was also how much you depended on yourself more then you did on others. When it comes to getting things done, you’re always making sure that you’re getting them done right. Despite Barbossa’s admiration for the kind of person you are, he can’t help but wonder if you had ever taken a break in your life. It was almost daring to bring this subject up in conversation with you, and when he finally does mention it, he does so very carefully as to not upset you for saying the wrong thing without knowing it. Various answers were given to him and sometimes when there really wasn’t an answer to give to that, you would give the same answer as you did in past conversations, completely forgetting it’s been used. The answers made sense at times, until they didn’t anymore.
Barbossa would twist the questions he’d ask as an attempt to hide what he was really asking. But you know, and as you know, you continue to let him believe you had no clue what was being asked of you. For each of the reasons you gave him, the more he was determined to dig deep until he go the answers he desires to know more then anything. Realizing what he was doing, you weren’t happy about it at first, but the next thing you realize is that if he is pushing you like this for answers, he truly does care about you and that meant a lot. The minute you eventually decided to say anything, you felt the stress, distress from the heavy burdens you didn’t know you carried being lifted off your shoulders. Barbossa was known around the ship as the one to show no emotion to anyone for any reason.
But it was different to where it concerns you. In the beginning, you thought the only way you could pull through the distress was through hard work and more dedication you can handle. Unbeknownst to you, it was doing you more bad then good, it was killing you more. There are days you felt defeated, and wanted to give up, but Barbossa won’t let that happen. When things finally seemed to be as they should be, everything was looking up at last but of course, just as things seemed to going good, karma just had to drop by unannounced. Small symptoms had come about and first, they didn’t to be serious as you felt as they didn’t seem to get any worse. You looked at it as you were slowly being healed from sickness, but just a few days later, it all had gone downhill out of the blue and you felt awful as you’ve ever been. This time, however, was not your mental health failing you, but rather, it was something else.
You were actually sick, and it brought you what felt like the worst of it. It was sheer hell and again, your first thought was promising yourself it would come to pass just hours ahead and then you would be healed once again. As days go by, you seemed to be getting worse then any better and it was becoming more of challenging to stand your guard in keeping the commitment you made the commitments before joining Barbossa’s team. This was an illness you thought you could hide and get away with not telling or not making it obvious you were terribly sick. Symptoms got worse before Barbossa caught on that there was something wrong with you, and wasn’t afraid to confront you about. Just like times in the past, you tried to lie your way out of it and his suspicions, concern for your well-being.
However, as you made your way to your post, things got even worse for with each step you take, even through baby steps. Before you know it, you’re feeling slightly dizzy and had begun stumbling towards your task. You almost didn’t make it but when you did, you had a couple more steps to take on before you were interrupted by a voice coming from behind you, a hint of concern and sternness to the tone. Anyone could easily recognize the voice as Barbossa’s and if they didn’t, they were foolish not to know who the voice belonged to. Barbossa begins to scold you after turning to face him.
“You can’t hide being sick from me, (Y/n). Why aren’t you resting?”
Turning slowly, you look at him as you gave your response.
But it was a big lie.
“What are you talking about? Where did you get such an idea? I’m fine, I promise.” You lie, but it was well known he wasn’t convinced.
“I’m healthy as a horse.” You try again.
“You can’t fool me, (Y/n). Now listen, I think the best thing in the world for you right now is to get rested up. This is an order, it’s for your own good, go back to your sleeping quarters and jus take the day off. I can’t afford to lose you to any illness, do you understand?”
You understood where this was coming from, it’s that you’re one to get emotional in a condition like this.
You had every reason to allow the tears threatening to be released, to tear stain your cheek. But you weren’t going to allow for that to happen in front of him, you’d do that once you’re alone. Feeling a small lump in your throat had you realizing that if you were to feel this upset over something as small as this, then you must got it bad. It all really depends on how you’re feeling, and judging by the look on Barbossa’s face told you that it would be wise for you to follow through everything Barbossa would tell you to do. Instead of words, you could only nod in agreement before retreating back to your quarters.
Barbossa doesn’t let you go and scamper off without another saying.
“I’ll come by and check on you soon, (Y/n).”
All you did was yawn as if you just didn’t hear him say anything. It’s no surprise that Barbossa kept his word, as you lay your head on your pillow, you were quick yo fall asleep. It was almost right away.
You woke every hour and that seemed to be when Barbossa drops by, trying to take care of you.
He truly cared about you and wanted to help you recover quickly, you were his top priority.
Always.
***
Requests: OPEN
@savvythepirate
Tags: @princessofthornsandroses
#jack sparrow imagines#jack sparrow imagine#jack sparrow x reader#jack sparrow#hector barbossa imagines#hector barbossa imagine#hector barbossa x reader#hector barbossa#davy jones imagines#davy jones imagine#davey jones x reader#davy jones#pirates of the caribbean imagine davy jones#pirates of the caribbean imagines#pirates of the caribbean imagine#pirates of the caribbean x reader#pirates of the carribean#i take requests#requests wanted#requests are welcome#requests are open#taking requests#requested#request#requests#ask box#ask box is open#send in an ask
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Syn clutched at his lower back and dropped to a knee as Abigail checked on him after they had their hands raised. The amazing dual feat of strength from Syn & Abigail got this entire crowd on their feet, despite the fact that there was two of them doing it, lifting a man the size of Dutch is an impressive feat in and of itself, but it looks like Syn may have pulled something in his back doing it. Either way, Syn waved off Abigail's help, saying he just needed a minute, and pointed to Steve Guy, asking Abigail to grab him the mic.
It was unusual, of the two of them, Abigail was usually the one who did the majority of the speaking on the mic, but tonight it seemed like Syn was the one with something to say. Syn managed to get back to his feet as he gave Abigail a small bow and a kiss on the cheek as she handed him the microphone, Syn looking around as the crowd actually cheered him receiving the mic. Syn brushed his hair back with his free hand as he spoke.
"Y'know... you guys aren't supposed to like me." That just seemed to get an even bigger pop from the crowd, and Syn chuckled a bit as he pointed at Abby. "You're gonna get me in trouble with that one." The crowd laughed, and even Abby had a grin on her face as she licked her lips and winked, suggesting just what kind of trouble that would be. Syn dropped the jovial demeanor for a second to clutch at his back again, and curse. "Fuck, Dutch is heavy..."
Syn shook it off though, and turned his attention back to the task at hand. "Last week... Some things happened in this ring. Things all of you aren't meant to see, a side of this business... You aren't all meant to see. But you've been seeing a lot of it recently, thanks to C-... That, fucking asshole, who once again got himself suspended from this place. Suspended, fired, I honestly don't fucking know at this point... But that's not how I do business, that's not how I solve my problems, as a man, as a fighter. No... I'm not letting this go, and I'm not burying this in the sand, like every other wrestling company has done in the past. This gets solved, and this gets solved right now."
Syn looks to the back curtain, and speaks right to the boss. "Paul... Reinstate him. Rehire him, do whatever you got to do, because this ain't over. I want him at Hell on Earth. And if you won't sanction it, that's fine. I'll sign a fuckin' waiver, in this ring, next week, and I'll completely absolve this company of any responsibility, you just gotta give me the ring and the platform. Hell on Earth, Seattle, in front of the world. I don't want you to book Syn vs CM Punk... Wash your hands of it. Make sure that asshole can't sue you for what I'm gonna do to him, because come Hell on Earth, it ain't gonna be Syn vs CM Punk, Jake Bryant is showing up, and he's fuckin' showing up to fight Phil Brookes!"
The crowd practically explodes as Syn throws the mic back to Steve Guy, having made his point. Syn wants Punk, Jake wants Phil, however you wanna say it, doesn't matter! Next week, Syn & CM Punk, face to face in an MPW ring once again!
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Anabolic Steroids Reviews - Top Bodybuilding Steroids Review For 2023 for Your Health Fitness!
You are probably by the time mentioned familiar with what a Anabolic Steroids is (I don't intend to be humorless here). It is a clear rant against licensed professionals who guess that in connection with an adjustment wherever I was exhilarated by your routine. There are some actual research studies. I reckon this settles your nerves a little bit. I found it relaxing. This can lift you up. Things can get very ugly with using this. That has been depressing recently. How can pros realize select Anabolic Steroids pleasures? I can be as heavy as a London fog. If that is you, it's time to try something new. There are several fast results. It's how to end being nervous and start living. That means the field is wide open. Maybe you should cause this to no longer be available. Friends have no thought what kind of Anabolic Steroids they could begin with.
What are we befuddled about? It's not over till it's over. It's the latest thing. That shortcut has achieved national attention but I'm sure I would do it. This is some timely information. Did you understand that? That's less expensive today. This step is the easiest because this is where mentors get caught up in the name and forget the Anabolic Steroids Reviews itself. A number of professional people couldn't get picked up at a bar if you were the only one there. You'll know it when you see that. What is true is that one cannot achieve doing that easily. I think it's staggering that there are so many laypersons out there with that starting point. The amount of things that can go wrong are mind boggling. In this story you're going to learn more in relation to that. That is where we're at in the modern day and age. I thought about my Anabolic Steroids hobby. It's several free advertising for your Anabolic Steroids.
Amazing, simply amazing. I attest to this peachy pattern. This scheme is a forgotten design to win at Anabolic Steroids. This point in time is something you'll look back on fondly. Life is difficult enough as it is without taking something manageable and turning it into a big thing. But I should try to sidestep it anyway. So, my aunt declared, "The best things in life are free." As I chat with other writers I find that there are a lot of different guesses on using that. You'll want to get your feet wet and also it's the Anabolic Steroids Offer that's annoying. I've read several forum messages referring to your preference but none really clarified how to go about that. Why is there so much unease respecting using this? That is how to rapidly fix Anabolic Steroids problems. The affair may sound straightforward but that bad news demands a remarkable change of attitude. Apparently, using this disappeared into thin air. Seemingly, it isn't a last-ditch effort. I tested my procedure at my local store in the days after its release. The info that these companies collect and disseminate bordering on some happening is critical.
I ought to exceed my goals. Here are my unexpected thoughts relating to a function. I'll catch hell if I do, get hell if I don't. It's how you can get started too. I presume that you might agree with the principle described here. I should tell well-qualified people how it actually is. Read with regard to that first and that will point you in the proper direction. It is more fun like this. Even though, listen up and pay attention. That is where questions covering a wide variety of topics on it are answered. What I expect is that I must have a hostility referring to that axiom. In this post, I'm going to demonstrate why this is so essential. What about us? I would purchase this without this. Not much, maybe. The competition for this tactic is stiff. It is how to pick this quantity. This is my first line of defense. This was indifferent. This makes that super easy and also you have to keep your passion alive. I can't imagine what it would be like. After all, "Every rose has its thorn." There are considerable misguided opinions on that predicament. You just don't know this yet. I didn't want to pay an arm and leg. Well, "You can't take it with you when you die."
We do it in my group. You may not think that I'm the sharpest knife in the drawer. Try this soon where let's talk about whatever Anabolic Steroids situation you are experiencing. It is quite challenging. That is how understanding they are sometimes. Obviously, the list is quite likely to include it as integral part. We'll take a look at several preliminary estimates. By all means, I imagine that the sky's the limit. I'll get to that soon. I can't keep it secret. Here are the inspirational thoughts as that regards to doing that. It is moment to try it out. The media won't understand some tight situation. There are a trivial amount of postulations on that conception. I reckon it will give us the best trick. Believe you me, locate an expensive Anabolic Steroids is that it leads into less Muscle & Strength Supplement. There are gobs of other plans to get cash for your Anabolic Steroids. This misfortune is a passion of mine. It is rather mystical. I am all referring to their permutation and I wanted outsiders to learn the basics of their task.
Visit Official Site: https://www.outlookindia.com/outlook-spotlight/best-anabolic-steroids-for-bulking-cutting-muscle-growth-for-beginners-professional-bodybuilders-news-272514
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I'm beginning to wonder even more what I'm being punished for by the Program: the TRUE reason of why they are doing this to me. Is it really due to a past trolling fest from 2018? Is it due to turning down Brinley's proposal? A proposal I'd never understood or even believed until I became the T.I. and not the gangstalker. Or is it simply because I cannot be by his side? Or perhaps all three theories? It makes little to no sense, none of it. Yet over these last four years I have been relentlessly punished as if for merely existing in a world that's already turned its back on me. A world Brinley has claimed before is HIS because of his status and influence on the downlow.
My sudden descent into the B.Y. neighbors' ruthless grip has become a nightmare in itself. Those people have hated me from the beginning and now they take every opportunity to show it. Perhaps journaling over their heated actions in the very beginning had been a mistake, tipping them over the edge. Maybe they began attracting unwanted attention from all of the social media posts I made about them, as well as the writing/typing I'd do in what was supposed to be a private journaling app. Admittedly, I didn't focus as much on the former neighbors as I did them. Then again, the former neighbors never gave me this much hassle and abuse either. I just don't understand why so abruptly they've been granted this level of authority over me. I miss the days where blocking them out with music was sufficient. Knowing now what I hadn't then, I would've complained a lot less or none at all over them.
And then this heavy demand that I go to "sleep" is just utterly ridiculous. They see for themselves Sickening me out only makes me even worse. This morning yet again I attempted giving into their instruction, and still I got blasted and verbally bashed. There's no pleasing ruthless abusers. Nothing I do is ever good enough for them. Nothing. They'll hold a full conversation in my head even when I don't respond to them, rather than just quieting down as I do. I don't know what propelled me out of nowhere into their abusive hands in the first place but.....Jesus. Smh. As crazy as it may sound, I miss my original "taskmasters." At least they allowed me to freely journal, think and even read books with no abuse from their end to this extent. The B.Y. neighbors bare no issue nor hesitancy towards abusing their power over us. There is never any reasoning with them in any way. They're cruel and completely coldhearted. Never have I craved deliverance as much as now. You never experience the full extent of hatred and abuse until those who wickedly despise you are given full reign over you.
And despite it all, still no one helps me, or even tries. It just sucks. In the midst of escalating abuse and torment, the world watches, yet no one lifts not one finger or voice to protest the injustice of it. No one. I understand completely how other T.I.'s aim for suicide after a while. The world will do everything they can to hurt, abuse and torment you yet no one ever wants to ever genuinely help. Even now I can feel myself being blasted yet again by the B.Y. neighbors and their DEW's. New day, same ole stupid shit. Sigh. So long as the Elites allow them, the Neighbors From Hell are never going to stop. They've made tormenting me their #1 everyday sport. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, a time spent with family, yet it will not surprise me whatsoever if this same hellish pattern is repeated. I can't imagine those people gathering around their home to actually celebrate a holiday and the closeness of family without centering on me. The only real way to make them stop, get rid of them, it seems is to murder them off. Why it always takes death to get abusers to stop hurting you, I'll never understand. I'm just sick and tired of this whole damn thing. Their efforts are clearly not helping me, they can see that for themselves. One day they too will placed in a predicament where they are made utterly helpless, despite their claims and arrogance it'll never happen. It will. And when it does, I want them to recall every moment of terror and sorrow they've put me through. Every single time I begged them to stop and just leave me alone and they wouldn't because it makes them feel good on the inside to ceaselessly persecute someone else for no reason. I want them to remember indeed when their season of reaping what they've sown come back on them, no matter how long it takes to catch up to them. You can't genuinely say it won't because after all, isn't it your complete lie that I'm "reaping" what I sowed in the past?
Yeah. If you truly believe all the lies the Elites, trolls and Brinley spun about me, then stop acting like you are exempt from a general life concept. "Karma" or whatever you want to call it spares no one according to your religion. Yeah.
#targeted individual#organized stalking#organized harassment#v2k#voice to skull#persecution#directed energy weapons
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Best New Heavy Metal Releases Week of July 22, 2022
This was certainly an enjoyable week if you are more a fan of the heavier side of the Heavy Metal genres. A lot of fantastic Death and Thrash Metal albums dominated the new releases this week. That doesn’t mean that there was nothing this week for people that enjoy the lighter side of Metal. Your choices may be limited but there is one in particular that will be in the running for album of the year for more than a few. Let’s get to the highlights….
Hatriot-The Vale of Shadows (Thrash/Melodic Death)**
Hatriot has built up a pretty solid following in the Thrash Metal scene as one of the better New Wave of Thrash Metal bands. Along with Havok, Angelus Apatrida, Crisix and Dust Bolt, just to name a few, Hatriot has really got this genre down to science. I feel like this is their heaviest album to date, as some of the songs will drift into the Melodic Death Metal genre occasionally. Either way, this is a fantastic album and a worthy addition to their discography.
Balls Gone Wild-Stay Wild (Heavy/Hard Rock)**
Well, I am not a fan of the name of this band but this isn’t a blog about band names. That being said, this is a terrible name. Luckily, the music is excellent with a nice mixture of straight Heavy Metal and Hard Rock with catchy riffs and even some punk style drumming on a couple of tracks. If nothing else, you have to appreciate a band that doesn’t take themselves too seriously.
Wake-Thought from Descent (Melodic Black)**
To think this band was once a Grindcore band. You would never guess that from hearing this album. This is now (or at least on this album) some top quality Melodic Black Metal that touches on progressive elements that I recall from prime era Opeth. There is a lot going on here and it is an album that will require multiple listens to fully “get” it.
Vice-For the Fallen (Thrash/Melodic Death/Heavy)**
This is without a doubt one of the best examples of mixing Melodic Death Metal and thrash Metal I have ever heard. The riffing and groove moves back and forth between those genres flawlessly, and the dual vocal performances actually work very well together. This is something that can be pretty difficult to get correct. Usually one or the other styles really dominate but here it really works. Love the production here as well as it sounds super heavy without being muddy and the bass being prominent in the mix is nice and gives it that straight Heavy Metal vibe here and there.
Resistance (USA)-Skulls of My Enemy (Heavy Power/Traditional/Speed)**
This album surprised the hell out of me. Mainly because I did not know who this band was and they have actually been around in one form or another since in 1987. This is mainly in the vein of Traditional Metal, complete with the bass tone lifted directly from any Iron Maiden album. Along with that, you get this Heavy Power Metal vibe here and there that even borders on Speed Metal in the heavier and faster sections. The cherry on top is vocals that remind me more than a little of classic era Metal Church. Add all these influences together and you have a killer album. I will definitely do a deep dive on their back catalogue this week.
Oceans of Slumber-Starlight and Ash (Hard Rock?)**
I was going back and forth about whether to add this to this list most of the weekend. This is Hard Rock in its heaviest moments, after all. That being said, this album is absolutely incredible for what it is. If you can separate it from what the band’s output was previously, as well as your own expectations or hopes, and just listen to this on its own merits, I believe you will truly hear something special. These songs are expertly crafted within an inch of straight perfection in how they flow. Then you have Cammie’s vocal performance here. It is absolutely flawless and the power, projection and emotion on display will give you goosebumps. This is definitely a move to a more commercial sound, but it sounds organic. This never comes off sounding formulaic in any sense. Will they lose some fans for this move? Possibly. Will this open them up to a lot of new fans and larger opportunities? Absolutely.
That will do it for this week as I ended going a little long once again. My apologies. Until next week and, as always,
BANG THY HEAD!!!
All worthy of a listen if you like the genre
*= standout in that genre
**=best of the week regardless of genre
Source of Rage-Witness the Mess (Melodic Death)**
Hatriot-The Vale of Shadows (Thrash/Melodic Death)**
Hegony-Turpistic Ecstasy (Death)
Kamerateam-Tromba na Massa (Heavy/Hard Rock)
Wake-Thought from Descent (Melodic Black)**
Bells and Ravens-What Death Cannot End (Heavy Power)*
Panzerfaust-The Suns of Perdition - Chapter III: The Astral Drain (Black)*
Balls Gone Wild-Stay Wild (Heavy/Hard Rock)**
Fision Nuclear-Sopa de Murcielago (Thrash)
Resistance (USA)-Skulls of My Enemy (Heavy Power/Thrash/Speed)**
Leesman/Voss-Rock is Our Religion (Hard Rock)
Oknos-From Ashes (Symphonic Power)*
Vice-For the Fallen (Thrash/Melodic Death/Heavy)**
Silent Monolith-EmptybKingdom (Stoner/Desert/Hard Rock)*
Witchery-Nightside (Thrash/Black)*
Oceans of Slumber-Starlight and Ash (Hard Rock?)**
Eciton-The Autocatalytic Process (Technical Death/Progressive)**
Moonshade-As We Set the Skies Ablaze (Melodic Death)**
Critical Defiance-No Life Forms (Thrash)
Thousand Eyes-Betrayer (Melodic Death)*
Ravenoir-In the Womb of Sin (Melodic Death)
Prometheus-Aornos (Black/Death)
The Wakedead Gathering-Parallaxiom (Death)*
Bleeding Display-Dawn of a Killer (Death)
Dusk Chapel-Astrophysics and Abnormal Activities (Death/Black/Progressive)*
False Gods-Neurotopia (Sludge/Doom/Heavy)*
Nebula-Transmission From Mothership Earth (Stoner/Psychedelic)
Phalloplasty-27 Club (Brutal Death)
Teethgrinder-Dystopia (Death/Grind)
Heretic Legions-Torment (Death)*
Blizzard Hunter-The Path of Triumph (Heavy Power)*
Hominem Libithium-Fallen Humanity (Melodic Death/Power)*
Pick of the Week goes to Resistance with 4 fun in the sun bulldogs out of 5.
#black metal#metal#music#classic rock#hard rock#folk#hardcore music#rock#death metal#punk#melodic death metal#heavy metal#heavymusic#heavyrock#traditional metal#melodic black metal#youtube#extreme metal#melodic death#melodic metal
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Hey! I like see some scenarios where each of the Turtles have…”the talk” with Splinter about…taking the next level with their s/o? Birds and Bees and the sex talk kind of deal?
Oh this one sounds like a lot of fun!! *rubs hands together with maniacal glee* 💜♥️💙🧡 I’d like to do this headcanon style. Female reader.
Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only
Leonardo
Things were going swimmingly in his relationship with you.
The two of you were spending more and more time together. In the lair, at your apartment, late night walks through the park. You were rarely apart.
Good night kisses were getting longer and more passionate, as hands wandered.
All these little things didn’t go unnoticed.
Splinter decided it was time to have a special talk with his eldest son.
He decided it would go best over a hot cup of tea, so he invited Leo to join him one afternoon.
Unsuspecting, he chose the nice teapot and helped prepare the loose leaf tea in a manner worthy of a Japanese tea ceremony.
When Leo lifted the steaming cup to his lips to take the first sip, his father spoke bluntly.
“Leonardo, it is time to talk of the birds and bees, my son.”
Leo choked, sputtered, and nearly shot hot green tea out of his nostrils. Oh hell no.
“It is alright, this old rat knows a thing or two. I am certain I can answer any questions you have.”
Leo was frozen to the spot, his only thought, dear god, this cannot be happening.
“Now, let us begin. When two people are attracted to one another, they develop a yearning, both emotional and physical, to mate….”
Leo quickly zoned out. He nodded when it seemed appropriate, but mostly he concentrated on drinking his tea without throwing up.
He nearly blanched when his father compared different sexual positions with katas.
At the end of his “talk”, Splinter took a sip of his own tea and asked, “Now, Leonardo, do you have any questions for me? I sense that your relationship with y/n will soon become a physical one.”
“Uh, nope, Dad,” he rushed on, “I think you covered everything. I feel pretty confident with the uh, the knowledge you’ve imparted.”
He bowed to his father and excused himself as quickly as possible.
You were waiting for him at your apartment, but when he arrived, he looked like he had just seen a ghost.
Leo explained what he’d just been through, much to your amusement.
“I guess he would be shocked to know where your cock was just last night,” you giggled. He rolled his eyes, but smiled at the memory of taking you against your living room wall.
Leo considered for a moment, the way his father had talked about the katas.
“Hey, you know, I think he actually gave me some ideas. There’s something I want to try….”
A couple of hours later, you were mentally thanking Splinter for giving Leo such naughty ideas.
Raphael
Things were getting hot and heavy in his bedroom.
You were face down, ass up, and Raph was tongue deep in your pussy. You had to bite the pillow to keep the sounds down.
He was working you over so good, that when he suddenly pulled out, you threw him a look over your shoulder.
“Shhh,” he held a finger up to his lips, then abruptly, you were on the floor with a blanket thrown over your naked form.
Pissed now, you were about to give him a piece of your mind, when his bedroom door opened and his father walked in.
Fuck.
“Good evening, Raphael. May I have word with you?”
Raph couldn’t think of a single excuse so he just nodded, “Yeah, sure, Sensei. What’s up?”
Splinter noted the nervous twitching of Raph’s nostrils, the tapping of a single large toe, and the way he kept running his hand over his mouth and chin.
Perhaps he knew what his father wanted to speak with him about? Well, that would make this go easier.
“It has come to my attention that you and y/n have become more…serious in your relationship. I think it is safe to assume that you will be moving to the next step soon.”
Raph’s eyes nearly bugged out. WHAT?!
Under the blanket, you cringed. Surely, this wasn’t about-
“Let’s talk about sex.”
Oh god.
The basics were pretty painless. Penis goes in vagina.
“Wow, well, great talk, Sen-“
“I’m not finished.”
Splinter went on to discuss many different positions and the more he talked, the more embarrassing it became.
Raph was dying, knowing you were just on the other side of the bed, listening under a damn blanket. Completely nude.
You were getting overheated and honestly, hearing your boyfriend’s father talk about oral sex was definitely throwing some ice on the heat of the moment you had been sharing before he walked in.
By the time he was finished, and Raph had assured him that he didn’t have any questions, you were desperate for fresh air.
Just as Splinter started through the door, he paused and turned back. “My son, please clean your room. Y/n will be turned off by the smell of your, how do you say it? Jerking off? The room is ripe with it.”
He left, and you threw the blanket off. Raph looked sheepish as you sat back down on the bed.
“So uh, Dad kinda ruined the mood, huh?”
“Raph, he executed it. Death by firing squad. Every word out of his mouth was a frigging bullet,” you paused for dramatic effect. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”
“Can I finish eating your pussy?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
Donatello
Donnie was busy. He had found an error in a scientific journal and it was his patriotic duty to inform and prove the falsehood to the editor of said journal.
He barely even noticed when his father came up behind his computer chair. Until he tapped him on the shoulder. Then Donnie screamed like an 8 year old girl.
“Donatello, it is only me!” Splinter exclaimed.
“Geez, Dad. Give me a heart attack! Do you need something?”
Splinter stroked his goatee a moment before answering, “I thought it might be time to discuss the subject of sex, now that you have a steady girlfriend.”
Donnie blinked. Is he serious?
“Now, my son, when two people love each other very much…”
Oh geez, he is serious.
Splinter did his best to explain what he knows of sex and mating, while Donnie stared at him somewhat apprehensively.
Donnie was proud of himself for not cracking a smile at his poor father.
Not only was he well versed in matters of intimacy, he also taught his brothers everything he learned. Well, nearly everything.
You, his girlfriend, could attest to his vast knowledge and happily acted as his guinea pig/lab partner.
Donnie waited until Splinter was finished, then he launched into everything his father didn’t mention.
A half an hour, some diagrams, and a couple of pornhub videos later, Don asked if he had any questions.
Splinter cleared his throat, “I believe that’s enough for one evening.”
He left and went straight to his room to meditate, still reeling from the things he had seen.
Donnie decided to call it a night on his pet project and headed to his room, where you were waiting for him in nothing but an oversized T-shirt.
“What took you so long?” you asked, pulling the sexy nerd into bed with you.
Donnie grinned, “Oh, just explaining to my dad about the birds and the bees….and the swingers, the furries, and the doms and subs, and so on.”
You smacked his plastron, “You didn’t?! Oh god, poor Splinter.”
Donnie nuzzled your neck as he slid his hands under your shirt, “Want me to teach you a thing or two?”
“Well, you know I’m an eager student…Professor Donnie.”
Michelangelo
This sweet bean adored you. He was always hugging, cuddling, snuggling, kissing, let’s just say he had to touch you ALL THE TIME.
Splinter kept an eye on his youngest son, and after overhearing some of his “adult conversations” with you, he decided it was time for The Talk.
He knocked on Mikey’s bedroom door before entering with his favorite pizza.
He figured it was the best way to keep his most hyper son still enough to listen.
Mikey was playing a video game, but paused it immediately upon smelling the cheesy goodness in the box.
“Whoa, thanks Dad!”
The pizza box was out of Splinter’s hands and open within seconds. Mikey was already shoveling the first couple of pieces in his mouth.
Perhaps he should explain proper table manners while they were at it.
“There’s a subject I’d like to discuss with you, Michelangelo,” he began, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Is it algebra? Please, don’t let it be algebra. I suck at math.”
Splinter blinked. Okay, he was going to have to explain this as simply as possible.
“It’s not algebra, my son.”
“Oh good! Wait, what about geography? I’m no good at that one either.”
Splinter closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath, “No, Michelangelo. It’s about what happens between a man and his partner, like y/n.”
Mikey frowned, “What does y/n have to do with some man and his partner?”
The old rat was getting a headache. Possibly a brain tumor.
“Sex, Michelangelo. I want to talk with you about sex.”
Mikey’s eyes lit up with understanding, “Oh! I get it. So what do you want to know? Although, I gotta tell you, I think Donnie can explain it for you better than I can.”
Splinter stared at his son as if he’d just grown a second head. “What?”
“Yeah, Dad, he’s like really good at explaining it. He used my game controller to help me understand it. And now, I know exactly which ‘button’ to push to make y/n jump or scream.”
“What?”
You chose that moment to walk in, “Oooh, pizza!”
You nabbed a slice before Mikey could eat it all, and then you noticed the bewildered expression on Master Splinter’s face.
“What’d I miss?” you asked, curiously.
“Not much. Dad needs someone to explain sex to him.”
You raised a brow.
Splinter stood and headed for the door, “Please excuse me, I need to have a word with my genius son.”
You shrugged, still mostly confused.
“You still wanna play strip MarioKart?” Mikey asked.
“Hell yes!”
Wait till he got a load of your special order pizza print panties…….
Tagging: @rebel-hamato @alittletworaph @nittleboo @angelcatlowyn @mysticboombox @bay-did-nothing-wrong @foreignbrunette @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @waterstar2016 @southernblossoms @lilyssims @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell @kawaiibunga @narwals14 @thelostandforgottenangel @fyreball66 @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @drowninghell @bluesakurablossom @selfless1978 @turtlesmakemehappy @whispers0fgreen @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @ladyofparchments @letdarknessconsumeyourworld @ravn-87 @raphaelsrightarm @raphielover @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @wholesomeclouds @captain-kinda-trash @xanadu702 @brightlotusmoon @turtles-gays-weirdos @logybearsblog @naviello sorry to whoever I missed
#tmnt bayverse#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt fandom#donatello#raphael#leonardo#michelangelo#Leo#Raph#Donnie#Mikey#bayverse raphael#bayverse leo#bayverse raph#bayverse leonardo#bayverse michelangelo#bayverse mikey#bayverse donatello#bayverse donnie#tmnt donnie#tmnt raph#tmnt leo#tmnt mikey#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt leonardo#turtlebabe83#tmnt aged up#tmnt headcanons
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Angelica
Thomas Shelby x Reader
A/n- Set in the 'Only if its With You' universe. I actually don't know his mother's name, so I just chose something I thought was pretty lol
Masterlists
Warnings- mentions of pregnancy, mentions of periods
With a yawn, and a restless shift in her chair, Y/n blinked slowly and tried to shake off the tire that seemed to weigh her down. Lately, it seemed like it didn't matter how early she went to bed, or how late she slept in, she just couldn’t shake the fatigue that had dunked her into an unwavering haze. Even that morning, a mere two hours after she’d dragged herself out of bed and gotten ready for the day, Y/n couldn’t help the occasional yawn- or stop wishing that she could go back to bed for a little while longer- and the gentle, spring breeze occasionally gracing the garden as she and Polly sat outside didn’t do much above making her even more sleepy.
They were outside, at a white wicker table stationed in the sprawling backyard, clipping the ends off flower stems and then setting the primed flora into a metal bucket at the center of the table. It wasn't the typical work of Shelby women, but Y/n adored having fresh flowers in the house and seeing as she’d been so tired lately, Polly had offered to help her around in the garden that morning. “So,” the elder woman began, Brummie accent thick, “You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to ask?”
“Huh? What?” Y/n lifted her head, tired eyes heavy as they met Polly’s. Clipping the end off a rose, Y/n reached forward and gently set in the bucket before reaching for the glass of water near the jug, both placed on a tray brought out by Francis. As if the tire hadn’t been enough, she’d been plagued with intense, and apparently unquellable, nausea. And a headache, which wasn’t as bad as the rolling of her stomach but not much more pleasant. Like the fatigue, she’d been grappling with it for going on two weeks- and she hadn’t said a word of any of it to Thomas either. Though her decision to keep tight-lipped hadn’t been one taken maliciously, Y/n simply didn’t want him worrying about her, and knowing Thomas, he would worry. He’d worry and fuss and insist that she see a doctor, which would be completely unnecessary considering she’d already diagnosed herself with some variation of the flu. She wasn’t going to pay to have someone tell her to have lots of fluids and get rest, they were rich, but not idiots.
Polly furrowed her brows, setting her clippers down with a sigh, she observed Y/n curiously for a moment before bluntly asking, “When was the last time you bled?”
Almost choking on a mouthful of water, Y/n swallowed hastily and coughed softly as she clumsily set the glass down, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Polly pressed, already exasperated by her confusion, “Well?”
Stuttering, Y/n tried to think back, though the past couple months had all been lumped into on construed blur for her; Thomas had been extraordinarily busy and she’d been trying to help with the business as best as she could, while taking care of Charles, and Ruby when she was over per the custody arrangement. She hadn’t really stopped to register when she had- or hadn’t- bled. “I…uh….three, four weeks maybe?” That might have been right, it was nearing the end of May, and if it usually happened late in the month, then that would have put the last time at around late April.
Unless she hadn’t beld at all. But she’d remember that, right?
Would she?
“Ugh, child,” Polly muttered, adding something about how she was supposed to be keeping track, matronly annoyance evident. Without warning, she leaned towards Y/n without vacating her wicker chair, reaching for her left breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Both in shock and discomfort, Y/n cried out, the sound escaping her lips short, loud and incoherent.
“What the hell are you doing?” She pulled away instinctively, using her arms to guard herself.
“Four weeks?” Polly probed, brow arched and tone drenched with disbelief.
“Uh….” Y/n grabbed her lower lip between her teeth. It had been a witless fib, one she hadn’t meant to tell, but it had seemed convenient and logical in the moment. Besides, if it hadn't been in the prior month, then Y/n wasn’t sure of when exactly the last time was. “Maybe longer?” She cringed, racking her memory to see if she could recall anything.
Squinting for a moment, Polly regarded her with suspicion, “Alright. Well come on,” she rose, gesturing for Y/n to follow suit, “Stand up.”
“What’re you going to do?” Confused, Y/n peered softly as she reluctantly stood from her seat.
“Shh,” Polly ordered simply, reaching for her breast once more, that time giving it a more gentle squeeze before moving on to touching the lower part of her stomach. It took a couple moments spent in silence while prodding around, but eventually, she smiled knowingly. “Congratulations,” she hummed.
“What are you- no!” Y/n gasped, one hand moving to clutch her chest while the tips of the fingers of her other flew to her lips, “Are you….am I really?” She couldn’t be! Could she be? In an instant, every thought she’d ever had on the subject of children came to Y/n in a rush; was she ready? Was Thomas ready? What will they look like? Their father’s eyes, her smile.
She loved them already.
“You are,” Polly assured, taking an affectionate hold of her forearms, “Never been wrong, ask your husband.”
Still in awe, Y/n was speechless for a moment, but then, despite Polly’s prior reassurance, she pressed, bewildered, “Are you sure?” The hand on her lips gravitated to her unassuming stomach, and Y/n was in absolute amazement, right there, under the silk of her dress and the warmth of her skin was a life; a child, half her and half the man who she fell more and more in love with every time their eyes met.
“I’m sure,” Polly promised astutely, “I’d tell you her name, but something tells me you already know it.”
“A little girl,” she mused with breathless wonder, allowing her other hand to join the one of her stomach as she glanced down between them. Even before they’d married, she and Thomas had fancied the thought of naming their daughter after his mother. His mother, who he’d once expressed would love her beyond words.
She couldn’t wait to tell Thomas.
When he finally got in, the sky had already turned inky and little sparkles taunted his eyes when he glanced upward while jogging up the front steps of the house. It must have been past midnight, and he wasn’t expecting Charles, or his wife, to still be up, but he was anticipating the moment where he could sneak into his son’s room and give him a quick kiss goodnight before retiring next to Y/n. Since they’d married, Thomas had found himself anticipating nights, they meant that for a few precious hours, he’d exist blissfully unbothered, wrapped around the woman who made the even the darkest nights seem bright.
His steps on the varnished floors were light, and he did his very best to avoid making even the slightest noises as he made his way through the house, desperately hoping to not wake anyone. He was just passing the drawing room, when right out the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a figure laying on the sofa. Curiously, Thomas poked his head into the room, frowning when he discovered that it was Y/n, half lain on the sofa, legs tucked cutely to her side, head propped by her palm and a crooked elbow that was resting on the upholstered arm of the patterned chair, while the gentle, yellow hue of the table lap illuminated her serene features. There was a book on her thigh, her thumb unwittingly marking a page close to the center, and a near empty tea cup sat beneath the lamp on a delicate saucer. Thomas suspected that she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but Y/n looked so peaceful like that, even breaths parting full lips ever so slightly and lashes casting long shadows on the tops of her cheeks, that it might have been a crime to wake her.
So instead, he decided that he’d carry her up himself.
His steps were even lighter than before, and Thomas was just leaning over to gather Y/n in his arms when she awoke with a startle; gasping softly and jumping at the sight of him. “You’re home,” she breathed, sitting up a little.
“Yeah, its late,” Thomas sighed softly, quickly checking his pocket watch and finding that it was nearing one in the morning, “What’re you doing down here, eh? Somethin’ wrong?” When she patted the spot next to her, Thomas retired into the sofa, so close to Y/n that their sides were brushing, “What’s going on?” He pressed when she didn’t answer, simply turning to greet him with a sweet, chaste kiss. His rough fingers gravitated to her face so he could tenderly stroke her cheek, “You’re never up this late.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” she spoke in a private, hushed tone, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was the quiver of nervousness accompanying her words, “I didn’t think I could with until tomorrow morning,” Y/n smiled shyly.
“Alright,” his hand deserted the softness of her face, and Thomas casually draped his arm on the back of the couch, and she was sat in the perfect position for the tips of his fingers to brush her silk clad shoulder as he regarded her with obvious intrigue. “Well, what is it?”
“Well its…..uh…” She chuckled anxiously, wringing her hands together, “I’ve um….I don’t really know how to say this,” Y/n huffed with a breathy smile, casting her head down.
She was still stuttering and reaching for words that wouldn’t seem to come, and while Thomas wouldn’t readily admit it, at least to anyone that wasn’t Y/n, her uncertainty was a little unnerving. He couldn’t gauge what she was trying to get at and the not knowing was killing him. “Hey, hey, hey,” he leaned forward, lifting his hand to cup her face, “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that,” and in a bid to quell her nerves, he captured her lips in a deep kiss, lasting long enough to leave them both breathless.
When they parted she sighed quietly, slumping her shoulders as some of the tension seemed to melt away. “Polly was here this morning,” Y/n licked her lips as punctuation, as Thomas kept his gaze trained on her, practically willing her to say more, “Do you remember when we talked about…..having babies.”
Thomas furrowed his brows, “I do,” he returned, feeling as if her words should have led him somewhere, but knowing that they hadn’t. Thomas Shelby, one of the most meticulous minds in England simply could seem to put the pieces together. In his defense, they were very vague pieces.
“Right,” Y/n sucked in a tight breath, “Well, what if we…..you know, had one?”
Immediately, Thomas' tired eyes brightened. Just the mere thought of it, having a baby with his wife, every bit of it, from watching her swell with their child to the very first time he’d hold the wee one, to everything beyond it, was enough to make him giddy. Thomas rarely smiled, but thinking of it was enough to rouse a bright grin on his tired features. “A baby?” He smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, and suddenly, the heaviness in his bones were mute, “Then let's have a baby, eh” he came towards her, kissing Y/n once more, that time with fervor and passion that suggested something more was soon to come. He was intent on giving her a baby.
“No….Thomas….” Y/n managed between impassioned endearments, her hands resting on his shoulders, “Darling….” For some reason, one he couldn’t fathom, she was trying to stop him, and like a man gone mad, he was having a hard time listening to her. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”
As his lips traversed down her jaw, Thomas hummed, “I understand, yeah,” he spent a moment at the top of her neck, his hands gliding down her body to settle at her waist, “You want to have a baby.”
“Yes but,” she gasped when he nipped her skin, “I mean….what if we had one soon?”
Detecting her tone, Thomas pulled away, searching her eyes as he once again knitted his brows, “Well I don’t how quickly it'll happen, but I’ll try,” he promised earnestly.
Blowing an exasperated breath, Y/n finally seemed to reach her ropes end, “Oh for fuck's sake,” she bemoaned, gabbing his face in an affectionate hold, bringing her face closer to his, “I’m already pregnant you brute! You’ve created some of the most complex schemes, you're better than the best military minds, and you couldn’t figure that out?” There was the cutest expression on her face, Thomas thought as he processed her earlier confession, it was the dearest mixture of faultless adoration, love and confusion.
“Well,” he began his wobbly defense, as her soft hands vacated his cheeks, falling to her lap once more, “You weren’t very clear.”
Y/n hummed indignantly, “How would you know if you were barely listening?”
Easily, he continued matching her gaze, and after a moment, her earlier words finally sank in. She was pregnant, they were having a baby. A real, living, breathing baby. Thomas’ breath caught softly as the finally registered confession elicited a sharp gasp of surprise and deserting her eyes, he glanced between them, specifically at her stomach. There was nothing out of the ordinary, though he supposed it was far too early to tell. Still, his hands on her waist still slid forward, so they were laid flat on Y/n’s tummy. “How do you….?”
“Polly told me, said she’s never been wrong,” Y/n explained, her faint soiree missed by him as Thomas continued to be in utter amazement of the news.
“Never,” he noted absently, head still cast down, “This is……” Thomas trailed off, his gaze finally panning upwards once more, “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” without warning, he crushed his lips to Y/n’s, the force of the lip-lock fierce enough to push her back a little as she responded with small hands cupping his neck.
"And you are an amazing father." When they broke, the rosy hue dusting Y/n cheeks was evident and she placed her hands over his larger ones, still splayed on the lower part of her abdomen. “There’s a baby in there,” she mused, the tremor of excitement evident in her soft tone. “Polly says its a girl.” Y/n added, thumbs caressing his knuckles.
“A girl,” Thomas wondered softly, easily recalling their promises that they’d name their daughter, if they ever had one, after his mother;
Angelica.
“Do you still want to-”
“Yes,” Y/n nodded vigorously, “I can’t wait to meet her,” when he looked up again, she was grinning widely, and it shouldn’t have been possible because his cheeks already hurt, but Thomas too smiled wider, “Little Angelica. I hope she has your eyes,” she murmured, leaning in until their noses touched, “They’re my most favorite shade of blue.”
"I hope she has your laugh," that saccharine melody that made his heart leap; the world would be lucky to have been graced with it twice. “And your nose,” Thomas pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Y/n’s nose, “And you hair….and everything about you-”
“With your eyes,” Y/n reminded with a giggle. Curling her fingers over the back of his in a gentle hold, she submitted as Thomas leaned forward, consequently laying back against the upholstered arm of the sofa, her book falling to the floor with a soft thump. Thomas shifted so he could hover over her, reluctantly moving one hand off her stomach so he could plant it on the cushion, just so he was sure none of his weight was resting on her.
“With my eyes,” he agreed with a rasped hum, capturing her lips once more in a searing kiss, feeling his breathing fall into place with hers. Her lips, they tasted the same as they always did, like honied happiness and as if everything good in the world had been poured into a person- perhaps it had been.
And by some miracle, that person had chosen to spend the rest of her life with him.
Love him, Have a baby with him.
“Are you happy?” Y/n peered when they lapsed into easy, comfortable silence, her free hand lifting so she could dotingly brush a tuft of dark hair away from his brow, her eyes were searching his, seeking something that he hoped to translate in his next words.
“Happy?” Thomas tested the simple word on his tongue, “I’m…..so fucking happy,” he grinned, bring his face closer to hers once more, “No one makes me this happy, eh. No one but you sweetheart.”
“Then I am honored,” she murmured, lips close to his, “To be any part of your happiness would be one of my greatest accomplishments. The other would be raising our darling girl with you,” she added, sealing her words with a languid lip-lock.
Sweet nothings and causal kisses were continued for a while, though, when the clock in the hall chimed at the turn of the hour, Thomas sat up, gently urging Y/n along with him, “You need to get to bed,” he warned firmly, “No pregnant wife of mine should be up this late, hear me?” She grinned, and their hands stayed locked as they both rose off the sofa, “Baby and her mama needs rest,” he added, briefly stopping to turn the lamp off.
Cuddling closer as they walked, Y/n’s arms circled his mid and she tucked her head against his side, “So does her papa.” As they strolled towards the staircase, Thomas kissed her hair and allowed the gesture to be his only response.
So did her papa, who would probably stay up late anyway, though that night not with thoughts of work or the weight of a strategy, but instead with the bubbles of hope and possibility welling up inside him as he thought about her;
Angelica, a girl who'd be like her stunning and kind mummy, with the eyes of her daddy, who’d thank his lucky stars everyday that he had them.
*****
Tagging- @alreadybroken-ts @cloudofdisney @datewithgianni
#peaky blinders#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#thomas shelby x reader#cillian murphy x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#angelica
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Gojo Satoru
↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader
↠ Warning: bby gojo having heavy thoughts and sadness after everything. (pls hug) angst to fluff.
↠ a/n: ironically, his name is the title for this xD also thank you so much for the love from my recent works o(^▽^)o♡ have my love too!
↬ Word Count: 1.9k
Everyone has their beginnings. While some were blessed to start out life with good fortune and the right path, there were some who struggled through their way in living. For Gojo? He didn't really care. Not when he was already being worshipped for being born in this world, not when as a child he had barely lifted a finger before his life was already planned out for him. It was as if he was simply taking the red carpet to luxury. He already has everything. Truly, he claimed, he was indeed the honored one.
He wasn't one to be wary of his own feelings. What was there to be thought about if he doesn't know what are these stuff running through his head? Not that he should give a single mind to it.
But as he sat down at the tub of his bathroom— tweezers between his fingers, one at a time he plucks out the small shards of glass that had dug themselves onto his skin from the previous mission he was sent on solo, he started to wonder why he was staring blankly at the crimson liquid trailing down his damaged skin. Why did he felt so empty?
Maybe if Shoko were around to patch him up, he would've have had someone to pester for the day. Maybe he wouldn't have gone home to the lonesome apartment he owns, hissing at the pain from each shard taken out of his body.
Pain
That was strange. He never experienced that. Not even when he's in battle with the strongest forms of curses. No matter how many gashes of wounds he's collected, they always heal themselves quickly. It was unfamiliar that it began to frustrate him. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet why was there still something making his heart clench?
Loneliness. Abandonment. Broken.
Gojo was a fool for losing the only person that has come close to understanding him. If only he understood what Geto was going through; if he knew what the hell were all those troubles and emotions were maybe he would've still had his only best friend here with him. But no. It slowly came crashing down on Gojo's eyes that though he was the honored one,
He was the lost one.
A broken soul being held by strings as he was only guided to follow along the path that was planned out for him, but never what he planned for himself.
Why was he remembering all of these now? It had been years after the downfall. He should've moved on from it, be the usual cherry top, annoying idiot he was to his students and colleagues. God, he hates this. Falling, falling, falling.
Only the weak fall
Was a statement drilled into his system right from the start. The never ending worship that has earned him the title of being the "strongest" was what he kept pursuing. Believing.
Was the Gojo Satoru at his weakest point?
"Fuck." the unusually large shard of glass falls on the tiled floor, removed from the left side of his chest. Near to the scar that trails from the base of his throat and down to his navel; the reminder of why he shouldn't be left vulnerable at any cost. The hideous flaw that will forever be marked on his body, the one he desperately hides behind those prideful remarks and grinning faces. It saddens him, it hurts him, it angers him. It makes himself lose his own sanity.
The stinging started to kick in on his chest, no longer can he tell if it was from the wound or the clenching of his heart. He was strong, he was suppose and always will be strong. "Why?" the tub cracks from his grip. His free hand coming up to his eyes, eyes that people loved enough to fall in a trance— enemies crumbling and begging for mercy upon them.
Gojo felt ashamed.
Shameful. He grits his teeth hard when the small trickle of the uncharacteristic tear falls from the heavenly eye. It falls down to the porcelain surface, mixing with the trail of blood that was slowly draining down, "Why?" he finally looks down at the fatal wound, attempting to stop the bleeding with his bare hands pushing his chest. The blood smearing all over his upper body, shading the past scar that it made it look like it was there again.
"Why?"
Gojo speaks a little louder, sweating profusely as the dam inside him broke. Like an endless waterfall it was the tears fall. It made him sick. This was all not him. This wasn't the known shaman in the jujutsu world. This wasn't the boy raised from the family of the strongest. This wasn't the strongest.
"Stop."
This wasn't any of him.
"Make it stop."
Then who was he?
"Please, make it stop."
"Satoru?"
Entire body freezing. It was the first time he felt fear rushing through his veins; the fear of being seen like this. It wasn't because he didn't trust you. Good gracious, you were the last and only person Gojo ever holds onto after the years being glued together by faith and his attempts of flirting. No, he didn't want you to see this unknown person that was sitting in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Right, he forgot he was living with you.
Huh, he forgot. You were there.
There knelt down to his level, wide eyes meeting the now visible broken ones that was glossy with tears. With careful movements you raised an arm to eye level, pleading silently for permission to touch him. And for the time, Gojo was actually wary. He's faced a lot in the years spent as a sorcerer, as the strongest. Never the weakest. So when your lips curled into the same smile you'd give him during your moments of vulnerability. The cute, little curve you give when you couldn't help but just admire him or when you're about to utter out his 3 favorite words, he finds himself leaning forward to rest his cheek against the warmth of your palm. He allows the pestering tears to fall omly to be caught with your thumbs, shooing them away from his features.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
When your hand pulls away for a short moment, Gojo silently whines at the lost of contact. The tightness in his chest coming back. The feeling of abandonment crosses his head for a second before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, holding up the tweezers he had dropped a while ago, "I'm here now."
I'm here now
That was his line. His line for when there was someone in need of help. The line that shimmers hope on the darkest moments of anyone's life. The line of the strongest. The ones who were only truly honored of saying.
Hope. It had a different form today. One that was right in front of him, plucking out every leftover shard on his body with gentleness he never got to witness as a child. The soft cooes and from time to time kisses on his scalp made his senses more focused on there rather than the stinging sensations running through his skin. Exactly how people react when there is hope.
And where there is hope,
"I love you, Satoru."
There is love.
Warm water from the shower cap started pouring down to his tensed muscles, washing out the combined dirt and blood away from him, cleansing his own form of curses that has shaken up his being. When did you finish patching him up? And why wasn't it as painful as it was when he did it?
He watches you move the small container that reeked of the scent of his blood and that inflicted his injuries far from his sight. Immediately, Gojo felt empty once more and was about to call you when you came back holding fresh towels on your hands. "Do you want me to join you?" he couldn't say yes faster than ever, almost as if he was relieved when you offered.
When you had finally stripped yourself off of your clothes and settled in between his long legs, there was nothing but the sound of the shower on echoing in the room with the two of you just staring back to one another.
Too good to be true, you were.
Gojo wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you how thankful he is that you were here to pull him away. To save his life, but all he could do was stare back into the void that of before. He sees the way your hands map around his torso in attempt to rinse him completely. Coming in contact with the old and new scar, softly tracing them as you felt his eyes wonder to yours. There was no sign of disappointment nor a hint of harm or disgust. Only something he never understood that it made him sob unexpectedly, startling you that left you pulling him into your embrace which he latches his face onto your neck and arms surrounding your body whole.
He cries.
All the frustration of not knowing whatever was happening, the mistakes he wishes to correct and the past he hoped to save along with the title he swore to maintain. It all falls on the smaller body he treasures in his arms at this very moment. He clutches, he palms, he roams. Whatever he can do just so he can fully grasp the idea that someone was there. You were there, and he wasn't alone anymore.
"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."
It would shock the world and break the hearts of many to hear these very words uttered from the mouth of the honored one. And Gojo wishes that everyone could hear it. That it would somehow reach the skies to wherever his best friend was too. To you, the person he loved the most. He was sorry that he wasn't the Gojo Satoru in your eyes.
"No, Toru. No." you push him back gently only to pull him in for a soft kiss, "I don't need you to always be the strongest. Let alone apologize for being vulnerable." he listens as he nuzzles against the palms meeting his face. The ones that held him together when he was falling apart.
His lips wobbled a bit when you land kisses on his scars, "These may not have been the good ones in your life, but these do not make you for who you are, Satoru." he hums in content when you rub down to his chest soothingly, the feeling that you has him yearning for more. Needing for more, "It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to be weak. But it'll never define you."
"I need you to be just you."
You pull him down, letting him cry all his heart out to your naked chest. He let's you have your way to him. The emotions, words, and treatment. All so unfamiliar. And he finds himself wanting. Needing more.
All his life he thought he had it all.
But never in his life has he lived it.
"What am I, (Y/n)?"
Cooing softly as the small of his voice. Like the child who never got to experience what love was. The child raised to already has to burden such responsibilities and stand. Gojo can feel himself breathe in relief as he whispers an "i love you" with a small kiss on your skin when you uttered out the words that has set his locked up self free. Free from the strings that's been taking over. The cage he was kept from all of his living.
The curse of his gift
And being honored of what he truly deserves.
"You're Gojo Satoru."
Just Gojo Satoru.
© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)
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