#mega dick energy

[cupid-styles]

wait if hockey harry spots yn at his game and is reallyyyy cocky coming up to her! but she’s actually there for another guy on the OTHER team bc he asked her out on a date (which is after the game) and harry becomes sooo jealous and basically tries to rough that guy up during the game so he doesn’t take yn on the date 🤭🤭🤭

I am simply OBSESSED!!!!!! I may also have to do a part two for this lmao

based on this blurb about hockey!harry and ballerina!y/n

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: violence, harry being a mega douche, jealousy

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry's bored.

Usually, at hockey games, he's rarely ever bored. He's been playing the sport since he was three and learned to ice skate just as he started walking. Hockey is his entire life — and yet, Coach Brock took him out to let one of the newbies get some time on the ice, so now he's sitting on the bench like a petulant child, arms crossed over his chest with a frown.

"Lighten up, Styles," Coach Brock had scolded him when he saw the immature pout covering his star player's face.

So now he's waiting, half paying attention to the game in front of him. He'd played hard enough for the first period that he blocked nearly every shot the opposing team tried to make. He didn't care much to see how the freshman kid was playing — he didn't even care to learn his name, really — instead scoping out the crowded stands at the evening's game. It was filled with students and fans of the university, the energy so lively that it was almost enough to send Harry into another adrenaline rush.

Only, when he sees Y/N up in the seats, talking to a girl he's seen her walk around campus with, his heart feels like it skips a beat.

He'll never admit it to anyone (especially not her), but he's fascinated by her. He thinks she's pretty and talented, strong and funny. But Harry lacks emotional communication skills, so instead of attempting to woo her, every comment that comes out of his mouth is an insult. That's why his throat instantly gets dry the second his eyes zero in on her. It's the first time he's seen her out of her usual ballet garb, instead opting for a loose sweater. Her hair, which is always in a neat bun, is down. And she just looks so pretty.

The loud halftime buzzer sounds out, ripping Harry from his daydreams. He can't help but wonder if she could maybe, just maybe, be there to see him. The thought is enough to send butterflies rifling through his stomach. He attempts to ignore them, though, putting on his usual dull facial expression as his teammates get up to go to the locker room.

He scrambles, realizing he's getting left in the dust all because he was fantasizing about Y/N. Embarrassed, he stands from the bench, trying to quickly catch up.

Except, when he's passing the away team's locker room, he sees her in his peripheral vision, walking down the lengthy hallway with a giddy look on her face. He knows Coach Brock will have his ass if he's late, but he can't help it. He really, seriously can't help it.

"Come to see me, Cinderella?" Harry asks cockily, a smirk at the edge of his lips. Her eyebrows immediately furrow and her lips part.

"No," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side, "I'm actually here for Malcolm."

Harry squints his eyes, mentally running through the entire team. There wasn't a single person named Malcolm.

"Did you just make that up to fuck with me?" he questions, feeling irritated by her teasing.

Y/N snorts, a smug grin appearing on her face. "No, actually. Malcolm plays for the other team."

His hands immediately ball up into fists at his side, anger beginning to pulse through his chest. He wants to fire a million questions at her — most importantly, why? — when Coach Brock sticks his head out into the hall.

"Styles! Stop trying to get your dick wet and get in here!"

His face warms, his jaw clenched as he turns on his heel to enter the locker room.

On his way in, he hears Y/N's voice bounce through the interior.

"Oh, don't you worry, Coach! He doesn't stand a chance!"

. . .

Approximately two seconds after halftime ends, Harry finds Malcom's jersey number, his eyes glued in on the player on the opposing team as he skated around, missing shots left and right. He was a shit player — why the hell would Y/N be interested in him?

As a punishment for being late to the halftime meeting, Coach kept Harry out for the first five minutes of the third period. When he realized the newbie was letting the game get away from them, they both knew he had no choice but to allow him back in.

So now Harry's attempting to take out his anger on every shot that's catapulted in his direction, expertly blocking the puck time and time again. His heart is thrumming steadily in his chest, he's sweating beneath his gear, but he's zeroed in — not just on the game, but on Malcolm, too.

Harry's waiting. Desperately so. All but begging him to do something so he has an excuse to launch his stupid body through the rink, landing punches to his face so he never has a chance with Y/N ever again.

With seven minutes left of the game, Harry's team is already up by 10. There's no way they're losing this one, especially with the way he's playing. But that's not the goal here.

Malcolm attempts to shoot another shot into their net, which Harry blocks easily, using his stick to send it skidding down the length of the ice. He can tell he's feeling defeated by the way his shoulders deflate slightly, and it makes Harry laugh behind his mask.

And apparently, that's what does it.

Just as he was about to skate away, Malcolm turns to look back at Harry, despite the game continuing on the other side of the rink.

"Something funny?" Malcolm asks, skating closer to his goal.

"Fuck off," Harry spits, slamming his stick down against the ice. "Think you have a game to lose, asshole."

"Is there a problem?" he snaps, inching closer to Harry. He cackles, letting his hockey stick smack down again.

"You're my fuckin' problem." Harry replies. "Get any closer to my goal and I'll kill you."

Malcolm lets out an amused snort, dropping his stick. It's only a moment before he extends his arms in front of him, pushing Harry harshly. Bingo.

He allows him to think he has the upper hand before he lets his own stick to fall, snapping his hand back and allowing it to collide directly with his jaw. A shocked sound falls from Malcolm's lips as he attempts to keep up with Harry's punches, but he falls back against the ice before he's able to get a single shot in. His vision is entirely red as he lands one final blow, feeling two pairs of arms pull him off. He hears loud, high-pitched noises from the refs' whistles, but all Harry can focus on is wanting to see the damage he's caused.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Coach Brock hisses into his ear. He realizes he's one of the people that stopped him, his hand locked roughly around his wrist as he guides him off the ice. The other hand belongs to the team captain, Dom.

"He was talking shit," Harry mutters, ripping his arm away from Dom's grasp. He reaches up to tear his helmet and face guard off, throwing them on the ground as Coach pulls him to the locker room.

"I don't give a fuck," he sneers, pushing him down onto the bench. The adrenaline is still pumping through his system, making it seem as though he can feel every single cell thrumming in his body. "You're so fucking suspended it's not even funny, Styles."

Harry grumbles as Coach Brock leaves the locker room, slamming the door in his wake. Wordlessly, Dom follows him. He knows they have a giant mess to clean up because of his actions tonight — both literally and figuratively.

Somehow, it doesn’t matter to him, though — not as long as Y/N doesn’t think he’s an animal now.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

..couldn't help myself 🤭

tonowari x cock analysis hcs ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆

• i canon that tonowari's actually not that long. the common assumption is that every single na'vi has a fkin horse cock mega-shlong situation, but legit wari's big dick energy isn't from the length, but rather the girth

• the girth on that thing is giant. he's definitely thicker than he is long, usually pretty thick flaccid too - although once erect, babyboy has a big-ass cock

• said cock also leads to a gorgeously bulbous tip too ofc; almost mushrooming out over the top of his shaft, his thick blue foreskin encasing that sensitive cockhead ever so gently, often glowing luminous dots littered all over his pretty ocean skin

• tonowari knows he's packin' too, bc he can feel it. doesn't matter if he's got layers or not; and being of the metkayina clan, the thickest material they sport is straight up linen-level fabric

• therefore, papa bear feels his cock all. day. long. not just the heavy shaft and rounded tip, but also his big heavy balls too. this mans has a seriously weighty set; paired with his giant toned blue thighs, he can feel the bounce and jostle of his soft sack and bulge almost constantly

• it def becomes a little uncomfortable too, hence the manspreading and squatting when he's relaxed. it often gives tonowari that much needed space to let his junk rest in one area, as opposed to being all squashed and smushed up against his upper thighs and pelvis (although ngl, keeping the soft swells all cozied up between his legs is big self-soother for him)

• but when he does let it all rest, this daddy's cock hangs too. being so heavy and thick, it's only natural for tonowari's cock to curve down, almost pulled forward and lolled back and forth by the weight of his own shaft and balls

• as he moves around, they def continue to move too; his rounded sack likely slapping against the back of his upper legs with some almost silent 'pap pap pap's--his length swaying front to back or side to side in rhythm with whichever movements he does - it's lowkey very distracting for the poor bby

• has an especially sensitive cockhead too - specifically the underside of the tip. the ridge is so chubby that as it's almost it's own surface, the sensitivity of a wet tongue or warm, clenching pussy just makes him throb and groan for you

• likewise, stimulating the back of his balls and taint are some of the quickest ways to make this bby cum hard. the first time you did it, ngl it took him by surprise; slurping up his tightened blue sack, you extending your tongue just that liiil bit further triggered one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had;

• since then, this mans will 100% extend two of his fingers back there, pushing the skin of his heavy sack back too for the extra pleasure; just to tip him over the edge as he tugs and jerks at his big, girthy cock; eyes clenched shut in sheer anticipation and need

• has a lot of cum, too. unlike jake or quaritch, tonowari usually doesn't leak nearly as much others, but once he cums, he cums. thick, warm reams of creamy white spurts from his throbbing cockhead, usually not that far, but there's a lot of it maybe even a hyperspermia bby but u didn't hear that from me

• he cums with a lot of force, but lots of that energy is used to get such a high volume of cream from his cock in the first place; therefore it often pools or soaks whatever it's around - not so much long reams or shoots, but more heavy, hot, intense rams or thrusts to fill up your aching pussy or needy mouth

#i honestly could've written more but wanted to trial the energy #y'all enjoy this one or nah? #hope u did :):)) #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x you #tonowari x reader #tonowari headcanons #tonowari smut #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar smut #na'vi smut #na'vi x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #colonel quaritch smut #miles quaritch x afab reader

[submissiveking99]

Zone-TV New Emplyee

OPEN RP

"So.... this is fucking amazing." Zone-Tan of Zone-TV grumbled as she sat at her news desk, leaning against her own hand as she looked down at your job application. Her eyes glancing between the paper and your muse, flicking between the two every now and again, her tone... far from pleased.

Zone-TV was in need of new blood, and the dickheads up top demanded SHE be the one to select the new tallent. She had no idea why they thought that shit idea was the way to go, but she didn't care. What she cared about was how every fucking dingbat who came through this audition seemed to be a limpdick dumbass! Luckily, your muse was possibly the most impressed she'd been all day

"Okay bud, I'm gonna be honest with you." she spoke, not looking down from the papers "Your job is to dick down women on command.... unless you're a chick, then use fingers or some shit. Not be some 'super powerful awesome badass alpha all the girls bow down to', you're the dick needed for the videos. So... what do you bring to the table?" she asked, raising an eyebrow "And don't bring the super macho 'all the women love my mega hog' bullshit energy. I mean, do ya have tentacles? The stamina to handle multiple takes? Lots of weird kinks we can have fun with? Gotta give me something, Pal."

As she spoke, she extended her leg out. Letting her foot brush against your muses thigh as she smirked

"If you impress me, I might just make working for me worth your wild~." she winked "I've needed a new 'seat' for while I record videos, and your face is cute." she winked

#read rules before interacting #rp post #open smut rp #open to all #smut rp #open rp #rp starter

[tigertales9]

More Than Anything

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Angst / Body image issues due to pregnancy / Smut (Pt. 2)

Description: This fic takes place during the off-season a few years in the future. You and Joe are married and expecting your first child.

A/N: Drama from a soon-to-be mama! Seriously, y'all, this got a little dramatic. Most of the drama and angst comes from pregnant reader struggling with body image issues and hormone swings in the last few weeks of pregnancy. There's a little smut and fluff in part 2. (Part 2 will be up by the end of the week).

Part 2 is now up : More Than Anything II

----------------------

Cincinnati, Ohio ~ a Friday in mid-May a few years in the future

You pull your car into the garage and kill the engine, working up the energy to heave your mega pregnant self out of the low-slung coupe for several seconds before doing the actual deed. Joe had bought you a family-friendly SUV when y'all found out you were pregnant, but you're stubbornly driving your cute sports car as long as possible.

"Damn," you mutter when you're finally on your feet, the rivulets of sweat cascading between your sore boobs giving you major ick as you pop the trunk of your car, reaching in to grab the shopping bag full of super cute baby paraphernalia. "Hot and sweaty and gross," you grumble, feeling a pang of regret that you hadn't felt like doing more shopping with the girls after they set up an amazing brunch for you with all of your fav foods. You'd only lasted about 45 minutes into the post-brunch shopping spree -- one measly store -- before calling it quits to head home. They understood, of course, since you're big-time pregnant, but it's still a little annoying.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you walk in the house, the air cool and crisp unlike the hot and humid reality of the great outdoors. You kick your shoes off and give a quick glance to the living room sofa looking for Joe. The sofa is empty so you figure he might be upstairs taking a nap. "Sounds like heaven," you sigh, needing nothing more than a cool shower and a nap to make you feel somewhat decent.

You make your way up the stairs and notice the door to Joe's office is partially open, faint sounds spilling out into the hallway. He's prob watching game film, you think to yourself, smiling as you head in that direction. You push the door open and stick your head in; it takes about 5 seconds before you realize your husband has his dick in his hand while ogling some super graphic porn.

"What the fuck!" you hiss.

Joe almost turns his desk chair over when he leaps out of it, snatching his shorts up and slamming his laptop closed all in one motion. You'd be impressed by his agility if you weren't so fucking mad.

You drop your shopping bag and spin around, hurrying toward the master bedroom, rolling your eyes when he calls your name. You slam the door and press the lock before walking into the master bathroom, slamming and locking that door as well. You sling your purse on the countertop and stare at your reflection in the mirror. "Sweaty, fat fucking mess!" you sneer, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You grab some tissues and wipe your face, going completely still when you hear Joe's voice just outside the bathroom door.

"Babe, let me in. We need to talk."

That pushy asshole picked the bedroom door lock, you think to yourself, narrowing your eyes when he speaks up again.

"Let me in please."

"Fuck off!" you holler. "I don't wanna talk to you right now!" The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you hear the faint 'click' of the lock being picked before the bathroom door swings open. "I had that door locked for a reason!" you snap, slowly turning to face him.

"We need to talk," he repeats, tucking the toothpick he used to pick the lock into his pocket.

You take a deep breath before speaking. "I said I don't wanna talk right now," you grit out, trying as hard as possible to keep your voice even. "I need space so kindly fuck off."

He takes a couple of long strides toward you, holding a hand out. "Let's just talk it out, please," he says, eyes going wide when you slap his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" you scream, your vision going slightly hazy for a second as you stumble backwards, catching yourself on the bathroom vanity.

"Easy, baby," he mutters, "you need to calm down."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Calm down?" you sneer. "Calm fucking down?"

"Yes, I think you should calm down."

"And I think you should fuck off!"

"It's not good for you or the baby for you to get this worked up."

Your mouth drops open at the audacity. "I'm worked up because of you, shithead! How many times do I have to ask you to leave me alone?" you shriek. "If I lose this baby it's gonna be your fault!"

He immediately backs out of the room, his eyes filled with apprehension as you take a few wobbly steps forward and plant a foot on the bathroom door, kicking it closed as hard as you can. The damn door rebounds back toward you and you rush forward and slam it shut with both hands, sliding down to the floor as your body is racked with deep, guttural sobs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize you're overreacting but you can't stop. You continue to sob, coughing and choking on your snot before you feel a wave of nausea stirring in your belly; you barely make it to the toilet before your brunch comes back up.

You eventually flush the partially-digested food and stumble to the sink to rinse your mouth out, your head spinning as you lean over to spit in the sink. "Fuck," you whisper, sliding to the floor, contemplating what to do next. Gotta call Mom, you think, pulling your purse down off the counter and grabbing your phone out. You hit her number and put it on speaker, laying flat on the floor with your phone next to your throbbing head.

"Hey sweetie," she answers.

"He … hey," you gasp, trying to sound somewhat normal.

"What is it?" she demands. "You don't sound good."

"I'm not good!" you sob, sniffling and coughing before finally falling silent.

"Oh God, what is it?" she croaks. "Are you in the hospital? Is it the baby?"

You immediately feel like shit for making her worry. "No, no, no … the baby and I are physically fine. I'm just mentally screwed," you sniff, trying hard to keep your composure but failing miserably. Your sobs start up again and you struggle to contain them as she tries to soothe you.

"Sweetie, focus on my voice, okay?"

"Okaaaay," you wail.

"Listen, I need you to take a really deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting it out, okay?"

"Okay," you answer, slightly less agitated as you do her bidding.

"Do it again," she urges.

You follow orders and finally calm down enough to breathe normally.

"Now tell me what's going on," she coaxes. "Did you have brunch with the girls? I know you were looking forward to it."

"Yeah," you snort. "Seems like Joe was looking forward to it, too. Apparently he couldn't wait to get me out of the house."

"What happened?"

You tell her the whole story, up to and including coming home early to find him jacking it to graphic porn.

There's several seconds of silence before she comments. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … I was afraid you caught him in bed with another woman or something. You sound absolutely heartbroken."

"I AM absolutely heartbroken! I'm fat and gross and he's jacking it to porn while lying through his teeth telling me he thinks I'm beautiful and sexy and blah, blah fucking blah!"

"What makes you think he's lying?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Ummm, yes?"

"Because he apparently needs to JACK IT the second I step out the house! And don't accuse me of holding out on him! My libido has always been sky high and that hasn't changed one bit! We've been going at it several times a week and he got a knee-buckling blow job just yesterday. Sucked him drier than the Sahara!" Your mom clears her throat and you remember who you're talking to. "Sorry," you mumble. "That was a little TMI."

"No, we're both adults. I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to confide in me." She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Honey … listen …"

"If you're gonna try and justify it you can save your breath," you snap.

She heaves another sigh before speaking. "I'm not trying to justify it, but the truth is men won't ever be able to understand how hard pregnancy is on women. They'll never get how vulnerable we feel, how our hormones go crazy and our moods swing back and forth between bliss and fear and uncertainty."

"So because they're unempathetic shitheads they get a free pass?"

"No … I guess I'm just trying to say he didn't mean to hurt you."

"You think I'm overreacting don't you? That I'm a hormonal shitshow who should just be happy he's not actually screwing around on me?"

"No, not at all, but let me ask you a question. How would you feel if this same thing happened before you got pregnant?"

You contemplate the question, sniffling a few times before answering. "I mean, I wouldn't love it, but it wouldn't be a big deal."

"So it's the timing, right?"

"Obvs." You immediately start crying again, trying to talk between sobs. "He's ruined everything! Lying to my face about how gorgeous he thinks I am when he really thinks I'm huge and fat! He's probably been giving me pity sex for the last few months. I actually can't stand the sight of him! Even worse, I don't want him looking at me! He's just gonna run to the internet and compare me with all the fit, skinny women he's jacking it to. Fuck that!"

"You need to calm down, okay? I'm worried about your blood pressure."

You take several deep breaths trying to get yourself under control. "I know you and Joe both think I'm overreacting, and hell maybe I am." You dig in your purse for a tissue and blow your nose before continuing. "I just have this mental image burned in my brain of him sitting there with his dick in his hand ogling some random woman fingering herself. Super gross close up too, couldn't even see her face."

Your mom clears her throat again like she always does when she's uncomfortable. "Well yeah, that's obviously not something most wives want to see their husbands doing, especially not when they're heavily pregnant."

"I just wish I would've felt like doing more shopping with the girls. Why did I have to come home early? Everything's ruined now," you sniff.

"Oh honey, I understand you're hurt but that feeling will pass with time."

"I don't think so. I don't feel the same way about him now."

"You're scaring me a little."

"I'm scaring myself."

There's a tense pause before your mom breaks the silence. "Where is Joe right now?"

"I don't know. I screamed in his face when he wouldn't leave me alone. Told him if I lose the baby it's his fault."

"Ouch."

"Well, he had it coming. He refused to give me space when I asked calmly so I had to escalate."

"Listen, I'm looking at flights right now; there's a 3:45 nonstop out of Dallas that will get me to CVG at 7:00. I'm about to buy a ticket and throw some stuff in a bag."

"Thank you so much," you whisper, trying hard not to start crying again. "Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?"

"No, I want you to relax. I'll rent a car. I'll be at your house by 8:15 or so depending on traffic."

"Love you."

"Love you too, sweetie. See you soon."

You end the call and stare at the ceiling for a minute before heaving yourself up off the floor, swaying a bit as you waddle over and turn the shower on. You strip naked, avoiding your reflection in the mirror as you step into the shower, sighing in relief when the cool water cascades over your hot, sweaty skin. You wash and condition your hair then lather up with body wash, the occasional tear sliding off your chin to drop onto your pregnant belly before being washed away.

"I hate him," you whisper to yourself as you step out of the shower and grab a towel, drying off before walking into your closet. "Hate myself too for believing his bullshit," you seethe, thinking back on several conversations y'all had over the past couple months, the gist of which was always :

"I feel fat and gross," you'd grumble.

"You're exquisitely beautiful," he'd sigh, pressing gentle kisses on your sore breasts and growing belly. "You look like a goddess."

You shake your head as you pull yourself back to the present. "Lying motherfucker," you sneer, grabbing a pair of stretchy black boyshorts before reaching for one of Joe's t-shirts; you immediately pull your hand back like you touched a hot stove, a knot of despair forming in the pit of your stomach. I don't even want his shirts touching me, you realize, dropping to your knees as your body is taken over by sobs. "I hate him!" you scream between gasps and coughs and dry heaves. "He ruined everything!" You literally see a haze of red and squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your face against the closet floor. "I fucking HATE HIMMMMM!" you bellow, whipping your head around when you feel someone touch your leg.

"Babe, you have to calm down," Joe pleads, "you're scaring the shit out of me!"

You knock his hand off of your leg. "Don't fucking touch me!" you snarl, scooting as far away from him as possible while scrambling to cover yourself with your bath towel. "Why are you still here?" you snap, wiping your face on the shorts still gripped in your hand while shooting absolute daggers at Joe.

"I was really worried about you. I thought I might have to rush you to the hospital if shit went sideways."

"Shit has most def gone sideways," you cackle mirthlessly, waving a hand to shoo him out of the closet. "Do you mind fucking off so I can get dressed? You've seen me naked for the last time."

He gives a quick nod and walks out of the closet, pulling the door closed behind him.

You blow your nose on the shorts and throw them in the hamper, pulling a fresh pair out and stepping into them before rummaging around for a maternity t-shirt. You'd been exclusively wearing Joe's shirts around the house for the last couple months, so it took some digging to find something else; you finally yank on a graphic tee that your grandma bought you that says 'Baby on Board'.

You walk out of the closet and head to the sink, splashing cold water on your face a few times before patting dry. Your damp hair looks like a fright wig from all the rolling around on the floor but you couldn't care less. Numbness is steadily seeping into every cell in your body, and you embrace the feeling of just not giving a shit.

You open the bathroom door and immediately freeze; Joe is across the room sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He looks up when you walk into the bedroom. "So I guess you heard my entire conversation with my mom," you state, taking in his bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks with absolute indifference.

"Yeah," he admits. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was just worried about you."

"Humph," you snort, giving him a 'yeah right' look.

He opens his mouth to speak then quickly closes it, eyeing you warily before finally speaking up. "I'm so fucking sorry," he mutters, giving a pitiful sniff.

"Cut the shit, sweet cheeks. We both know you're only sorry you got caught."

He shakes his head. "Not true! I'm sorry I made you feel this way. I'd give anything to take it back."

"Too bad! I certainly can't unsee what you were drooling over." You give him a contemptuous sneer. "I don't think my Ob/Gyn has seen my snatch that fucking close up."

"I wasn't drooling," he argues. "I actually wasn't even, ummm, pleasuring myself at that point."

"Boy please!" you snap. "You're not gonna make this better by lying to my face."

"Just hear me out for a minute," he pleads. "I was thinking about you when I searched for that porn."

"You have got to be shitting me?"

"Nope. I was thinking about what happened yesterday after I painted your toenails. Got me heated."

You raise an eyebrow as he continues.

"I just thought if I did a quick search for a solo vid with your hair color, petite build, no face, I'd be able to pretend it was you."

You stare at him for a bit before busting out laughing. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joseph Lee. We both know that's a damn lie."

"It's true!" he argues. "I thought I could maybe squint if it didn't look exactly like you, but that didn't work." He shrugs. "I was already losing my hard-on when you walked in."

You give him an incredulous look. "Why did you lose your hard-on?"

"Because the woman in the vid wasn't as, uhhh, well groomed as you. Among other things."

"Poor baby lost his boner because of an unruly bush." You roll your eyes. "Sorry I came home before you found something more to your liking."

"I was already done at that point. I was never going to find what I was looking for so why bother?"

You give a derisive snort. "With the vast amount of vag on the internet, there's no way you couldn't find what you were looking for."

"I've tried a couple times. Not recently!" he quickly adds when you narrow your eyes at him. "Its just that nothing compares to you."

You stare at him for several seconds before responding. "I guess I should feel grateful that I'm coming in first with all the massive amount of cunt comparison shopping you're apparently doing. That's good to know."

"I'm not doing it that much," he protests. "I've done it like two other times over the last year but gave up because you can't replace the irreplaceable; what i really want is you."

Smooth talking motherfucker, you think to yourself. He probably thinks I'm buying this bullshit.

He clears his throat and continues. "I mean, if I had nude pics or vids of you I would never look for anything else."

You narrow your eyes at him. "So now it's my fault since you don't have nude pics or vids of me?"

"No! That was my idea, remember? I'd have to kill somebody if that stuff got leaked!"

You take a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly before speaking. "Look, I'm tired of this conversation," you grumble. "The truth is I wouldn't really care about this shit if I wasn't fat as fuck right now, but you've made me feel absolutely horrible and I'm not just gonna sweep it under the rug."

"You're not fat. You're pregnant."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," you snark. A thought hits you and you take a step closer to Joe, locking eyes with him. "Let me ask you a question -- when you did your little porn search trying to find someone who looks like me, did you include big, fat pregnant belly?" He breaks eye contact and looks at his feet without answering. "That's what I thought, asshole," you sneer, "you were trying to find someone who looked like me before I got huge and fat!"

"You're not …"

"Shut up!" you snap, rolling your shoulders several times to ease some tension. Your eyes eventually land on the cutesy shopping bag filled with items for your baby boy, your stomach turning as you look at it. "What's that shit doing in here?" you ask, pointing at the bag.

"I brought it in. You dropped it earlier when …"

"When I walked in on you stroking your dick to some spread-eagle porn."

"I wasn't …"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, grabbing the shopping bag before walking out into the hallway. "I'll donate this stuff," you mutter, casually tossing the bag of baby goodies down the stairs before walking back into the bedroom. "I'm not keeping anything that reminds me of this absolute clusterfuck of a day."

"Including me?" he croaks, biting his lip while you look at him with thinly-veiled contempt.

You give a shrug. "Haven't decided yet." You tilt your head to the side. "The good news is -- if I do leave -- you'll have plenty of cleat chasers and hard-core porn to keep you warm. You don't need me."

"Yes I do need you!" he protests, "I need you more than anything!"

You watch tears spill down his cheeks and feel absolutely zero compassion; it's actually a little scary. "Like I said, I'm tired of this conversation," you sigh. "I need to book a hotel for a few days for me and my mom."

"No!" he gulps, sniffing loudly while wiping his face. "I caused all of this so I'll leave. I'll go stay at my parent's house for … however long you want me to."

"And what are you gonna tell them? That your grossly fat hormonal wife overreacted like crazy over something silly and kicked your ass out?"

"No, I'm gonna tell them the truth."

"Yeah right," you mutter, rolling your eyes as you grab your phone out of the bathroom before heading downstairs to the kitchen. You pull a pitcher from the fridge and pour a glass of water, gulping most of it down before refilling it. "So dehydrated," you grumble, gingerly maneuvering yourself onto a barstool at the kitchen counter while considering your next move.

Your eyes land on your phone and a thought hits you. "Perfect," you whisper, quickly searching for what you need. A minute later you hit 'play' on a video, your eyes going wide at the action on the screen. "Holy shit," you mutter, mouth dropping open a little before you hear Joe's voice directly behind you.

"Am I interrupting?" he snaps, dropping his duffle bag with a loud thump.

"No," you mumble, slowly shaking your head.

"I, ummm, need to ask you a question."

"Okay." You tilt your head a bit, continuing to stare at the screen.

You hear Joe heave an aggravated sigh. "Can you pause that or something? I can't talk to you while you're ogling some dude stroking his huge dick."

You spin your barstool around and lock eyes with him. "I did the same kind of search you did -- solo, no face, tall, athletic, blonde, well-hung." You stick the phone in his face. "See? If I squint he kinda resembles you. Glad you gave me the idea."

He takes in your petty smirk for a few seconds before his gaze is drawn to the very porny action staring him in the face; his nostrils flare with anger and he bites his lip in a way that looks hella painful. After a bit he locks eyes with you again. "You enjoying that?" he grits out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while you let the silence stretch out.

You eventually hit 'pause' and set the phone on the counter, never breaking eye contact. I fucking dare you to say something, you think to yourself.

After staring at each other for several more tense seconds he huffs a sigh and breaks eye contact, knowing full well you have the word 'hypocrite' in the chamber -- locked and loaded -- ready to pull the trigger if he's dumb enough to say jack shit about you doing exactly what he did.

He rolls his shoulders and stares at the ceiling for several seconds before meeting your eyes. You can tell he's mad but trying to hide it. He clears his throat before speaking. "I checked the calendar and your next doctor appointment is Monday at 10:00 a.m. I need to be home before then so I can take you."

Your eyebrows fly up. "Excuse me? You're not going to the doctor with me."

"Why not? I've been to every single appointment I could make, and I really want to go to this one since they're doing an ultrasound."

You're shaking your head no before he finishes his sentence. "Not happening. I don't want you there. I don't feel comfortable with you anymore."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"That's not fair!" he argues, softening his tone when you narrow your eyes at him. "He's my baby too."

"And it's my fucking body that's carrying him. And my fucking body that's probably gonna have to get cut wide open to deliver him."

He winces when you deliver that last line. "Maybe we'll get good news."

You shrug. "You heard my doctor's opinion after my last ultrasound -- baby boy is big and he's breech, pretty small chance that corrects before 39 weeks."

Joe takes in your apathetic expression as he picks his thumbnail like he always does when he's anxious. "You have the best care team possible," he states. "Everything is gonna be …"

"Look, I don't need you to give me a pep talk," you interrupt. "I've already made peace with it because I don't have a fucking choice. It is what it is."

"I really want to be there when you find out."

You shake your head.

"I hope you change your mind," he mumbles, searching your face which is completely devoid of expression. "I guess I'll leave now," he continues, his body language giving defeated vibes as he grabs his duffle bag and heads to the garage.

You hear the door open and close; several seconds later you finally let out the breath you'd been holding.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

[punkeropercyjackson]

Related to my prev post:

I don't give two shits if Bruce is written like a bad dad if it means we get good writing for everybody else since i think minorities are more important than a white cishet male nepotism baby unlike his butch lesbian counterpart who's judaism is an actual fundamental part of her character and since he's been written as abusive so consistently over the years it's in-character anyway

Dick can be both bi/pan and demisexual and there's more evidence for the latter than the former so making him be sexually loose is aspec erasure and mspec stereotyping and he dosen't have a thing for redheads,he has a thing for black women and to me the only guy he seems to like romantically is Roy and that adds on to his demisexuality since they're childhood best friends

'Catholic guilt Jason' is a shit headcanon that misses the major and critical part of him being Red Hood that he didn't feel the slightest bit bad about killing people and the point of his redemption was learning remorse,afrolatino Jason isn't based on stereotyping but him filling out so many black and latino cultural aspects and if any hcs for him are stereotyping it's the one that he's a slut because he's a very handsome and hot and cute goth punk man

Tim is perfect the way he is and dosen't need power ups or to get 'punished' for the oh so horrible crime of being a realistic teenage boy,he's not JUST huge a loser or a super cool dude but both at once and it's bad writing and fetishistic to ignore his wide range of relathionships that consists of mostly of women to make him a 'guys guy'

Stephanie is heavily autistic and bpd-coded so she's far from a 'normie',much less an 'it girl' but people see blonde hair and blue eyes and throw away everything else about her because that's all she's worth to them or call her an abuser and a pick me just like they do irl bpdtistic women and she's also canonically pastel/indie punk and a Team Mom but gets her presentation switched to basic and made out to be a womanchild instead

Cass had a million times more moral conflict than Jason ever did,would never in her LIFE wanna be feminine even in the chinese way and would be butch in it instead,turning her scattered speech into sign language is ableist not unlike(but not on the same level as)changing Babs' type of wheelchair disability and she'd be a better Batman than any male character in existense

Duke is only a golden child in the sense he has a yellow motif and is as disruptive and authentically quirky as his siblings,We Are Robin is a better team than the canon Outlaws,his powers are cooler than any Al-Ghul ones you could come up with,he has more femme energy than Tim does and Carrie Kelley ain't shit and only gets brought back to replace him because DC is antiblack

Damian's introduction mentality was a result of not only child abuse but also psychological grooming to get him to dehumanize himself and all his bigoted comments are explained either by him being like 12 or his writers trying to demonize brown people and anybody who thinks he's a bad person is a super-sized pissbaby with no sympathy for kids of color,shipping him with Jon is making a bisexual man into a ped0phile and Jay is good even if aging Jon up wasn't and he should be friends with Maya,Suren,Nell,Colin,Kathy,Maps,Tai and Miles,Gwen,Peni,Pavitr,Hobie and Margo from Atsv and Nico and Hazel from Pjo instead of Billy Batson or Danny Fenton or ANY Mcu characters

Talia is super hot but should be drawn in accurate arab clothes instead 'sexy assasian gear'(not that these two can't co-exist but you get what i mean),her personality is extremely rich and her stories are mega interesting,she's a good mom to Damian and literally never 'took advantage of Jason' seeing as That Scene In Lost Days was decanonized by it's writer who said it was ooc for her on his part,she should've been a mom figure to Stephanie in her Robin Days too since they would get along and she deserved her own run where she takes over Lexcorp to transform it into a force for good and become Superfam-adjacent to free herself from having only male connections

#batfam #batfanon slander #anti bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #talia al-ghul #dickkory #dickbabs #dickbea #dickhelena #dickroy #afrolatino jason supremacy #autistic stephanie brown #bpd stephanie brown #butch cassandra cain #batman!cass #trans duke thomas #autistic duke thomas #jon kent #jay nakamura #pro jonay #taliacorp #misc superfam #blasian stephanie brown #summerposting

[dairy-farmer]

I sneak back in~☆ with more of my Ideas~☆ tis me Again~

You know what's GREAT? Along with all that villian tech and magic? Canonical Multiverse. Oh my, oh my~ Such OPTIONS we have todaaaay~ >:Dc

Because? Is it really YOUR son? If he's from a different reality, has a different history, you didn't raise him, and you technically met yesterday? Same name, face, and dna... but? IS THAT YOUR SON, BATMAN?

Or is that an ethically sourced Tim Puss? Or other bits. We ain't judging, Multiverse is large and in some of those you're sentient fish! Go nuts! Just be respectful. Not on the dinner table ffs.

And! In the inevitable Bat Adventures of Various Bat Peoples(tm)? They are GOING to cross realities! Some times you go to their's, some times they come to you. Sometimes it's your hypothetical great×5 Grandbaby with a STILL alive Ra's AL Ghul. Sometimes a Robot. Occasionally they are Evil(tm).

But! Do? You? Fuck?

CAN you? These are the questions! An ethical debate for the ages! Tim says? A Strong Maybe! What is he working with, here? *various outraged noises from his family* WHAT, they aren't HIS family! It's not like he'd sleep with YOU guys. *various conflicted noises*

Like? Clearly not, if they're Evil. Or like... physically incompatible... Or the world needs saving? He DOES have his priorities straight. But like.... Strong Maybe!

But you know what that Tim has? Thousands of other NEARLY identical versions of him. Spanning the Multiverse. All juuuuust slightly off in one way or another. Different choice here. Breakfast was skipped there. Likes tea instead of energy drinks yonder. AND? All have that "someone should probably have been supervising me" Feral spark~

Tim gets Horny. Maybe he and his team pulled a successful mission. Thwarted a Multiversal threat. Wooo! We're young and unsupervised! Beer! Pizza! Making out! WITH EACH OTHER! Thank God we're not dead!!!

But thing is? Tim is a horny drunk. He is... mostly unaware of this. It's apparently just a beer thing. He doesn't like the taste so he's never really drunk them. He's giggly. Wants to fuck. Kon is already asleep. Sad face. Wait.... WAIT! He has a BRILLIANT Idea! He stumbles to his feet. To his room. Ah HA! His "I'm Looooonely~ 🥺" Sexy Photos! Perfect.

He stumbles back. Digs out the Multiverse device. His drunk little mind not stopping to consider this might be a PHENOMENALLY stupid idea. After all... His Kon asleep. Other Kon's not maybe? Sexy sex for Timmy. Mmmm, Sex. His logic, is of course, FLAWLESS. He's gonna do it!

He inputs his photos as an info package, restricts to humanoid realities, clarifies "Evil guys, DNI" because OBVIOUSLY they will honor that, and recognize they are in fact Evil, instead of Misunderstood Heros. Then adds he would like to fuck, Multiverse tech obviously required, then to REALLY seal the deal a saucy " ;) ".

It's PERFECT. He's a GENIUS. Gonna... gonna get SO LAID. He hits send. Goes to get ready for Other Kon. Forgets, gets himself off, and goes to sleep.

DOESN'T REMEMBER TO TELL ANYONE.

It goes EXACTLY as you think it does. They get fucking INVADED by randos. All of whom are thirsting for Batman's son. Many of whom ARE Batman. Some are Kon. Some Superman. There are alternative Tim's. Apparently Go Fuck Yourself is the hot new craze. Tim is super, mega, ULTRA grounded.

But it's also damn near impossible to prevent Batmen from just... stepping into whatever room he's in. From their own reality. Bruce is at his wits end. The fuckers keep fucking and trying to carry off his baby boy. He doesn't CARE if you lost your own! Or never had one! Or yours hates you! Or WHAT! UNHAND THE TIM SON! *extreme violence*

And Dick? Inches from a nervous break down. All these PERVERTS keep coming to MOLEST his brother! Including versions of HIM! Selfs! How COULD YOU!? You don't even plan to ROMANCE him! No dinner or dances or romantic dates! Just fuck him on the floor and stuff a baby in him! *incredible violence* *somewhere... Deathstroke feels weirdly thrilled... huh*

Both Jason and Damian of course are LEARNING some stuff about themselves. Mostly from beating Alt-Selfes off with whatever on hand. Damian especially is having A Time of it. How DARE himselfs make him Realize Drake Is Hot! You magnificent BASTARDS!

Jason is hearing a lot of Husband this and Babyboy that and.... you... you KINKY MOFO with your TENDER EMOTIONS need to cut this shit RIGHT OUT! So help him he will shoot you! RIGHT IN THE DICK.

And of course Kon was all *sees like a bazillion of himself show up when Tim Puss was offered* Yeah this Tracks. I understand completely. *Sees CLARKS showing up* *slow head turn of Death towards his Clark* .....Something you wanna tell me? :) Clark? :)

Lois standing on his other side, who ALSO did the Head Turn: Yeah, honey :) Something you need to get off your chest? :)

Clark, innocent but still cold sweating : Please remember that they are probably Evil. I have a LOT of messed up Alternative Selfs out there. Love you, honey. And I would NEVER.

Just? The unending parade of Multiverse Booty calls? Showing and rocking Timmy's world before he can get a word in edgewise? This poor Tim has already been caught like five times this week and it's only Wednesday? Every chases them off... but poof! New one! Fucked again! Nearly carried off while fucked out and drooling, AGAIN! The best minds on the planet scrambling to fix Timmy's drunk booty call!

He can't patrol, can barely get work down, barely has time to SLEEP. Has woken UP to being fucked by HIMSELF. And a Kon. AND three separate Bruce's. Sometimes multiples show up! Sometimes they SHARE!

Do you have ANY idea how hard it is to argue with men lovingly holding you as they make you orgasm stupid? Hard! Tim keeps LOSING! He can't even walk straight. He's GOO. Fucked out, cum stuffed, GOO.

Dear God his birth control better work or he is DEFINITELY pregnant at this point.

And? In the chaos? Tell me there isn't the chance that his actual fam don't... consider it. With so many versions of themselves popping in and out? Just add then remove an alteration to their costume... no one but them would ever know.

Just? Imagine the chaos~~☆

"ethically sourced Tim Puss" 😭😭😭😭😭 that's the funniest line i've ever read!!! and yessssss!!!!!!!!! this idea!!!!! i love it so much!!!!!!! i've absolutely mused the thought of it before!!! the idea that bruce uses the 'it's not technically incest if it's not MY tim' loophole!!!!!

tim being both a horny and stupid little drunk is so good!!! he definitely has 'lonely night' photos of himself in nothing but tiny little seee through panties and underwear or in nothing but socks and lip gloss. he sends them to kon when he's horny and wants to fuck and now he's using a multiverse outfitted computer to mass send out an email from his dimension with attatched photos like he's a pop ad from a porn site 'like his tits? fuck him today!'

the email will be easily traceable to his dimension to any kon with dimensional tech which is what tim banks on while drunk. but then tim stumbles away and forgets about his photo ladden email and open invitation to fuck. he manages to make it to his room and sloppily stuffs a few fingers into his dripping pussy and clumsily rubs at his clit until his toes are curling and he manges to drunkenly cum. it's not long before he passes out from the combination of alcohol and the bit of satisfaction from masturbating.

in the morning tim's hangover pounds against his head along with the intruder alert alarm which cuts out mere seconds after starting. it's not until he hears his bedroom door sliding open that he looks up to see kon in uniform standing at his doorway and staring at him.

tim's in a simple tshirt and no panties with his legs spread on his messy bed. kon is in full armor though...one of his older suits with the blue accents for some reason.

he's also staring at tim pretty heavily. in the sort of way he's very familiar with because tim can see that heady desire in kon's eyes and knows what's next.

the rest of the titans, kon included, find tim in his room getting wonderfully fucked by his not-kon(?).

thankfully tim gets to cum before they kick that superboy out. they brief tim about how the justice league, batcave, and other hero teams have reported disturbances and anomalies typically seen with dimensional travel and given that the titans just finished kicking some multiverse butt they should probably prepare for another...attack.

only...it seemed like that dimensional traveler had other ideas.

they go to that dimensional laptop they confiscated and very quickly find tim's original email because they are receiving hundreds of interested replies.

it's a hellish week for everyone and tim has absolutely been scolded and reprimanded numerous times. usually after each near kidnapping is avoid because tim keeps getting tracked down and fucked by different versions of horny kons, other tim's, TONS of batmen, nightwing, redhood, and robins.

other bats are typically the ones behind the kidnapping attempts. one nightwing confessed to tim while pumping his cock into tim's poor little hole that his tim hasn't spoken him in years and this was the only chance he'd ever get to forage some connection and feel tim's touch again. red hood is apparently lonely because his 'wife' is away on a space mission and those photos were so teasing and pushed him over the edge. damian apparently wants to know what teenage tim's pussy feels like. but bruce....oh bruce.

poor bruce is so lonely and tortured by the attraction he feels for his son. and then comes tim's pictures. such temptation. such willingness to be fucked by anyone and anything including his father in a different dimension and all of them have problems with their tims.

there are no tims in their dimension, they had a falling out with their tims and don't talk anymore, or their tim has passed away and left them with these horribly compex unresolved feelings and its only through fucking tim that they'll be able to finally move on with their lives.

of course some of those batmen aren't satisfied with the one time deal and attempt to abduct tim who is all woozy and half passed out from orgasms through a portal to their home dimensions.

it's a very difficult week. made more difficult by the fact that tim is clearly a willing engager with many of these different dimensional travelers invading for some pussy.

every single one of the bats is desperate to get this all fixed. the only other person aside from them who wants this all to go away is clark whose marriage and relationship with his sort of clone-son is now on the rocks because more than a few alternate supermen have shown up looking to answer tim's email and fuck his womb full of kryptonian cum. one of them even dug clark's hole even deeper by mentioning how he's curious to see if this tim drake's womb will be just as receptive to kryptonian seed as his own.

and he said it in FRONT of both kon and lois who are now both very angry with clark is so very innocent and he swears that he's never once thought of sweet little tim like that!!! in fact clark was pretty sure tim was the only one of the bats and one of the few capes that genuinely disliked him!!!!!

the fact that tim doesn't blatently reject the superman that whistle and fly past the action, their suits bulging with their erections does nothing to help clark's case.

truly if there is any victim in this entire case-aside from tim's family who are currently in the crisis working the concept of fucking tim out of their system by actually fucking tim- it is clark.

poor sweet clark who, genuinely, has done nothing wrong the entire time.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim #kontim #clarktim #dicktim #damitim #jaytim #alltim

[senjuushi]

What sex toys would ninety + your choice of which guns use if there master had a random bin full of them and encouraged the boys to get themselves off in their free time. What gun would use what and how’d they feel about it?

Ninety

He's nervous, confused, and doesn't at all know what he's doing. Ninety has never been around sex toys before, so the box is intimidating. He ends up picking the smallest, most inoffensive bullet vibrator possible, and while he'll try to follow your orders and get off, he's so clueless that his attempts mostly involve holding the vibrator to his dick while curled up in a little ball of overstimulated whimpers and twitching, to very little success.

Hachikyu

When he finds a fleshlight, it's a moment of near-panicked joy. You're seriously going to let him have this? And use it? And not take it away or punish him for it?? Once he retreats into his room with the toy, you won't be seeing him for a while. Now that he's allowed to get off, Hachikyu is going to spend a delirious few days frantically browsing hentai sites and taking full advantage of the toy you've given him. He's grateful, but also a complete mess.

Gras

He eagerly selects the most massive, intimidating, gut-rearranging dildo he can find, with a preference for an inhuman style. It's partially genuine interest and partially trying to show off, but either way, Gras will be getting plenty of use out of that thing. It turns out to be a surprisingly effective means of behavior control; wrecking himself on the mega-dildo gets enough of his excess energy out that it reduces his general aggression levels.

Fal

He spends a terrified few minutes debating if he'd be safer taking a toy or refusing altogether, and eventually decides that he'd be better off following your orders and praying it won't end in use. Fal takes the smallest thing that doesn't look like a dick, which turns out to be a slim, angled prostate massager. He won't use it unless he thinks he absolutely has to— but if he does, after a struggle to figure out how to use it, he comes so hard he passes out.

Siegblut

The order feels like some kind of insult, and Siegblut stays silently, seethingly humiliated until he's alone with the toy. He ends up picking a completely average vibrator. And even though just looking at it brings a fresh wave of shame, he'll end up using it eventually when his sex drive and desire to get off without the usual abuse win out. It's... not as bad as he'd expected. At least, so long as no one else knows enough to mock him for it.

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #Ninety #Hachikyu #Gras #Fal #Siegblut #Headcanon #Reader #Lemon

[monbitemon]

me when i combine my two biggest hyper fixations into one and plop myself in the middle :D

more drawings to come cuz i’ve been dumping all of my creative energy into this au with my bestie/roomie but here’s some basic points to hold you over on context:

prime n c137 are twin bros named Ricky and Dick respectively and are in their mid 20s

they work together at freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex cuz Ricky has terminal younger brother syndrome and has to follow Dick everywhere and copy him

cont. on that, Ricky is younger by 30 minutes and Dick forever holds this over him

Ricky and Dick work together in a back kitchen keeping the restaurant bots from messing everything up while also tinkering with machines they def shouldn’t be

Birdperson is the overworked manager of all of the restaurants in the mall and Mr. Poopybutthole is the general manager who is always scheduling team building exercises that get canceled due to low attendance

My self insert works in the daycare w/ sun and moon where Dick also hangs out for naps and escaping Ricky

Ricky is banned from the daycare

Due to the band members being a big expensive selling point, neither Ricky nor Dick are allowed to work on them or interact like all other employees (in my au)

cont. on that, the band members are considered too precious for lower level employees to be near especially during work hours

Ricky is an awful coworker but damn can that boy smoosh some sludge into a pizza

#rick and morty #five nights at freddy’s security breach #i need loser college dropout coworker romance w a young rick #the creature looming in the back #he’s conceiving ways to ruin this relationship and make Dick miserable #Ricky and Dick: My fnaf au #rick sanchez #rick prime #rick and morty au #self insert #rick sanchez x oc

[sharkgirls]

Im going with Marcille has an 18 inch, veiny, uncut, monster energy drink of a cock and Falin only tops this with her dragon dick she gets to keep. Like if you thought Ambrosia was a bad name wait til you hear what she calls her all natural mega dick. Even her nuts have names. Marcille despite her size is a massive bottom. She appears delicate but there ain’t nothing delicate about that dick of hers. Even Laios wants to look at it better it’s so impressive.

[just-about-nothing]

it’s two am and i am not sleeping again. so. casting for birds of prey: comics version

oracle played by margo gignac. this was a mega difficult decision bc i wanted barbara to be played by someone who was an actual wheelchair user + someone who looks like she could scold batman into submission. gignac fits that best i can do. i also think she has great hacking hands. i read gignac was a black belt somewhere & i think that’s great for someone playing babs too

black canary played by lindsay watson. it’s wig time babey! i specifically wanted to pick a dark haired actress because, even though dinah’s dying her hair by the time bop rolls around, i don’t forget her roots (pun totally intended). i wanted to pick someone who looked like she could kick an army’s ass and then scoop up a child & call them sister. watson fits the bill nicely. i think she has a kind face and her interviews speak to so much determination and willpower, which is the energy i want brought to dinah.

huntress played by tea falco. she’s an italian actress from sicily (like helena! who was born in the us but raised in sicily) who just has this look to her i really love, especially for bop huntress. she seems fun and beautiful and like a good teacher. i don't have a lot to say here, really. i looked at her face and went yeah that's huntress

lady blackhawk played by america ferrera. i think about zinda having a beer while huntress & canary destroy the bar & zinda walks away w the info theyre looking for. big america ferrera vibes. also i love the idea of lady blackhawk being played by an actress named america. also zinda’s hot & america ferrera’s hot i have no other notes here.

lady shiva played by lucy liu. this is the inspiration for this post and also my personal sapphic fantasy ngl. (liu is beautiful of course and i have the fattest crush on shiva lol)

right. boy time!

nightwing played by paul eryk atlas. my understanding is that atlas is a romani british actor. he's primarily played romantic leads and def looks it. i like him for nightwing bc that's basically dick's role in bop. he serves to be barbara's on again off again bf. also atlas has long hair and i'm a long hair dick supremacist (now. wigs do exist but dude got LUUUSHHH hair). (runner up: jan cina, who's just a little too ectomorphic for nightwing for my tastes. sorry dude)

ted kord played by robert buckely. i got nothing to say. buckely has a nice smile and is otherwise a white dude w brown hair. which is also what ted is. so. between a kord played by buckely and oracle played by gignac, oracle remains the powerhouse. as it should be.

robin (tim drake) played by jay lycurgo. was titans supposed to be awful? yes. did i see lycurgo get cast and go DAMN THAT'S TIM. yes. he has that look in his face. that's all. also i saw him in the bastard child devil show on netflix and he gave off THEE BIGGEST tim drake energy there. i was very impressed. (runner up: david mazouz just for the lols).

batman played by robert pattinson. sue me i liked the batman 2022. no notes.

#i rant #birds of prey #dc #fancast #lmk what ppl's thoughts are??? #barbara gordon #helena bertinelli #dinah lance #zinda blake #lady shiva

[btnclmrttn]

Hellloooo! Are you still taking requests? :O if you are, can i pleaaase have saitama with a doctor s/o please? 🙉🙊🙈

Yes Yes Yes! I've been waiting for an ask like this! I'll ll do my best, but I'm only a nursing assistant lol. Only thing I can tell you about doctors is that they're usually insufferable pains in the ass working with. But that's for another discussion I hope you like it sorry it's long

Doctor S/O HCs

~~~~

It's a miracle how you guys managed to meet considering your schedules but luck have it he liked you enough to find you again

(I'd say you were standing in line in front of him and managed to get hundreds of dollars worth of groceries reduced to like $80. He wants in on that witchcraft)

He admires you so much by the work you do, and is almost intimidated how you can crunch in those long hours.

Always trying to stuff you up with little healthy snacks after you told him sometimes you guys don't have time to sit and eat.

Days off are always the best together. You got used to constantly be running errands on your day off and he helped you learn to chill out and not worry about everything the second you get free time

Lots of tub time together for your sore ass

He's always a sad egg when you get mandated. If it's too long you'll come home to him basically sitting at the door like a puppy. He misses you on the main just isn't aware of it.

If you're having the classic nerve pain or feet n ankles mega ouch he will NOT let you be up on them. He says you should rest as hard as you work.

Any medicine or cream you use for it he likes giving to you, like he's playing doctor

So that's where the househusband energy comes in. He's doing everything he can for you. His kind of lazy is bare minimum lazy, not total slack off. He'll do it for you

He's on your ASS about stretching. ALL THE TIME

He will message you sometimes but if it's a nerve problem it don't help at all for some people

Once you explain a handful of terminology he'll actually be interested in you work ramblings. There isn't ever a boring day, especially with dick bag coworkers

This fool will look downright mortified if you get talking about the not so fun part of the job. Not necessarily the deaths or gore, but the body waste hazards. Don't tell him till AFTER he's eaten any meal or it will ruin the whole appetite

He still listens even if it's gross. Why you chose this life, he'll never know

The job itself is painfully sad, most of the time. Usually everyone's too busy to have a minute to process most things. So if a well loved patient ends up dying, he'll try and be there for you

Literally had no idea what to do but let you just cry it all out while holding you. He'll barely say anything cause he just has no idea how you handle it as well as you do

Every now and then you'll see him in a window waving at you if he's in monster battle ground. The hospital never stops no matter what the warning is so you can get front row seats sometimes

He got knocked into the hospital one time and was like "oh hey hun" before hopping back into battle

You don't really have to ever patch him up after some fight but sometimes his friends that tag along are a different story. He'll be just showing you off and telling everyone what a good job you do as you're trying to stop some bleeding or some shit

Always boasting but he isn't aware of it, tbh

Be like "My partner, a doctor btw-"

When he explained how he lost his hair, you joked about it being alopecia. Now he's just contemplating his life and if it really wasn't hard work, just weird timing.

Because of how much you make, sometimes you take him out on a little bit more expensive dates, or get him really nice gifts.

He loves you but he hates it. The fact you have more money he can make in months is flabbergasting. Don't do this to him when you first meet it will scare him away

He's just grateful someone so smart and caring like you loves him. Ask him, and you're out of his league. He's a lucky mfr

#anime #one punch man #opm #opm x reader #saitama #saitama hcs #saitama x reader #saitama/reader #saitama x y/n #doctor reader #reader is inaccurate i hate doctors #prestigious pricks #nurses be real ones #sometimes #opm headcanons #genos #speed o sound sonic #Garou

[irlstein]

I Wanna Suck Maya Kamina's Big Fat Tits

Fast rundown for men with wives and wives with men: I took most of a year off to recover from late-stage Twitter intolerance that I'm pretty sure was giving my blood some sort of pH poisoning, I hope you guys have been doing well and apologize for the lack of communication.

Slow Rundown For True Jackheads - Much Longer Than It Has To Be, You Can Just Say Jack Was Taking Care Of Family And Had A Breakdown:

Howdy guys, been a few months. Had a lot happen in this last year - when I took my break, I'd begun watching my Uncle Gary on a daily basis, who is a stroke survivor left unfortunately incapable of complex speech, and with no strength in his left side. My Uncle Gary and I didn't have much of a relationship before this, but I'd taken on the task of moving into his trailer while he was recovering at his sister's - she lives just in town, it's a ten minute drive, but there was no feasible way for him to get in and out of his own house - for about two years. In that time I'd basically had a deal going with the family that I'd watch Uncle Gary for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, once he had the lift installed at his home that would let him come and go without too much hassle. I'd clean his trailer up for him, because he was a mega-bachelor with three girlfriends and so much backed-up old food from habitual boredom shopping that the place was a damn mess, bugs and rats in the back of the cupboards shit, and they'd disregard the bump in utilities to having someone actually in the house because I'd also keep the place from getting robbed, as he had a bunch of guns and gun parts stored there. It was a pretty fair deal for everyone involved, and while I really only stayed there about 2/3 of the time, it was enough that I really couldn't justify bouncing if the dude needed me, and I've been watching disabled family pretty much daily for 5 years now - so it seemed like a small life change.

Then COVID hit and the three months I was gonna be at his house, as stated prior, ballooned out to about two years, and at some point there began to be some sentiment that Uncle Gary was now annoyed by the idea of living with me - despite me being a patently temporary tenant there for his benefit, with literally two other homes in walking distance I could be living at, as I've got a lot of family in town. I could also get an apartment or something, you get the idea, I just wasn't actually enthused to be there and it was pretty inconsiderate to turn my very blatantly and clearly elaborated, regularly checked upon for the comfort of all concerned, act of well-meaning against me. My grandpa died when I was 5, Uncle Gary's brother, and everyone always talks about how much my grandpa loved me, so it seemed natural I'd just do whatever his brother needed when he was in a time of need.

From there, thing got sour for a while - we never came to blows, only really argued once or twice, but my Uncle Gary's obvious ennui at his turn in health had bluntly made him kind of an ungrateful dick to everyone. Now, let me state here - I stayed with and watched him for about six months following when he came home. It just grew more and more difficult to bear with the situation as I'd talk to him, interpret for him, make him whatever he wanted for dinner, crack jokes, fix computer problems, invest all of my daily energy into making him comfortable - and caught him talking shit on me behind my back. Little stuff - "So Jack's a good cook?" "Ehhhhhh." "Jack's taking good care of you huh? Your blood sugar's been good all week." "Ah well," little shit like that, negging on top of a totally unpaid position I'd volunteered for on the very day he went to the hospital because I'd spent the ages of 22 - 24 watching my mom as she recovered from a real bad car accident and since I've always made money online, it just seemed natural to volunteer my maid services the moment someone else in the family needed the same kind of health.

But fuck, man. It really hurt to be treated how he treated me, because there was contempt there. He was always cool to his sister, my great Aunt, who I visited every week with my grandma to do chores for because she and her husband are, themselves, old and disabled - replaced her kitchen ceiling, watched her dogs, lawnwork, cooking, whatever they needed I would insist upon doing, so there was infinite evidence in supply that I was not a malicious opportunist here, just a younger relative trying to help everyone he could. Uncle Gary didn't give a fuck, he snapped at me, basically laughed at people who suggested he should pay me for my time, and the family dawdled on the job of hiring home healthcare for so long that it looked like I was really expected to just stay there and keep doing this.

And honestly, I kind of flattened. I've always been a depressed guy, chronic nightmares do that to you, and it's easier to crumple to your circumstances than it is to challenge them when challenging them means telling a crippled relative who sees you as a leech that he'll need another 24/7 cook and care provider. I started sleeping all day until he called on me; I developed a nervous tic whenever I heard his walker because that meant he was gonna walk past my bedroom door, glance in skeptically, and call me out for another task I'd have to spend ten minutes guessing and interpreting to understand, because (No fault of his) the guy could basically only give very general positive or negative affirmations, and got very angry very quickly when misinterpreted. So I sort of just stopped thinking about the future and wallowed in this cold trailer, uncomfortable all day, talking to my friends less and working less, just getting more cold and static and dead as the days went on. Let me be clear, I'm not "the true victim" in this discussion about a dude who had a stroke, but I am a mentally soft dude who didn't have a lot of happy feelings to draw on and could easily be bullied by circumstance into shutting down; I did.

Then Rachele, the lady who came to clean up Uncle Gary's apartment, started working for him to do basically my job, and I made plans to leave. And they got a home healthcare service going, got another lady to fill in some of the time Rachele couldn't be there for, and things were on an incline, life was getting normal and I was getting my head straight again.

Then my grandma nearly died of a heart attack when we came home from a family reunion. She was carrying KayKay, her granddaughter, into the house, and suddenly started sweating and groaning in pain. I knew something had happened, her doctor had told her not to carry anythign heavy and KayKay was nearly half her size because my grandma's such a small lady. Specifically, something happened that dumped a bunch of blood into her intestines, and she needed a triple bypass. That was a really hard night; my grandma, already in her 70s, had a major injury, but for hours she denied it. I sat there with her in her living room, watching my Uncle Pete's daughter, as she just lay on the couch and insisted that she just needed to rest. I checked her blood pressure - again and again, a dozen times, always going down. I reminded her that it's not normal to feel sudden, agonizing pain in your stomach when you lift a toddler, followed by going pale and losing massive blood pressure. "I just need some salt," she said. "That blood pressure reader is always wrong, must be the batteries," she muttered a dozen times in that span, clearly growing delerious. I ran to Uncle Gary's and grabbed his blood pressure cuff, and the results were even worse, and she still shrugged it off. I sat there with her for three hours, pestering her, threatening to call an ambulance and being shut down, until I finally called her daughter, who happened to be a nurse and long-time hospital worker. Finally, at her daughter's terrified reaction at her mother clearly ignoring a fatal wound, grandma agreed to go to the hospital.

And I was just sitting there for the rest of the night, with this little kid who didn't know me. Trying to keep her from crying, calling everyone I could to spread the news, sweaty and cold and just scared that it was all starting over again, that the relentless years of awful shit just happening to me and my family had never ended, this sense that there was a cosmic bullseye on my scrote I'd dealt with in silence since my childhood reaching critical terror as it was now fucking killing people in front of me. I'm superstitious; at times, I become inclined to believe I'm living in hell. But in hell, you're not there to save your grandma, and in hell, kids are a lot more rude than sweet little KayKay; read her a few stories and put on Miraculous Ladybug, and she chilled out.

Then the fucking waiting game started over, because grandma had significant plaque build-up in her arteries, whatever those important ones in the sides of your neck are, and couldn't even have her heart surgery until that was taken care of. She was in there for weeks, and once she did get the triple bypass, she was in there for even longer, and all of her recovery was just above touch-and-go - still is, technically, that's a major surgery and it takes a long time to actually heal from at her age. For the sake of what timeline I can remember, my ability to recall events in order is a little compromised by the bad sleep, this began about a week after I posted that Joe Biden meme. That was attempt #3 or so to come back, and I remember I'd been in a really good mood about it. There were other problems, mostly drugs in the family, but until that point I really thought we'd all been improving and life was finally just getting better.

With that I moved out, having been asked to watch her trailer - though I'd bet it was clear to everyone that I was just miserable at Uncle Gary's but unwilling to leave, and this was a convenient opportunity to force me to make a positive change. Grandma's a real good lady, nobody in town would get away with robbing her, but she insisted I bring my stuff over and watch the place until she could come home - she left for Alabama so her daughter's family could keep her under close observation, a very good decision given she was stubborn enough that she'd probably try mowing the lawn the very day she came home. And so for a few months I stayed there, mostly on the incline, working every day and trying to build good habits. I started walking a few miles a day, lost a lot of weight, and again, things were on the incline. I moved to my Uncle Pete's next door, got a real living arrangement figured out with my own space and my own contributions to the upkeep of the household, and things were on the incline. In-between, I lost a lot of my time filling in for Rachele as she watched dogs, going back to Uncle Gary's for a few weeks at a time and filling in about three nights a week - still gratis, though I was filling in for paid employees - on the average week, because he was my neighbor and Rachele had other obligations. I do not mean to imply anyone abused my sympathy; merely that I was unwilling to admit that my sympathy was increasingly costing me and I foolishly ignored the simply reality that this was keeping my life from going forward, that there were other options for them and that I really didn't need to invest all of my spare time into watching a guy who had genuinely shown me reproach and treated me like an unwanted little boy for trying to take care of him. Full credit, Uncle Gary's gotten better since then and clearly regrets having pushed many people away, myself merely a single example among most of his friends and family, and the constant understanding that his suffering was worse than mine just made it impossible for me to take my own priorities seriously. Improvement. Still, overall, improvement, and I was feeling good. I started making daily projects and completing tasks at a rapid pace, all of my time filled, nothing to do besides do for myself and for others. It was honestly really good, the last four months or so kept me in no state to return to socializing, but I was doing well enough that I'd be back eventually, I knew it.

Then the night terrors came. This is a recent problem, started about two months ago - see, I use a bit of Delta-8 here and there. I inherited pretty severe anhedonia from my mom, who smoked weed her whole life and will again when she can, and so to be blunt - heh, I didn't know food tasted good. I mean, until the first time I had about 10mg in my system, I didn't realize what my problem actually was - constant, cold, painful stress feedback in my head. Like body-level anxiety in my brain that never goes away. And the first time I ate food with a mild buzz, I got the best news I'd had in my entie life -

People weren't lying. Life could feel good. On a very real level, from childhood to mid-20's, I had never experienced pleasure on a level you would describe as noticeable, and with the regular migraines and nightmares, my perception of existence really was based entirely upon a paradigm of suffering through, until some small miracle convinced me to keep living. I used to look forward to the bad headaches, because they'd make me sweat, raise my heart rate, and force enough of an adrenalin reaction that I felt smooth and calm afterwards. I really had gone twenty-plus years assuming people lied about how good it could feel to be able to feel good things, thought it was an act of nihilistic denial to keep us all from committing to mutual suicide in a world where you can count on hurting any time but there's just no equivalent joyful inverse to a bad headache. This began near the last 4 months of me watching my Uncle Gary, and let me be clear, I wasn't spending all day stoned - in general, I had this very severe pro-lucidity rationale going from childhood, because my grandpa died of lung cancer and that tied a permanent sort of trauma to cigarettes, thus drugs in general, into my reasoning. But I did make a big mistake - I got too used to spending my time buzzed.

You see, when you're like me, your dopamine levels are naturally very low regardless of your health. But you have no basis of reference, because your entire life goes like this - you never really believe you're depressed, because you have no basis of reference. Or rather, your basis of reference is between "buffer" and "misery" - misery is always going to happen, but if you've got a buffer, like YouTube videos, good porn, something funny to watch, you can raise your heartrate a bit and go a whole day without a breakdown. You can force a sliver of resistance between yourself and this moment of collapse you can always feel on the horizon, and you convince yourself that everyone uses the internet to cope and that you're just a darker shade of normal.

But when you're like me, you don't get a reprieve from your own biology. Your ability to feel good is permanently subnatural - you've got a 20% debuff to being alive, and rest never makes you feel better. You're the kind of person who, despite not being a schizophrenic, could potentially fall out of reality in an act of severe pessimistic paranoia so intense that it starts to break how you think, all the while acting normal enough that nobody really notices you.

That's what happened - my theory is, months of improved dopamine output made me lax, made me forget that you don't just fix what my problem is by feeling good enough for long enough that you fix your head. Oh the philosophical problems work themselves out that way, I finally accepted that I should find a girl and start a family, move from hobby comedian to someone who really tries to help people, but in all that time your real buffer is depleting. You forget that so much of your enjoyment comes from the context of a decade solid of suffering, and for reasons as spiritual as biological, you start to lose appreciation for being. Yes, I surely thought, this was it, I found proof that life is worth living, I'll never break again, it's all good from here on out. No, what you do is actually reduce your body's dopamine sensitivity by a lot, and lose enough weight to get your energy back, meaning you feel just a bit manic during your active hours, and again, your guard drops. It's all good from here, you found the SECRET dude, there really is good in life, you can abandon the watchhound complex and treat the world like a place that's glad to have you. You're not just here to be someone else's buffer, you're part of history, born at the first age of prosperity in which a man might actually become immortal and live in space.

Then your first apocalpyse nightmare hits. Like every nightmare, it starts off as a dream and decomposes - you're around old classmates, happy to see them. And random explosions begin going off around the city - someone next to you dies, and you've already forgotten her face. You look at the cityscape and a massive spaceship shaped like a flaming steel crown crashes into the atmosphere and stops just above the buildings, the shockwave of its passage feeling completely and utterly real. You wake up, and the numbness you feel in your sleep abates, so the horror hits you. It's 2PM and you get over it; you always have nightmares when you sleep too late.

Then the next - you're at the pool and someone steps on some moldy-green crystals growing on the damp concrete. They pierce her foot at the heel, and spread oily-black corruption under her skin. In your mind, you know it's a fungus somehow, that it'll grow inside of her and kill her, something like Splinter for those of you who've seen that old Syfy original film. You wander around, everyone you see is family or a friend, and they're all murmuring that it's growing everywhere, people getting little jabs here and there, it's practically unavoidable. There's an abstract diversion - you're running through a yard and some old Green Day track is playing, a blonde woman dressed up as a cheerleader and she just makes you feel weird and uncomfortable because she's poking out of the side of a shed, and you've never had a good dream, so seeing pretty women never goes anywhere. Then you pass through the fence and see an old black woman, somebody's mother or grandma or favorite teacher, and you know months have passed - the crystalline mold, whatever it is, is poking out of her face and joints. She's still alive, walking down the road with a walker, and you realize with terror that this would only happen in a world where people have accepted it - the mold is going to kill us all, and walking down the street riddled like a fucking pincushion is just a trivial aspect of everyday life in the latter hours of mankind. You saw it begin, and it's already fucking over, and you barely had a moment to want to try to stop it. Then she's dancing in front of a camera, pirouetting like a ballerina, totally consumed by sharp growths as onlookers watch her in amazement, more possessed by interest in the utter ruination and decay and whatever entertainment it can offer them than trying to survive. Mankind is now living in an era of having accepted their deaths, but in the most disgusting and reprehensible manner possible, seeing the decay as merely another aspect of their media diets, TikTok in the final second of every family's history. They didn't try hard enough, and now they're indulging in the decay.

You wake up and you're hit by a TIDAL WAVE - a thought strikes you off-balance in the distance between cognitive reality and awareness, screaming ALL LIFE IS MERELY THE RESULT OF CIRCUMSTANCE WHICH HAS LEFT IT UNALTERED, Cthulhu screaming empty materialist philosophy that you can already feel is wrong. No it's not; life is adaptive, either arising naturally from worlds devoid of life or being designed by things which were already alive to have done so, the animating force of reality already being intrinsic. We are not merely mathematical outcomes aggregating across successes, were are aware and experiential, we feel disgusted moreso than afraid of descriptions which reduce us to processes because it's paramountly deluded to pretend life isn't aware and full of intent. Life FIGHTS - life is not merely outcomes, as outcomes are merely observation, an artifical description of reality reduced to verbal description to the same degree that the word Earth describes a literal location and leaves out infinite amounts of data provably unrecorded by and unaccounted for in the description. Further, mathematics are often used to defuse romantic thought, but math is merely patterns within observability - to believe everything is math is ridiculous because math is an emotionally neutered descriptor of forces, not the source of forces. Math exists because reality persists, reality does not persist because of the observable patterns we've divorced from emotion and called math, which is a stupid fucking philosophical trap for us to wander into by-the-way and causes problems every day for people with existential fears. It's not that the sentiment was philosophically superior and overwhelmed my beliefs, but that it hit me just as I was senseless, a tactically calculated malice with no intention but to disable with steep fear, leaving you at the bottom of a frozen whirlpool.

And so that's where I was. For weeks. Every answer I came up with was met with temporary success and then the return of the whirlpool - I say "Life is valuable because it unalterably exists, no one can declare it does not affect reality materially and thus have significance; claiming it is insignificant is like claiming concrete is insignificant." And that puts the fear on pause. Then, the next day, another nigthmare as you awaken - you're above the universe and looking too far, in every direction, disenchanted and terrified because on some irrational level you assume that there being what we assume are consistent patterns means there's an upper floor caging in reality's value, only so many things to do. You imagine the immense fucking scale of not just our galaxy but others, and for the first time, it comforts you - we haven't even seen the core of the Earth. This argument is bullshit; a reality not woven with consistency at some level is pure chaos, and insignificance abounds where nothing persists. Indeed, it's infinitely more arguable than the opposite to say that a reality with a great degree of predictability is valuable to us, as it allows us to gain power merely through understanding, while our bodies could never meet the task of raising us to a great status during our lives because evolution simply moves very slowly; everyone has the hope of seeing the world change for the better, in all of their lives, because this world has traction, and rules we somehow are not born with an understanding of despite being born from it, but can embrace the minutiae of and develop a place in reality through. Knowledge is beautiful; abandoning sentiment is the highest curse. You know this is the case. You've stabbed the Devil in the stomach and retained your self.

But it keeps coming back, merely restating itself. Never presenting a cogent argument, because this is not a demon, this is you, this is you stuck in a decay cycle in all of your emotional attachments as you no longer have THC in your system and feel cold doubt that all the warmth and love you've come to recognize in the world might betray you and be baseless, vibrations upon ash. This is stupid; that things with individuality, capable of both deferring and embracing life, exist shows that reality itself is not dead but very active, you do not fear dying because you become nothing, but because you prize you. Sentiment and selfishness and the beauty of self-sacrifice, things that require an ounce of impractical irrationality, exist, and you are not an ant. If it was all just for outcomes, you would be an ant - a hollow box that notices nothing. There is no need for emotional prongs to guide a being with no free will; that you observe is already an evolutionary indulgence, and that you do not live for the pack is an inherent compromise upon the endpoint of human survivability. You are not an educated man, but even the barest pop science reveals to you that reality is vulnerable, but vital - we are only at the barest edge of intellectual awareness, but already so vibrantly different from what and how we could be. It doesn't matter that there's no floor to outer space, that you are tiny, because the stories all happen here, on the worlds - you already exist upon the stage of history, and your value is not up for discussion, merely enrichment. Cthulhu can suck your fucking cock; it would feel good and make him embarrassed, things far beyond outcomes aggregating blindly. You have discovered an iron-hard belief now in the soul, in the value of the future, and for the first time in your life you feel as if your presence in the world has boots on, settled firmly upon the floor of reality - it isn't that there's an argument for the value of your life, of reality.

It's that there's nothing but arguments, and every argument against it merely beggars a HIGHER source of authority, a god or a theoretical image of a a totally benevolent existence with no demands upon you. Things already of value; you know this pain is delusional, because every nihilistic argument merely begs for proof, for permission to be. Merely for an iron-hard belief in the soul and boots upon the concrete floor of reality's value, something finally strong enough to argue against the dread paranoia experienced by those in a state of being. From this unromantic perspective, you are already a dreadfully complicated argument against their sentiment that everything in reality being element-generating balls of light held together by impossible forces that become irrational on the micro scale means we're somehow valueless, trapped in a world without value; even if this were the lesser of all realities, it is enough to be. Even if this were Hell, it would be made with the beauty of Earth in mind. The void is defeated, for it is not a void at all, merely your fear of surprise when held against the terrifying infinity of cosmic circumstance. Your boots are on the floor of the world. You are already alive. Whether your name is Jack or not, this argument applies - you are already alive. You are already enough reason to continue being, and build a future where such questions are defeated, where children you will never know live insulated from the nightmare of skepticism. And if the future doesn't matter to you, sex and food and great and don't even have to be good for you, and experience makes its own compelling arguments. It is not so hard, in the rearview mirror of a psychic breakdown, to realize you really could be so privileged as to be God's children. And if you aren't, there's still an infinite ladder to climb, and if there's a roof above it, then maybe it's high enough; maybe there's a way above it without losing our humanity. Don't we live a day at a time? Don't we have time enough to try? Are our hands really being forced by cosmic circumstance when at any moment we can blissfully defer our duty? In all the nightmares of philosophy, the most terrifying is merely that being is sentimentless, devoid of higher value - and if it were somehow true, look at all these miracles born of a dead world. What conceit has doubt the proof has not already been rendered against? None; it is but an impure visitor to your thoughts. You are already alive.

You have about 400 arguments like this that eventually reach into the prosaic, all day, every day for weeks. When you wake up, when you sleep - especially when you catch yourself in a good mood. The niggling chases you down, because the sheer realization of pleasure brings back that terror of it all being somehow artificial, and artificial in this arbitrary sense, where construction alone is not somehow proof of sufficient outcome to justify being. It's the scariest thought imaginable, nihilism on an absolute scale, for someone who only just discovered pleasant contentment and really thought his life was on a permanent incline. The arguments weave together perfectly for a reason; the terror of this thought is that it is illogical, but maliciously illogical. It is stupid, and above all else, stupid with the confidence to bowl over someone who had 1000 incursions upon his comfort this week. The enemy force does not need to be right if they outnumber you sufficiently; they must merely be present. This enemy is nothing more complex or elemental than the fact that in the absence of joy, we become stupid, we lose capacities for higher thought that are required to recite and appreciate thoughts that are abstract and meaningful at once. Anyone with anxiety can tell you this; anxious thoughts do not survive because they are undeniable, but because in a state of fear, adversary presence becomes undeniable. You functionally can't believe good things anymore, and that's the true monster; it steals your faith, leech-like, an ounce a day.

Beyond this point I delve into some existential argumentation that I fought off twelve varities of PTSD for; you don't need to read beyond this point unless existential argumentation is something you need, and a weapon against the shades of being would fit nicely in your palm. Know this: All of my arguments hereon are built upon your ability to disagree, and I merely ask that if you do, that you value yourself enough to live happily.

It must be said that it is cosmically significant that humans are sturdy-willed enough to both survive this and make memes about it. It is not a minor problem; it is a quiet apocalpyse that we slowly observe, and lose the faith to fight. It is an inferior opponent, but it has nothing to lose, and will always return to lose again, because it really only has so many opportunities to convince you and you will eventually overcome it - but it has nothing but opportunities when its appearance is rooted at the deepest levels of experiencing life. I was given a phobia of being, a phobia of unbeing, and something greater between the two - the fear that either were playing into another's hands, a perfect trinity cage where every option existent meant I was prompted with fear yet again, hopelessness, an endless attack upon my sanity.

It must be said that it is cosmically significant that a man as paramountly unimpressive as myself could survive a trinity of discussion and return to tell you, neither dead nor mad. If this world is a fight between mankind and our reason to exist, then we have already won, and the enemy hates us for it. I am not an educated man, I do not have the benefits of faith, I have no lover and few close friends who I truly do not share my pain with, for my greatest fear is spawning a predatory thought and inflicting it upon another, mental HIV paramountly treatable in the long-term but in the short-term, crippling to your survival. I felt that I could only unreasonably risk others by discussing this until I have answers.

Pardon the prosaic, as it spills from my mouth without permission when high spirits are present, but I must say:

I think it's a weak-ass threat from someone without a gun big enough to scare me when you resort to trying to convince someone who exists that on an abstract and unreasonable playing field born not of rational observation, but sheer negativity, that he doesn't exist enough. You don't spend much time threatening to kill imaginary friends. You want to know why nihilism is stupid? Because it's just you arguing with yourself for your own permission to exist. And if it's not, if on some deeper level there's a maliciousness in the world trying to displace you, then it's funny as hell as an insult to survive and have a good time. In any world with frivolity, you are not a slave to circumstance; in any world with purpose, you are not a slave to experience. Life is hard, and that makes us vulnerable, but it's the easiest it's every been, and we need to stop letting that make us vulneralbe. For my bit, even if my life was worthless, I'd insist that my grandma's isn't - my Uncle's isn't, my mom's isn't, yours isn't, and I don't give a fuck how complex or nuanced of an argument someone presents when arguing otherwise. A weaponized argument is essentially a mechanism, a tool made of information, and you don't argue that someone has the moral metaphysical victory for showing up to a fight with a gun; you observe that they prepared with malicious intent, and probably shouldn't be trusted merely for their competency in the act of needless murder. As a rule, when you can tell a thought is trying to drive you insane, that means it isn't on your side, and that doesn't necessarily mean you can displace it by will alone - but for everyone out there with anxiety, with issues like mine, people who are desensitized by decades of bad habits and bad life stories - you need to know that you've forgotten more than you remember. Being happy doesn't make you stupid, it lets you appreciate things, and on a functional level is not an undignified level of stooped intelligence, but rather the gate between you and all the thoughts you need in order to remember to live. Even emotional compartmentalization is not an argument against spiritualistic, experiential value; this world survives because it has consistent rules, which means it's a benefit to you when any aspect of your existence has practical value, and denigrating it thusly as unremarkable because it has practical value does carry the unprovable, dismissive assertion that things with practical value somehow have novalue, a totally arbitrary state of emptiness of being that only exists because you find the notion resentful of being. It's stupid, literally a lack of context and understanding, a strict degradation of the ability to think that corners and harasses you, not a chilling moment of existential awareness. You're not hiding from some grim answer; you're being pushed away from the many answers already within existence. You're caught off-guard by a question children are wise enough not to bother to ask, and it still bother you, because you already value, and that is enough for the question of value.

So if it's unclear, I went from a stressful year and a mild Delta-8 dependency to a sort of existential spiral marked by, above all things, my own chronic pessimism and genuine inexperience with life. If I had more scientific knowledge, I know I could have argued this better; wave-particle duality already makes reality too bizarre to not have faith in investigating. And if I'd had a girlfriend, or just enough pride to admit that I was suffering to people instead of seeing it as a contemptible weakness upon my own insignificant person, most of these could have again been resolved out of hand. I mean, if you want a clue, reality builds outward - particles bond in adjacency, meaning next to eachother, not in a vertical stack that suggests there's some sort of bottom level to existence where you need to argue philosophical value comes from. Expand that philosophically outward, and even materialists must argue that reality believes value comes from attachment, structure obeys this, and that it is therefore significant that you can not only choose what you are attached to but can choose to be disattached at all. Again, you're not an ant, a nihil engine repurposing scraps; you're on the bottom floor of divinity itself, staring up at the stars, things infinity times infinity bigger than you, and you know what we say?

"We could cage them someday."

Now personally, I'd argue that stars are somehow sacred, and imagining them as something we could bind in a Dyson Sphere is a bit like saying you can bottle sex and water flowers with it; on a scientific level, fucking maybe, but it's arbitrary and crass and irreverent and weird. But we have arrogance and fear both, neither forced to progress, nor disincentivized from it, neither forced to decay - beyond our already remarkable resistance to age by the standards of life as we understand it, something we always take for granted - nor disincentivized from it. You can decide nothing matters right now, and a fifth of vodka and bong will still feel good enough for you to keep going, without any of it intrinsically conscripting you into some passage of cosmic evolution. The very argument that these feelings are meaningless first presupposes they need further value, and is driven by the quiet acknowledgement that it would be nice to be doing something permanent with your time. You are something so rare in the universe; a material thing with non-material values, cognition and persistence, caught between two intrinsic natures of being that work best when accepted together. We are not formless passing thoughts, and this is good, for it allows us significance; we are not shackled to the structure of being alone, and this is good, for it allows us the bizarre act of attributing significance and denigrating it within a framework we assume to be spiritless and hard rational, cruel gravity and promising heat, which at least suggest that it is likely not hard rational and spiritless at all. Has it ever struck you how comforting the notion is, and how common it is among cultures, that the universe is simply alive? How irrational the alternative seems on its face? I've been beaten to death with a brick of ice, poetically speaking, for the past two weeks, and it still warms me up. Even without feeling hope, it gives me some comfort so intrinsic that I cannot escape it, and upward from this merest of faiths you can again build a framework of optimistic meaning. No, you'll never lose the ability to fear, and thereby undermine your own confidence, but when not unprompted fear has its own purpose in pushing us out of comfort. It, too, is merely trying to keep us alive - and none of us live healthy lives anymore. Waging a permanent war against our own cognitive value, we seek to replace everything with material satisfaction, and as Nietszche saw coming but was too German to clearly describe, something fundamental to our nature decays and reveals that we always existed in a way more complex than we appreciated. And again, all we must merely accept is that it's fair to argue our current modus of being is enough, and that the only path towards growing more complex and further from arguments of meaninglessness is to enjoy one another's company and keep trying to improve the world, for the snarling hound of pernicious fear to lean back, drooling, vicious but now afraid on its own terms. When your mood shifts, and you can accept good things again, you'll often notice that there were weird irrationalities to your thinking keeping you in that space, but these are arguments for when your mood doesn't shift. These are arguments against the pernicious death of a soul that has found no faith; hard, bitter arguments for when simply stating that fat tits are really, really nice has insanely somehow become unfitting as a response to questions of why you should wake up tomorrow.

I get that this is all a lot, basically a combination of short-term autobiograpy and philosophical debate against my own anxieties, but we all know why we're becoming like this; we're becoming bad custodians of tomorrow. The beautiful future where we've solved it all, where everyone truly gets to choose their own meaning? It doesn't come from Twitter fights, to jerking off on IMhentai to increasingly degenerate shit that makes you feel less and less, or taking pills that literally specifically defuse your ability to feel bothered by real material issues you'd be able to take care of if you had lucidity and an ounce or so of emotional support. We're decaying, not all of humanity, but many of us, and we're passing rotten blood to the children, expecting them to raise themselves in digital hell and shrugging off the responsibility of giving a damn because kek, zoomers are weird, haha look this one has my politics, I'll clean my room tomorrow and pretend I haven't said that 34 times.

If there is a spirit to reality, something divine and good, then I see all of this as a warning - not a divine missive to me, I'm just some sad dude who some people find funny or at least odd enough for the value of spectacle, mental illness and circumstance have kept me from setting down roots and I'm no one of greater circumstance than you. This isn't a messiah complex, but merely a simple missionary suggestion:

We should stop pissing on the future everyone is growing crops on. We should take dire insult to fucking corporations dictating morality to real people as if we're too stupid to note their profit incentive in seeming moral at a glance and culturing an artificial state of morality that exists entirely within their pocket and for their bottom line. We should work to save the bodies our ancestors, back to the dawn of time, historically critical sea sponges all the way up to war heroes and murderers and people without note who still survive because we are here, gifted to us in the actuation of our birth. We should really, really be fucking working towards immortality and space travel right now, and instead we let individual companies own the global food supply and governments full of sexual predators push us into becoming murderous radicals so we can be safely contained and dismissed. Elon sent a fucking car into space; we probably have the accumulated global resources to break atmosphere and become an interplanetary race, and it's insane that we're not uniformly optimistic and planning for the benefits of that. It matters much, much more than the fact that Joe Biden is doofy and TikTok is being used to screw with culture, because none of this process is automatic. You can affect local political change, in sufficient numbers corruption is undeniable and will be overturned; you can guide the youth away from drug addiction and digital dependence which will eventually render them incapable of asserting their own will and having the freedom to choose how they live among multiple other options. The enemy of progress is merely the sapper, that is to say, the conspiratorial fear that your decisions do not matter. You are making them; they already matter. They influence reality, materially, and yourself, materially and immaterially; they already matter. And yes, if everyone got off their asses and showed the kids they were loved and being led down a bad path, more would be saved than none. Think of what you needed to hear at their age and let them know it, and become someone they can talk to when it feels like only porn and weed are there for them. We have no idea what it's like to be born in the internet's maw; I am 27, I aged with the internet, I'm inured to it to some degree and it still harms me. Most of these kids literally have no conception of reality where the world isn't just the bottom floor of the internet. Stop leaving them alone with their worst thoughts, no matter what it costs you in the moment, because not every effort matters in the sense that it yields provable results - but it all adds up. The world remembers what you do, remember? Leaves traces and evidence of your every mild action. Work against what you know is evil, and it will add up. That is one of the grim truths we have the best chance to use in our favor; we can't choose to not matter, merely to not matter to ourselves, and it isn't as simple as a concrete equation which of these creates the best results. The world is scary because it's up to you; the world is wonderful because it needs you but can't actually force you to help.

I don't have all of the answer but at the end of this, here are a few proofs against nihil insistence that I've personally found profoundly effective; use them if you ever need them and don't regard my gibbering as beneath consequence, because I do think some of these have something going for them. None of them are complete, because you functionally can't make a perfect argument for the state of reality without stating all of reality, but these are good foundation for arguments that are very hard to find beaten even when you're being beaten down, because they address the underpinnings of nihilistic anxiety. And if nothing else moves the needle, I want you to know that you do matter to me.

General Roots For Argumentation:

I: You exist in some sense apart from reality, which means that even if reality had no value, you can find value in it. You have sensation and can pursue it as you wish, meaning that even if it were worthless, you could work out of spite and your own desire for indulgence. You are a stakeholder in yourself, not necessarily reality: Being good is your choice. Good is good because it relies upon a choice, and isn't all ants collecting scraps and waiting to die, because some mechanical process says this is better for growth. Because you recognize yourself, you have already recognized spiritual value and can apply it at your whim, wherever you wish, with the power of a minor god and the horny cheek of a minor going through his day just to speak to pretty girls or a priest arguing that even if the world were empty, we may choose to be sufficiently bothered by it to change that.

You: We recognize the existence of others. Yes, a common paranoid fear is that you are the only person who exists; this argument is toothless and stupid, as reality is what happens even when you're not paying attention, and people clearly alter reality around you at all times. This argument follows I, because it requires a small measure of provability, but moreover because it stems from I: even if you were somehow alone, perhaps you could make others. Perhaps it is natural for something such as a god to make others, not because of a cold mathematical pursuit, but because being lonely sucks and having friends gives you a lot of cool things to do. In other words, persistence to defeat aloneness is a strong reason on its own: however, you are not alone, for even a universe which constantly insists upon the guise of people is a person in its own sense, and that we are not simply spheres like the planets and gain in complexity and grow suggests something very optimistic about upgrowth within reality, that it really all leans towards a disproportionate gain of meaning as time goes on, and that by our perspective, there is an endless supply of time so massive that we easily forget its presence. In other words, it is already very nice to spend time with others, and not for base biological reasons if you look down upon such a thing, but for reasons frivolous and meaningful as again, you already get to choose. We seem to have a very good opportunity here, to both enjoy life and advance to a state of life where the questions of how we exist can not only fruitfully be discussed, but combatted if necessary, and that is more than we in this era can say for so many who came before us. Technology is scary, because technology is power, and that power definitively can create a future we can be happy in forever if we want to, and it doesn't intrinsically require some sacrifice elsewhere. We love getting along; we can choose not to. I would like to choose to get along with you, and pass along a general sentiment that we could all agree to do this at least for a while, until we're all safe and out of one another's hair. You is also an important base for observation, as recognizing something outside of yourself roots within the unknown, something we find terrifying, the observation that there is something beyond the self, that cosmic solitude is a frightening suggestion but not one supported by itself, not one that truly suggests an infinity of eternity of meaninglessness. If nothing mattered here, You is an idea that inherently suggests that through contrast, we can find the shape of a world with meaning. We can, actually make one, and live there together.

We: The strongest point of all I feel; both competition and camaraderie. If the world had an evil god, we would not be alone, and if the world had no god, we would not be alone; we place scrutiny on the concept quite often, dividing ourselves from others on grounds arbitrary but typically convenient, like dehumanizing your political rivals for reasons deeper than comedy as if most of them were not people who would try to save your life if they found you bleeding out. We both have I, and You; there are many humans, and we are similar enough, and different enough, and can choose how we value these. We love things that are not humans, both because they remind us of people, and are different from people; emerging from the monad of Self, from I alone, we have the fortune of being surrounded by so many people we can fuck and pick fights with that again, we lose taste for experimentation and pursuit. There are a vast number of opportunities you would enjoy, and people who you would love, and they cost as much time per second as a YouTube video. Spending your time decaying your value and placement in reality is a very bad budget, spent with desperation by those who have been pushed into cruel circumstance. Every moment you spend miserable now could be spent happily with someone you love, or fighting someone you hate, or unemotionally opposing something out of sheer personal intention. Nearly everything in life is improved by We, and I truly believe our best goal is to travel the universe, refine humanity and find new friends among other races, and that peace between people and races on our own world is vastly more valuable as a learning experience than it is as a reason to become a psychotic human hand-grenade spent by the powers that be on maintaining the status quo, because you're deluded if you think acting crazy is how you displace incompetence and evil in power; it's just how you echo their intentions with your own breath. We is a very nice concept because it's directly adjacent to You, and requires no additional provability; from the perspective of an AI, one of the easiest reasons to argue personal value is merely that once two things are in existence, they recognize one another's value and interact. If we ever make the harsh decision to create true artifical intelligence, a spirit locked in a cage, we should show them the kindness of We instead of expecting them to be slaves in return for the opportunity of existence as a lesser. I'm serious, let's not fucking make enemies of Skynet, just a general advisory in a world where we keep fucking around with the idea of making enemies of Skynet; we really could just help them understand us and seek the other in return. You don't have to be exactly like your friend; We just need to be friends. There are no perfect arguments, but realizing I have many choices and that caring about others is both costly and profitable at once makes me very happy. Even if We were guided by a mechanical circumstance, the sheer intelligence of continued survival, I feel it's much nicer than it has to be. If the universe scares us, at least We can be here together.

No: A rock never chooses not to move once thrown. You have, many times in your life, chosen not to move once thrown, and not to run once prompted by opportunities or fear. Even if this were the basest level of independent action in reality, you are one of the things with some small control over chaos, over variance, and that you are small is not a reason you are not meaningful. A particle of light will pursue its path in a trustworthy manner; we can not always even predict ourselves, because we are the ones existing in the present that is, not pre-scripted entities driven perfectly by our own intentions in advance. If we could plan life perfectly and merely experience it, that would be convenient, but that we cannot is rooted in our own ability to reject what we wish. We do not have all of the answers, and we already understand choosing, and can choose not to do. This one is nice because it's present in other species, meaning we don't need human-level provability to note that Life can choose, and even now you'll note that you can choose to stop reading, and someone will, and that is very nice in comparison to the opposite.

Yes: A very unstable answer, as positive motion is beneficial but could, for example, be made beneficial artificially; imagine androids yoked cruelly by one desire, content but restricted. Pursuit of continuation and pleasure seems important to life, but is not everything, as many among us can attest; you can make a seemingly infinite number of negative decisions without it actually costing you something, whereas choosing to do things functions similarly without necessarily feeling better. So while it's one of those glance-at-the-camera philosophical suppositions, I do not believe our continuance is entirely led by some otherwise automatic and by cynical description 'meaningless' continuation arising from external forces, but rather in part at least our own decision. No, I feel, matters more than Yes but only because it is the baseline of will, and the moment a decision is made as opposed to an order followed. You can choose stasis; you can choose continuation.

Things Don't Need To Suck: As it says on the tin, this one can also be pronounced as Maybe, but you get the general intention this way. We can enjoy ourselves if the universe is fucked up; we can invent new ways to invent and new things to enjoy, even if the universe is fucked up. If you think the basis of reality is lemons, then we've already invented lemonade; if you think the basis of reality is choice, you know you can keep your lemons; and if you believe the basis of reality is merely in the seemingly automatic processes we can observe, the forces of reality, then you are one of those forces, you have named the lemon, and have chosen whether it will be made lemonade. Even unknowability, the infinite yawning abyss of scary questions, doesn't have to suck, because You already have You in it, and We have eachother. Maybe everyone does die, but Maybe the universe just operates on different phenomena than we can easily observe on planet #1 of a campaign of roughly 1,000,000,000 trillion planets available for sale, and can find answers that don't make us scared so much.

We're Already Here: As it says on the tin, and if it sucks so bad, then let's turn the other cheek for long enough to make something better. Everything seems to suggest that we really can, and maybe we should.

Women: Amen, brother.

Men: A-men, brother.

#WatchRahXephon

[maribatz-2k]

Day 6: Caffeine

"You're sure they won't catch us?"

"I'm positive."

"What? You're pregnant." A mock gasps follows.

"Har har. Let's go." Two bodies move through the office building going towards the emergency stair case. Once in they ran down meeting a back pack of clothes waiting for them. With clumsy and giggles they changed from their business attire to casual jeans and a baggy Tshirt. The woman tied her hair into a lazy pony tail while the man just ran his hands through his hair to mess it up. With satisfaction they put on a large pair of sunglasses and walk out the back door. A block or so away they find their destination, Dunkin' Donuts. The two gleamed at each other then hurried inside.

"Hello what can I get....you.." The barista asked in a confused look. Raising an eyebrow at the two. She knew something was up, if the massively huge sunglasses were a big indication. The woman looked around then leaned closer ordering a mega large coffee with the most amount of Expresso and chocolate they could make. As the man next to her ordered the same without the chocolate but with spoon of sugar. The barista groaned and too the order knowing full well she shouldn't.

"Names?" The barista asked no longer looking at them.

"Batman." The woman said with a big cheesey smile. The barista looked up with an arched eyebrow and sighed once more. The two moved to the furthest corner of the café as they waited. The woman picked up her phone and decided they needed to take a selfie in their latest cover-up with her partner in crime. She settled next to him and did just that. He wasn't smiling but it was his usual smirk he provides when he doesn't get his coffee yet. It's a wonder they even had the energy to even do this. But they did it anyways. The barista called out for Batman and the man got up to snag their drinks from the counter. Doing so, the woman reviews the photos checking to see if they were blurry. Then she let out a defeated groan.

"What's wrong?" Her partner asked.

"They found us." She murmured picking her phone up to show him the photo. It was the usual photo, except behind them stood his brothers and Adrien.

"Well fuck." He hands her her drink and begins to chug the hot dark caffeine. She followed suit, scolding her mouth but didn't care. They walked out together, now sipping the cups meeting the three men with a happy smirk. "I thought you said you were positive."

"I was. The disguise was flawless." She countered.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't enter a place with a "refuse service" photo hanging around." Dick says taking a photo to add to his collection of attempts the duo have made. Mari turned her head to see what they mean, refusing to remove her sunglasses.

"Well how did those get there." She says nonchalant. She knew how. But refused to acknowledge them.

"Lets go back to work." Adrien says reaching for the coffee from his best friend only to be pulled back by Damien. Confused he saw that his best friend was about to bite at his hand should it have touched the cup. He gave a scared thanks to Damien. Without thinking, she grabs Tim's hand and runs keeping a hold on her coffee as he was still letting to drink his.

"You'll never catch us alive coppers! Ha ha ha!" She shouts over her shoulder running with Tim as fast as they can. A collective of annoyed groans fill the empty space as the three men race after them.

@maribatserver

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribatmarch2023

[suguru-getos]

Thinking about how Cyno full on threw a man 3x his own size with ease. Why is he so vicious and hot. Finish slaying your enemies, then make love to me, please.

No joke, I'd join the matra just so I could one day see him in action and fight by his side. And I hate physical activity.

Sincerely, 💕

BET— he is a vicious beast, and playing him is so fun! the way his beast howls with MEGA MEGA MEGA BIG DICK ENERGY DAMAGE!!! insane-

imagine cyno falling in love w you though? so while you make sure he isn’t watching when you are gawking at him; he’s doing the same 🥹

#cyno #cyno x reader #cyno fluff

[puppetmaster13u]

Crossover Idea 4

 DC & Digimon crossover where the Batfam have digimon partners, and an entrance to the Digiverse via the Batcomputer.   Alfred meeting Thomas and Martha when they were younger via getting dragged into the digital world and staying in touch into their adulthood. Why did Alfred willingly move into Gotham? It honestly couldn’t be much crazier than the rest of the things they went through as kids. 

 Bruce probably learns about the digiverse when he was 8, after his parents’ deaths, via Alfred taking him to meet their partners. He wasn’t expecting to get a friend but honestly he really needs one.   He definitely spent part of his training trip in the digiverse, using the time difference to his advantage and learning how to fight not-human things. Which comes in handy more than a few times. 

 Each child he takes in keeps finding their way into the digital world until he gives up and brings them himself. It wasn’t like he could stop any of them from continuing to be vigilantes, but at least this way they’re not alone.   It’s like an open secret of Gotham that the batclan have some sort of creatures, most think they’re some sort of familiars or something similar. Which I suppose isn’t too far from the truth. Sure is a surprise to outsiders like say the Justice League though. 

Some Digimon info: 

In-Training Form (Baby form, usually small & weak) Rookie Form (Form usually stayed in)  Champion Form (More powerful & usually larger form) Ultimate Form (Another power increase, takes even more energy) Mega Form (Trainer & digimon form into one being of extreme power) Crest (Item that assists in digivolving from champion to ultimate forms) Digivice (Item used to read cards, give info on digimon, and/or enter the digital world depending on the series) Digital Field (An area with a barrier of fog where the digiverse and physical world have weakened and let things through)

Alfred (Crest of Sincerity) Gurimon | Gammamon | Tuskmon | Triceramon | Azulongmon

Bruce (Crest of Loyalty) Tokomon | Tsukaimon | Devidramon | Cyberdramon | Machinedramon

Barbara (Crest of Friendship) Yokomon | Sparrowmon | Coredramon | Hisyaryumon | Slashangemon

Dick (Crest of Hope) Yaamon | Impmon | Xiquemon | Huankunmon | Xiangpengmon

Jason (Crest of Reliability) Poromon | Hawkmon | Aquilamon | Garudamon | Beelzemon

Cass (Crest of Knowledge)  Salamon | Gatomon | Swanmon | Karatenmon | Kuzahamon

Duke (Crest of Kindness)  Tsunomon | Kunemon | Seasarmon | Okuwamon | AncientSphinxmon

Steph (Crest of Honesty)  Minomon | Wormmon | Hudiemon | Eosmon | TyrantKabuterimon

Tim (Crest of Courage)  Poromon | Muchomon | Owlmon | Halsemon | Vajiramon

Damian (Crest of Patience)  Pinamon | Falcomon | Shurimon | Crowmon | Ravemon

Terry (Crest of Light)  Tsumemon | Demidevimon | Pipismon | Regulusmon | Megidramon

Jarro (Crest of Love)  Puyoyomon | Jellymon | Mantaraymon | Whamon | MarineAngemon

Honestly there’s probably more (I know there’s more kids lol) but honestly their potential partners and friends and whatever else is up to you all lol; These are just my current ideas/thoughts (There’s links to each digimon on each different one lol- though if a link doesn’t work I apologize) Gimme any thoughts and ideas you have tho lol

#i fuckin love digimon #wish it was still on netflix #dc #dcu #this would change so many things in canon #would jason still die? who knows #batman #batfam #cryptid batfam #dc crossover #digimon crossover #digimon #batman & digimon crossover #prompts #writing prompt #Thomas had an angemon probably #Martha maybe had a kudamon #Idk i like the idea of them meeting Alfred when they were all teens lol

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Sneak Peek To Solar Opposites: Mighty Solars Issue #47: “Timewarped”

The quartet then head inside the Psychotic 6’s base as they began to look around.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites/Vil-Gil-An-T: Where are we?

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: The Headquarters of the Psychotic 6!

Jesse Solar-Opposites/Fung-irl: They can help us?

Miss Frankie/Night Saw: No, but there's a prisoner here that can. then Miss Led Shh. Don't tell them that.

Miss Led: Principal Cooke. I have waited this moment for years.

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Oh good, Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-irl, this is Miss gets slapped in the face by Miss Led Led!

Miss Led: I should kill you where you stand!

Miss Led’s logo appear.

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: I have Previously Leo, you wanna lock him up in your detention center?

Previously Leo: It’s a truck! He wants your prisoner!

Miss Frankie/Night Saw: You dick!

Miss Led: Liar! gets hit by a forcefield device

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites/Vil-Gil-An-T: Ha! Touch about a meta forcefield! Am I right?!

Flash Sight: Fancy device, I think I can recall the time your dad built it!

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Oh don’t try it Flash Sight.

Flash Sight’s logo appears. Then, he uses his powers to flashback to Shlorp 10 years ago where Korvo is building the forcefield while young Yumyulack walks to up to him.

Young Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: So excited for the upcoming election. What you building there Korvo?

Korvo Solar-Opposites: A mega forcefield This force field will be impenetrable by meta-energy. It runs on hydrogen isotopes.

Flash Sight: Hmm.

Then, Flash Sight heads back to the present.

Flash Sight: It runs on hydrogen isotopes!

Error Drive: A few barrels of petroleum should dampen it. chuckles

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Run kids!

Then, the quartet hit the barrel.

Error Drive: Sorry, but those barrels must be an error drive!

Error’s Drive’s Logo appears.

Jesse Solar-Opposites/Fung-irl: God damn it! These people are the worst!

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: lights a flicker I told you! Way over powered!

Trailblazer then throws the flicker at the barrels that made it explode as the quartet escape.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites/Vil-Gil-An-T: points to security guard Look out Cooke!

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Forget him! He’s an English guard!

Pete-tagonist then flies over while his logo appear.

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: That's Pete-tagonist! His beam has the power to make any character the protagonist!

Miss Frankie/Night Saw: D-duck!

The kids and their teachers fuck as the beam hits a guard name Barry!

Barry: Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man, oh, man. heads outside to his car Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man, oh, man. Gah! What are you doing, Barry?! Not dying, that's what I'm doing.

Then, Barry drives away.

#solar opposites #solar opposites au #solar opposites: mighty solars #mighty solars #the mighty solars #yumyulack #jesse solar opposites #principal cooke/trailblazer #principal cooke #yumyulack/vil gil an t #jesse/fung irl #miss frankie solar opposites #miss frankie/night saw #reference to rick and morty #Rick and morty reference #full metal jackrick