#/ I think it's justified to learn some moves to someone

[haarute]

re: that poll i rb'd earlier. i've only ever been in one relationship which really just fizzled out but in hindsight i think that her just fully vanishing for a couple of months without any contact while i saw her constantly upload photos of her new college life with new friends in social media every day Really hurt me, and having to pretend that it didn't and that i could just shrug that off and tell her that it was okay was the thing that definitely killed that feeling in me

[meistoshi]

im still laughing abt how anon phrased the leaving thing ksjfhgs like yeah!!! it is that flat. it is that 🤔🤨. he feels guilt but refuses regret, he has interpersonal issues, he's a hypocrite & one therapy session from realizing he is not as perfectly good as he believes himself to be.

[snekdood]

i wanna know where ppl got this idea that im like infinitely praised or something so i need to be constantly humbled bc like... im kinda the only one out here supporting and validating me and I have been like my whole life so......

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[gallusrostromegalus]

Have you talked about the agriculture and infrastructure of AEIWAM? Cause in the show we see the people of Seireitei eating, but they’re dead, so that’s a lot of dead people to be feeding. Plus you’ve established the mail service so public services are available in a way.

What’s the food situation look like? Do we have entire districts of people farming? Are there laws about it? Who can be bribed with a very specific food?

Autism Voice: How much are you prepared to learn about this topic? Because there's 5,236 words under the cut. Godspeed.

So in canon, souls don't "need" to eat, but do so out of habit, and also the rukongai is largely a feudalistic economy, which is not how habits OR feudalism work.

Not to drastically oversimplify enormous fields of history, political theory and socioeconomic, but if you were ever wondering WHY someone would tolerate living in a feudal system, the answer largely is "Because it beat the fuck out of the previous system, 'constant and devastating warfare'."

How feudalism gets started is easy:

There's a very large amount of people with no effective unified government for whatever reason (humans just moved into the area/an empire collapsed/a volcano blew up the general everything, etc.), and a limited amount of arable land, and therefore, a limited amount of food.

There's always a few assholes, and those assholes immediately try to establish dominance over the good turf with violence. This is the "constant warfare" phase of the agrarian government cycle.

In response, everyone bands together with their families and immediate neighbors to create defenses against The Marauding Assholes.

If one village is particularly defensible, or one marauder is particularly good at defense-breaking, people start to move in with whoever they think will do a better job of helping them stay fed. eventually these groups get big enough to need some kind of organization, and the organization tends to default to transactional loyalty.

I swear to god this is about the food situation.

The Transaction is thus: In exchange for taxes and you occasionally being called in for military Service, your Lord keeps the Marauding assholes away and does the obnoxiously complicated work of governance that helps farming but is too time-consuming for any farmer to actually do. Sounds like a good deal, right?

Smart people will recognize several glaring omissions and problems with that deal, but that's not important right now. After decades of "constant and devastating warfare", this is a relatively sane and fair deal.

This transactional loyalty continues up the political food chain: The leaders of several villages along a river need to coordinate efforts along that river or whatever, so they pick One Guy to be The Lord of the River Districts, typically the most popular guy in the clique.

...Or the one with the most heavily armed peasants.

In exchange for coordinating all the traffic/trade/environmental conditions along the river and ensuring peace between all the river districts, The River Lord also gets paid taxes and can call on all the River Lords to turn up with the heavily armed peasants should trouble come knocking.

Eventually, the River Lord makes an alliance with the neighboring Plains Lord and Mountain Lord and the Beach Lord up the coast because warfare suuuuuucks, and the most popular member of that clique is crowned emperor.

After a generation or two of relative stability, people have forgotten what the previous period of warfare was like, and develop the unconscious bias that it's Always Been Like This/the horror stories of your elders are just superstition. See: people who don't vaccinate their children because THEY never met anyone with Polio.

So they start pushing their luck.

Get funny with the ownership laws and realize they can make EVERYONE a renter and get away with being a shitass landlord.

Justify being a shitass landlord by coming up with things like "The Divine Right Of Kings"

Someone figures out that if you make everyone pay taxes in a grain crop, you can get away with EVEN MORE shitholery because you can force the peasants to use the bulk of their time and space to grow a crop that they have a limited ability to process and eat themselves, and grow their actual sustenance on the margins, so you can keep them in line with the constant but unspoken threat of starvation.

So if the Rukongai is running on a rice-based feudal system (which it is, because Kan is a rice-based currency and there are Noble houses and Lords and Daimyo in canon), souls MUST need to eat or the lords would have all been beheaded for being assholes who can't govern a while ago without the threat of starvation.

See? It IS about the food situation.

SIKE

I need to talk about law enforcement and postal services in the modern Soul Society now.

So the thing is: Until Ichigo and his friends show up and Cause A Ruckus, The Gotei-13 didn't actually have the authority to arrest anybody besides other Shinigami, people actively trying to Kill Shinigmai, and Hollows (theoretically) in AEIWAM.

See, after the initial period of "Various Lords make friends with each other for fun and profit", some Lords got really, REALLY good at getting other lords to sign up for their Multi Level marketing Schemes, and got stupid rich and also regular stupid doing it. Five of them specifically. These five super-popular guys were the Five noble lords, and their families that everyone pledged loyalty to became The Great Noble Houses: Shihouin, Kuchiki, Ise, and Shiba. AND DEFINITELY NOBODY ELSE.

The fact that all four of these houses were involved in a peculiar incident that imbued them with terrible spiritual power and some really kicass magical artifacts sure helped too.

Theoretically, any of these Four guys could become Emperor, but nobody was willing to bow to anyone else and it rapidly turned into the tensest five-way Mexican standoff, with a shitload of proxy wars between the minor noble houses that served the Great ones.

Great.

We're back to "constant, if somewhat less devastating warfare" AND we have to pay rice taxes.

...so some peasants invent anarchist communalism.

Not communism, they don't have control of the state, but they DO have Lords that are too busy doing poetry and snorting drugs to do their jobs... or catch them doing things that aren't in their lord's best interests.

So one village elder quietly whispers to another about "Hey, let's agree to trade grain and other supplies to each other at a discount and ah... not tell His Lordship about it. We'll have to send messages to each other in secret tho."

So Some Fucking Peasant becomes The Messages Guy, hoofing it all over the Rukongai delivering messages and facilitating an entirely lordless agrarian economy.

It's Kind of a Big Deal.

It's Kind of a Big Deal because peasants who can communicate are peasants who can ORGANIZE, and when word comes down from the scullery maids and underpaid clerks in the noble houses that the minor houses of X and Y are about to go to war at the behest of their masters THE MOST PECULIAR THING HAPPENS-

Holy shit. Terrible plague outbreak in the lands of Lord X. Hundreds dead. No way any village has anybody to spare for the war. What, you want to look? You want to catch this too? That's what happened to the last guy who came to look and look at him now! Crow food :(

Meanwhile, Lord Y and his two jackass sons have suddenly fallen ill. Must be that Plague from District X. Oh no! They died! Now the only Heir left is his daughter Lady X Who Was Doing All The Work Anyway. How unfortunate :(

;D

and that's not even getting into the network of secret granaries, flash livestock auctions, refugee migration routes and fun new alliances with people like Bandit Gang That Is An Entire Calvalry But Better.

It gets to be such a big deal, there are TONS of message guys, and they organize and demand to be paid properly for all this running and not getting caught by the nobs.

And the first postal service is born.

And shit, now that they're organized, why not formalize some of these grain stores and livestock trades and does the cavalry want to help delivering these messages? Or how about all the Village Elders who are experts in various things write down how all that stuff is done so it can be shared? Maybe they should all have a chance to meet up and share wisdom in person...

Shigekuni Yamamoto is all of eleven years old when he hears the village elder who runs the orphanage float the idea. Much, much later, he'll recall that THAT was when the Central 46 began.

Gradually, the lordless network of elder advice and tax-free farm economy grows, and begins to develop internal structures of it's own, and slowly grows to rival the Noble Houses in power, the decentralization of the network making it difficult for the noble houses to even recognize as a player, let alone attack.

Sure, lone messengers are often captured by the armies of the noble houses, but the messages they carry make little sense- the peasants use an entirely different alphabet- and the messengers will bite their tongues off and drown in their own blood before speaking.

But the shape of this secret fifth house remains a mystery for a long time until it becomes An Fucking Problem for food-related reasons. Specifically:

Ever Since the noble houses came back with weird magic powers and fucked up artifacts, there's been more and more and MORE people who have their own fucked up magical powers who live bizarrely long lives and also there are these really fucked up creatures with skull-like masks and holes in their chest that FUCKING EAT PEOPLE??

Fortunately, if you've got one of these magical freaks in your village, they're GREAT at dealing with the hole-monsters or "Hollows"

Unfortunately, these guys need a TON of food.

I read a statistical analysis from a medieval European scholar who worked out that in an agrarian economy, if you want to have ONE full-time warrior, you need to have about 1000 people to support that guy in terms of services needed and the labor lost from them being a fighter. ...And these magical warriors have the appetites of three or four people.

So anyone born with Spiritual power in Soul society is a bit up shit creek.

While everyone experiences the threat of starvation but for them, it's a matter of days, not weeks. While their home village would love to keep them, they straight-up may not be able to produce enough food, even if he's a magical farmer most of the year.

The nearest noble house definitely has enough food. But they also know from the Magical Dudes in their own families just how hungry these guys are, AND how powerful they are and how badly a rival house would want them. So the Noble houses often default straight to conscription, threats of violence against the warrior's home and family, indentured servitude and straight-up curses to control any spiritually powerful people who appear in their districts before a Rival house can make them a decent offer. Or kidnap them.

Basically, unless you're actually a member of the family, the noble houses SUCK to work for. Magical warriors are treated like weapons or animals or worse, are forced to marry into the family.

What are you going to do though? Starve? Not a lot of other options.

...until the secret postal service starts.

Postal Service has Food. And decent wages and working conditions baked right into the way its run.

Sure, it's not easy work, but the magical warriors are the fastest and strongest out there, AND the people most equipped to handle suddenly running into a Noble Guard or a hollow.

Once the word gets out, the magical warriors are practically hammering down the post office doors for a job.

Bit of a rowdy lot, these guys. The Council of Elders realizes. Also, very noticable to the noble houses. it's going to becaome real clear what's going on real fast, and we don't have an army. Yet...

Enter Postmaster-General Shigekuni Yamamoto, who has been running this for the last 500 years and already built a Dojo to train carriers how to defend themselves. He's even a pretty heavy hitter of a magical warrior himself! We'll have him run the army. It's basically the same thing, right?

Yamamoto is made aware of his promotion when the news is first released up north where the council is holding it's meeting this year, and an adolescent Chojiro Sasakibe decides that a good way to apply to the Dojo is to Personally Deliver the News Himself.

At 1 AM

In Sensei's Bedroom. "...Are you all like this, or are you a special pain in the ass?" the man with the extremely impressive mustache and frightening glare croaks at the lad. "My ability to inflict discomfort on various backsides has been noted before, Sir!" Sasakibe reports cheerfully. "...But I'm not sure who you mean by 'you all'?" "You and every other maniac with an ounce of Reiryoku who's apparently headed here at speed?" Yamamoto glowers at the letter he's been handed. Chojiro frowns, looking off to the side and rubbing his chin, giving the question entirely too much serious thought. "Well-" the boy grimaces. "I'd say that compared to the population at large, I'm a statistically significant pain in the ass, but compared to just people with spiritual power, I'm only a minor nuisance." Yamamoto groans, laying back down and staring at the ceiling for a bit. "How old are you, boy?" "Fourteen sir!" Chojiro chirps. "Princess-Who-Understands-The-Heavens, he's fucking fourteen." Yamamoto groans, rubbing his face. "Well. You're my pain in the ass now. Make yourself useful and get me some breakfast."

Sasakibe has been faithfully following that order for the last 1200 years :)

Soon, the Lordless Council of Elders has themselves a sizeable, very powerful and extremely loyal army. In an act of extreme magnanimity, they extend an offer to each of the Four Noble Houses to bring an end to the feuding and create a government and laws for noble and peasant alike to follow and prosper under.

Every Single Noble House: 🗡️⚔️🔪FUCK. YOU. 🔪⚔️🗡️

Well, this was going to happen sooner or later, Yamamoto supposes, and readies for The Final War To End All Wars.

He was so full of hope and promise back then.

The Four Noble houses and Postal Army prepare their initial salvos but before anyone could strike, AN ABSOLUTE SHITWACK OF ARROWS rain down from the sky.

Knock Knock It's The Quincies.

Everyone scrambles against the invaders, but refuses to ally and soon the last hope of Spirit World is pinned on The Postmaster-General, the couple dozen surviving warriors of his Dojo, and Twelve Fucking Maniacs he hired off Death Row.

To ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE'S VAST SURPRISE, Yamamoto is Victorious. Well. Him and some weird monk guy who turned Yhwach into a bug, gave Yamamoto A Mandate From heaven re: The Hollows and Balance of Souls, and Dipped.

The tattered remains of the noble houses finally Unite, but Shigekuni Genryusai Yamamoto has three names now and is like unto a God. and the twelve shady bastards backing him up are no slouches either. ...Perhaps it's time to Negotiate.

And negotiations happen! - The Noble houses bring their not-insubstantial forces to the table, along with the fact they're the only people who have a System FOR collecting taxes, something a government really does need. - The Council of Elders brings it's vast organizational network, expertise in many practical subjects and Lifetimes of Wisdom, only accurate maps of the immediate spirit world. - The newly-named Court Guard brings it's Much more substantial force, it's Mandate from on high, and Yamamoto's scary mustache and even scarier wife.

Things are actually going pretty well. Yamamoto and the army are getting the civil protections they wanted, the elders are getting the fairer means of governement they wanted and the Noble houses are getting to still be Rich As Cream.

...then someone sneaks in to negotiations. Well, they were actually brought in, as part of the entourage of one of the Elders, who takes her advice very seriously. After all, she's the oldest being the elder knows- even older than whatever it was that made the nobles so powerful in the first place.

"Listen, I've worked with these slippery shits before. Make damn sure they can't betray you." she growls. "I know, Yamamoto-sama has laid a very clever trap for them-" the elder nods. "No, I mean Yamamoto." She growls, yellow eye narrowing as she tracks him and his wife as they meander around the gardens below the negotiation hall. "Not him specifically, but it was a betrayal by someone like him- someone gifted the power of heaven- who cursed me to be as I am." "...Oh." says the elder, realizing that if Yamamoto could strike down that monster that lead the Quincies, he could very easily turn his blade on the council too.

...And that's when the first cracks in the bond between Yamamoto and The Council appeared.

So it was declared thus:

The actual governing would be done by the Council of Elders, now called the Central 46.

The Noble houses would still be allowed to retain their lands and collect SOME taxes in exchange for clearly defined and legally binding responsibilities.

The Gotei-13 would be responsible for matters supernatural- People with strange powers, the balance of souls between worlds, hollows, etc. funded and housed by the Central 46.

Additionally, the four of the captain's positions in the Gotei-13 would be reserved for the scions of The Great Noble Houses, unless it somehow came to pass that there were no Scions left.

The former armies of the Noble Houses would become the Onmitsukudo*, who would do the actual enforcing of the central 46's laws and collecting of taxes in the Rukongai, as well as independently collecting information for the central 46.

The Central 46 would also cultivate and independent force of spiritually powerful souls to use the art of Kido for Civil Projects and assisting the Omnitsukido or Gotei-13 when necessary.

It's Peace, but it's a Very Uneasy Peace.

As it stands, the Gotei-13 is *a* military branch, and a force to be reckoned with should they decide to throw their weight around, but they are entirely legally beholden to the Central 46 and not allowed to enforce the law. In fact, the Central 46 and Onmitsukido are allowed to arrest and detain any shinigami they see as a threat, without notice, explanation or Trial. The Central 46 could even decide to stop funding the Gotei-13 altogether and leave them to starve if they chose.

That's why Yamamoto is so strict about direct orders from the Central 46, and why Shinigami aren't allowed into the government quarter of the city.

Is this an excessive amount of world-building? maybe Is it actually making the writing process easier because I actually know what the broader chains of causality already are so the plot flows more naturally? YES. More importantly, am I having fun? VERY MUCH YES.

...What the fuck was this about again?

Oh, right. Food.

So as you can see from the previous fucking doctoral thesis, the food situation is

INTENSELY POLITICAL

AND

EXTREMELY FRAUGHT

...but actually pretty stable!

The vast majority of flat-enough-to-use land in the Rukongai is dedicated to farming. The land mass of the districts gets larger as you get farther from Seireitei, and districts 40-75 are almost ENTIRELY agrarian, with substantial amounts of farming occurring in 20-40 and above 75.

The Primary crop is still rice, but that's been receding since Soul Society finally switched to a Fiat Currency in the 1800s.

Also since about then, a greater variety of crops from the living world have appeared, including: Tomatoes, Potatoes, Crummock, Salsify, Cantaloupe, Avocado, Jicama, Sunroot, Marijuana, Strawberries, Corn, Broccolini, blue berries, boysenberries, Chicory, Cranberries, asparagus, black berries, raspberries, black raspberries, red blackberries, Okra, Coca, lingon berries, elder berries, Rhubarb, gooseberries, salmonberries, bearberries, and so many fucking squash.

New livestock has appeared as well- Soul Society has had an almost unlimited supply of beef from the Chihuahuan Desert cattle trade, but recently there have been new arrivals from the living world- wool sheep, Dairy cattle, Llamas, Mini pigs, Micro Pigs, Guinea Pigs, Fallow Deer, and those fucked up damascus goats.

There is also a bunch of crops native to Soul Society like Hummage, Black yams, ratweed, Pinnerey, Tomangoes, Craic, Duck radish, Sisei, and So Many Fucking Beans. There is also, like Nano Pigs, Pico Pigs, Mega Pigs and the terrifying Giga Pig (actually a type of Cavy). There are also Meat Horses, wool donkeys, and riding cattle, as well as Fertile mules.

Are there Laws About It?

Bruh.

The Soul Society Department of Agriculture was the FIRST formal regulatory agency formed by the Central 46. Even before the IRS.

Soul Society Agricultural and Land-Use Law is so Complex and Arcane that Kaname invents* an entire Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Case for that takes Momo over a DECADE to investigate in various archives (Aizen is allergic to paper dust), travel to distant districts of the Rukongai (He also gets sick on trains and gates are for emergency use only), and talk to a hell of a lot of lawyers about (Aizen hates talking to anyone who really understands contract law) specifically to keep her physically away from Aizen as much as possible. It even works! *Sort of. The Rice Subsidy Fraud is Very Very real, but difficult to investigate, so he was leaving her subconscious clues in the crossword to point her to more evidence.

Who can be bribed with Very Specific Food?

As a side-effect of shinigami appetites, very nearly everyone to at least some degree. Most have hard limits about what they will accept any kind of compensation for, but everyone can be at least inclined to consider your proposal with the right snacks.

Ukitake loves cookies. He won't break laws or promises or forgo prior engagements, but he will make little exceptions that will make everyone happier.

It's more effective to bribe Rukia with plushies instead of food.

---

Mayuri wants whole-roasted fish, especially the heads and eyeballs. Technically, Mayuri has no limits, but you're going to need to present him with something exceptional.

Nemu can be persuaded to do some truly startling things for a nice dessert. She's done felonies for a fruit parfait before.

You can't Bribe Urahara with food, but you can bribe him with edibles ;)

Akon has a chart posted on his office door what various favors cost in money, labor, cigarettes, beer and/or pirated media.

---

Zaraki doesn't have a specific food he likes, but is constantly craving calories. He's also very willing to eat all your food and then tell you to go fuck yourself. The most effective strategy is to share food while asking for nothing a few times and then ask for whatever you needed his help with outside of a food context. For better or worse, he's extremely trainable.

You can't Bribe Yachiru with what she's already stolen out of your pockets.

Ikkaku is sort of offended when people fail to attempt to bribe him, and VERY offended if they try to lowball him. What, do you think he's cheap? Will show up anywhere with a buffet tho.

Attempting to Bribe Yumichika is a great way to end up owing Yumichika for the rest of your life. He never fails to make it to Sasakibe's High Teas/Gay Bitching sessions and often takes the snacks home.

---

People try to bribe Rangiku with alcohol all the time, which is really annoying. She is Perfectly Capable of acquiring her own booze thank you! Also, they keep offering her shit like Aged Whiskey which tastes how burnt hair smells. What she REALLY wants is Neon orange "Cheez" or "Nacho Blasted" snacks from the Living World. She craves that Riboflavin.

Hitsugaya lets everyone believe he's a slut for watermelon so they don't offer him the thing he'd actually have to fight to not accept: Jerky.

---

Tousen will not be 'bribed' into doing anything and will get extremely offended if you imply that he might consider it. He will, however, go to remarkably extreme lengths to get his hands on persimmons without paying for them. Not theft, that's very unethical, but he holds a bizarre principle about never paying for that fruit so that means exploiting agricultural, fair use, zoning and Tree laws to find or plant persimmon trees that are Perfectly Legal for him to pick from.

Kensei is similarly stony about the idea of being 'bribed', and worse still has an utterly flavorless protien-based diet. Mashiro knows he's got a pathological craving for Oreos and exploits it regularly.

Shuuhei will not be bribed but he will be VERY grateful if you go fill up his water bottle for him. Dweeb.

Mashiro will sell her own granny for a corn chip because she likes snacks, loves shenanigans, and knows her granny can kick a man in half and could use the excitement.

---

Everyone *knows* Shunsui is a drinker, but the trick is that he's savoring some really, REALLY good stuff very slowly. You can't afford the shelf he's drinking from. He thought he was immune to food-based Bribery until Nanao was out of town one week and the rank-and-file Shinigami she left to mind him introduced him to the grand tradition of the post-spree Dirty Great Fry-Up. It was like waking up in heaven to his hungover ass, and now he's the one attempting to bribe his minder into making it again every time he wants to go on a bender because he refuses to wake up from one any other way again.

Nanao did not believe the minder when she told Nanao of the great power of The Dirty Great Fry-Up, but now that Shunsui limits his sprees to the availability of breakfast the following morning, Nanao is trying to figure out what kind of raise it's going to take to keep the fry cook on staff.

---

Sajin Komamura is a deeply honorable man who doesn't even like eating lunch out with a visitor lest it be misconstrued and because he's still self-concious about eating in front of others. Last spring though, someone put up flyers for Game Share tags, and Komamura met with them in private to negotiate terms and ended up putting almost half a month's salary towards at least two does, one wild sow, as many marmots as they can bag (they can keep the pelts), and the offal/feet of the other animals they bag on other tickets. Half of the following month's salary went towards an adequate chest freezer. It's worth it though. His diet had been suffering from lack of variety and some of the vitamins and other nutrients from parts humans don't eat and by December his coat is LUXURIOUS.

Tetsuzaemon won't do anything illegal but will do some remarkably stupid shit for a beer.

---

You don't even SAY the word 'bribe' in the sixth division. Byakuya will remember you forever if you bring him an extremely specific brand of seaweed snack though.

Renji will eat anything handed to him, which is a problem because he almost broke a tooth on a stapler he thought was going to be a sandwich. He's unbribable because his brain won't process anything you say to him while he's eating.

---

People kept bringing Aizen Chocolate when he was captain and he HATED it. It's not that he dislikes the food: it's that his Dead Twin Brother was an absolutely peerless confectioner and made chocolate that could make the angels weep. Not only are Aizen's standards ridiculously high, the food is a genuine trauma trigger for him.

Shinji loves him some Black Thunder Chocolate bars but is so goddamn bad at conversations that he will not grok what the FUCK someone is talking about when they try to bribe him. He'll think they're a bad conversationalist with good taste in candy.

Some god thought they were being real funny when they made Momo be born with an aversion to peaches and a deep fondness for Sour and bitter Flavors. Shinji did manage to remember her joking about that and bought her a jar of pickled lemons for her birthday as a joke, and was genuinely surprised when she was moved to tears.

You have to Bribe Hiyori to even get her to listen to your proposal for the thing you're actually trying to bribe her for. For Better or Worse, she trades in novel potato chip flavors.

---

Attempting to bribe Unohana with food is an absolute crapshoot, because what she'll accept is a complex internal metric of how serious the favor is, how much she likes you, and how much she likes the proferred snack. You might be able to get a perscription for something that's normally a band substance for some Senbei, you might lose your nose for even bringning Okra into her hosptial. Best not play that particular roulette.

Isane is impossible to bribe because she just agrees to stuff before you can bring out the payment. Sure, you got your surgery moved or your hands in some pretty heavy drugs, but you'll walk away with the feeling that, since you didn't actually pay her for this, you actually OWE her now, and you'd be right. You'd better believe she'll call in that favor whenever she needs it, because you're *friends*, aren't you? It also never occurs to anyone to offer her her favorite food: Apples.

Hanataro has accidentally taken bribes multiple times because he did not realize people were attempting to pay him. He thinks it's just basic manners to show up at someone else's home or office with snacks and also people are wildly misinformed about what he's legally allowed to do. What? they wanted me to BREAK A LAW? FOR KIT-KATS?? The boy loves him some kit-kats but not to the point of committing a FELONY, what the fuck???

---

Izuru once walked in on Gin swallowing a rat whole, turned around and tried desperately to pretend he hadn't actually seen that for a year, until he REALLY fucked up his scheduling conflicts and needed an extra week of paid time off to go to a friend's wedding and in a fit of panic, attatched a deceased rat suitable for serpentine consumption he purchased from a pet store. Gin was more than happy to give him the time off and hey, a little hazard pay so you can get something nice for the happy couple Unfortunately, this also condemned Izuru to having Gin lean out of his office at least every other month and holler "Hey Izuru? What's our Rat Guy's phone number?" loud enough to be heard by the entire Division.

Rose can be bribed with anything from a patisserie.

---

People keep givng Soi Fon honey which is honestly starting to feel like a microaggression at this point. What she REALLLY wants is a bucket of fried chicken.

You can't Bribe Omaeda with food, he's the one feeding YOU. Sit down and stop yapping, you're skin and bones!

---

Yamamoto does not accept bribes, at all, ever. He does accept all forms of SUPER MEGA SPICY FLAMING DEATH-REINCARNATION-AND-SECOND-FLAMING-DEATH TURBOFIRE HOT hot sauce.

Sasakibe has been assisitant headmaster of Shin'o academy since it was founded before the fall of Rome. no matter how delicious your offer or how clever your scheme, an adolescent dork already made a better version of it like 700 years ago. Pathetic. What Sasakibe REALLY wants is to be able serve high tea to an adoring crowd. Hope you like cucumber sandwiches.

Okay this is like 5.2K and it's 3AM I'm gonna end this and go to bed.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[aro-pokeverse]

Oh, right... I've seen an ad of "Blueberry Terrarium Preservation Program". And of course I saw they want to include Hisuian forms, like Zorua, Sneasel. Currently as I'm aware, they only have Kleavor. It was crossed out as preserved.

Well, I think we should dance. Here, lemme show ya moves!

Sylvia approaches the Zoroark. "Hiya, you like dancing? I like dancing. Anyways, I never saw your species form before, is that a special form from somewhere?" She doesn't know any Hisuian forms since they are pretty uncommon thing now.

"Not much of a dancer, but I'm willing to give it a shot just to celebrate."

"I can't say I blame you for not knowing what I am. I come from the past, and as far as I know, Hisuian Pokemon are extremely rare now."

[indigovigilance]

A Nightingale Sang in 1941

This is my inaugural meta (yay!) Eventually I will learn how to add gifs and whatnot to make this more interesting but today, I give you a wall of text.

I need to give credit where credit is due to three existing metas that I’m drawing upon heavily here:

A speculative continuation of the 1941 story, which includes an almost-kiss while “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays on the gramophone,

A behavioral analysis of Aziraphale during the S2E6 finale (will find ref later if possible)

A meta-analysis of the way in which “coffee” is used as a symbolic equivalent for liberty and freedom of choice, a running theme of this show (will find ref later if possible)

I’m going to expand upon meta #2 and #3 and explain why I think there is are very compelling reasons to believe that #1 will be canonized.

At the end of S1E6, an instrumental version of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays diegetically, but the lyrical version plays non-diegetically over the credits (we hear it but the protagonists don’t). So we the audience could plausibly say “that’s their song,” but as of the close of S1, we have no reason to believe that they know that it’s their song. Even Aziraphale’s S1E3 (1967) suggestion that they dine at the Ritz could be a reference that only he gets, or just a fancy restaurant suggestion.

So when I was watching S2E6 and Crowley said “no nightingales,” I was jarred. What does that even mean? We know it has something to do with dining at the Ritz, but what does it mean to them? The reference only works if they know it’s their song. But we’ve only ever seen them hear it together after the averted apocalypse; if this is the direct reference that Crowley is making, it leaves our 1967 reference contextless and twisting in the wind.

If we assume that there was a romantic story beat in 1941, wherein “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” (which, incidentally, was written in 1939 and saw the height of its popularity at the end of 1940, so timeline-wise it’s spot-on) became their song, then a lot of events get renewed interpretations through this lens, in a way that makes this story much more cohesive and the “no nightingales” comment even more soul-shattering than it already was.

Let’s presume that immediately after this became their song and just as they were discovering their romantic potential, they were forced back into hiding. Forever after, references to the song serve as a macro for “I’d like to pick up where we left off that night.”

The 1967 suggestion of “dining at the Ritz” now becomes a directly romantic suggestion. It also gives better context for “you go too fast for me.”

Actually going to the Ritz in 2019 is not simply a celebration or even a callback to 1967, it’s a callback to their almost-romance of 1941.

When Crowley says “no nightingales” in 2023, this isn’t to say “we’re not going to eat together at the Ritz anymore.” It’s saying that the romance that began that night, the precious, fragile romance, is over.

I’ll give you a moment to dry your eyes before we move on to metas #2 and #3.

In light that this is what has been going on - they know they want a romantic relationship but have gotten so used to hiding and denying it that they are more comfortable keeping the status quo static and quo-y then trying to achieve their ideal - a lot of S2 behavior can get a fresh view.

Crowley’s reaction to Nina isn’t a realization that he’s in love - he knew that already. You can only ask someone to run away with you so many times before you are forced to admit some things to yourself. No, he’s realizing that trying to hide it (which was justified by survival), hasn’t been working, but despite failing at being stealth nothing bad has happened. He’s realizing that it may finally be safe to show it.

Crowley’s confession, then, is not a revelation. It’s making the subtext text. He’s not telling Aziraphale anything he didn’t already know. He’s saying it now because he thinks he’s safe to do so. Pin in that.

Lots of people have lots of theories about Aziraphale’s motivations in the S2 finale, which can more or less be divided into 4 camps: the genuinely held belief, the coffee theory, the lie theory, and the mutual trick theory (some version of the body-switching at the end of S1). Let me start by saying that I love all the fans and all their theories and I find their analyses to be insightful. The genuinely held belief theory, while I believe it to be erroneous, has been incredibly conducive to so many wonderful conversations and I love being in a community that has those conversations. But I’m going to explain why I think the lie theory finds the most support in canon.

Re-watch the finale (when you feel like you can) from 35:18 to 36:19 and then from 40:45 to the end, paying very close attention to Aziraphale’s words and his eyes. Michael Sheen is telling us a LOT with his eyes, and in the back half of the finale scene, with pacing.

For 60 seconds of footage, this setup is doing a lot of work. If Neil Gaiman wasn’t doing enough to beat us over the head with how evil the Metatron is, that glare at Crowley at the end with the non-diegetic ominous horns should convey the message. But again, focusing on Aziraphale. He initially refuses to talk to the Metatron; he’s made his position quite clear. There is no hint of regret or wavering; this is not someone who’s aching to return to the fold. The Metatron ignores his refusal and functionally forces him to accept a “cup of coffee.” The coffee isn’t spiked, but it is a metaphor. It is symbolic of choice. The Metatron is going to force Aziraphale to make a choice. Meta #3 does a great job of exploring the idea that a choice between anything and death is never really a choice. Hang onto that thought.

Notice I had you start up again 3 seconds before “The Conversation.” That’s because it’s important to note where the Metatron is right now. He is across the street, staring straight in through those giant windows to where our protagonists are about to have The Conversation. He is watching.

When Aziraphale returns, Crowley begins his “let me talk” riff. Aziraphale ought to be interested in what Crowley has to say, since the preamble is pretty compelling. You’ll notice that Aziraphale quickly turns to the window and back, through which he (but not we) can see the Metatron standing there, watching them. Aziraphale is then doing his best to get Crowley to STFU without raising the suspicion of the Metatron, eventually having to cut him off.

Because unfortunately, Crowley’s entire impetus for speaking up now is that it’s safe to do so. Only Aziraphale knows that they are in very real danger (or at least, Crowley is, but I’ll come back to that).

You might take something from the fact that he’s shaking his head while talking about “incredibly good news,” and seems to self-censor his criticism of Metatron (or more specifically, he takes ownership of any criticism of the Metatron, censoring out Crowley’s role in that, with the emphasis on I in “I might have misjudged him”).

Notice in the flashback that he begins the conversation reasonably relaxed. The Metatron also says a series of things about him that not only are false, but everyone, including the Metatron and Crowley, know are false: Aziraphale is not a leader, he’s a defector; he’s not honest, he lies all the time, in fact this entire season revolved around his one huge lie of hiding Gabriel. Not only does the justification not make sense coming from Metatron, but it shouldn’t make sense that Aziraphale would accept these reasons and it shouldn’t make sense to Crowley either. So is Aziraphale including these details in his recounting to Crowley so that he will get suspicious and figure out the jig? Maybe. Let’s continue.

Immediately upon being offered the job of Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale says “but I don’t want to go back to Heaven.” This is direct evidence against the genuinely held belief theory. If returning to Heaven and making a difference was a genuine motivation, we would have gotten a different response at this moment. But then we get something more.

“Where would I get my coffee?”

This is a beautiful response for a number of reasons; coffee should be trivial compared to the opportunity to be a Supreme Archangel, so it serves to highlight just how little interest Aziraphale has in returning. Taken at face value, it’s the Aziraphale equivalent of “not even at gunpoint.” But remember that coffee is a metaphor for liberty in this universe and this season. So what Aziraphale just said, in the language of Neil Gaiman metaphors, is:

I don’t want to go back to Heaven, I would rather have free will.

What does the Metatron do next?

He brings up Crowley.

Watch Aziraphale’s eyes before and after the mention of Crowley. He goes from confused to eye-flicking panic in the space of two syllables. Aziraphale already understands that his “no” is not being accepted, and that bringing Crowley into it can only possibly serve as a threat.

So the coffee, the choice, is a false choice. No one ever orders death. The Metatron has forced Aziraphale into a situation that looks an awful lot like a choice (it comes in a blue cup, after all) but it isn’t.

We definitely have some reliable narrator problems here. I’m going to presume for purposes of analysis that these cut-outs are accurate but incomplete, and that a more explicit threat about what would happen to Crowley if Aziraphale did not return to Heaven was made.

If we assume that Aziraphale has been made aware of a threat and is trying to hide that from Crowley, the rest of this scene reads very differently. Aziraphale cannot say, “you are in danger but you will be safe if you swear your allegiance to Heaven” or “I have to go, no matter what, and the only way we can be together is if you come with me,” but nonetheless he now has to convince Crowley to do the one thing he ought to know Crowley definitely doesn’t want to do all through subtext. Which we’ve spent an entire season establishing that they can’t communicate well when they are allowed to use their words. Disastrously, this is not a magic trick that Aziraphale can make work when it counts. Their failure to practice good communication means that, right now, when it counts most, they are not going to pull it off.

We see that Aziraphale is very hopeful that Crowley will pick up on his cues and play along. Obviously, he doesn’t.

If the whole riff about Hell being bad guys and Heaven being the side of truth and light is taken as genuine, it discards a massive amount of character development that we’ve witnessed in Job, Edinburgh, etc. (again, to all the genuine belief subscribers, I think it’s a compelling argument but it simply doesn’t account for the evidence). So if it’s not genuine, why say it? Again, to alert Crowley that something is Off, because Crowley should know that Aziraphale doesn’t actually believe that. They saved humanity from Heaven and Hell. They hid Gabriel from Heaven and Hell. Crowley knows that Aziraphale knows that Heaven and Hell are just two sides of the same coin. Notice again that Aziraphale glances out the window while he’s talking up Heaven; he knows the Metatron is watching, he can’t not defend the position of Heaven. I think it’s also worth noting that Aziraphale forcefully glances and gestures off to Crowley’s left (away from the window) when talking about Hell, and then turns his head to Crowley’s right (towards the window) to try to get him to realize that a representative of Heaven is literally standing right over there, just look out the window please dumbass!

When Crowley is asking Aziraphale if he said no, and we see the back of Aziraphale’s head, again we can see him turn his head to glance out the window. This is also when he changes strategies, and admits that Heaven could use a little reform. Because now there’s a problem almost as big as getting caught, which is that he won’t be able to get Crowley to go with him.

Which unfortunately makes the next part of this so much more heartbreaking. Because when Crowley begins his speech about being a team, Aziraphale wants to hear it. He can’t bring himself to shut down Crowley again, even though it could get them both in massive trouble. Notice that he glances out the window again during this, and the look of panic on his face. He begins to shake his head when Crowley mentions that Heaven and Hell are toxic; this can be taken a lot of ways but I’ll argue for the interpretation that he’s trying to get Crowley to STFU and stop saying shit that could get him destroyed.

After Crowley puts on his sunglasses we are in the “back half” and Sheen is doing a lot with phrasing here, specifically pregnant pauses.

“Come with me… to Heaven!”

“We can be together… as angels!”

Based on the pacing decision I am thoroughly convinced that the first half of each of these statements is intended to be the message to Crowley and the second half is always a qualifying statement to satisfy the Metatron.

Unfortunately, these pregnant pauses are completely backfiring in their effect on Crowley. The sentiment gives him hope and the qualifying statement crushes it again immediately. He is being taken on a horrible emotional rollercoaster with these declarations which are only further amping up his instinct to run away.

The only truly genuine, unaldulterated statement I think we get from Aziraphale is

“I need you!”

When it becomes clear to Aziraphale that there’s been an irreparable breakdown of communication between them and the subtext is not getting across, he says:

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

He means this literally. Crowley has not understood that Aziraphale is offering him protection from whatever threat the Metatron has made.

Which makes this part extra-devastating and also absolutely in keeping with a major running theme of this season.

“I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”

Your understanding and my understanding are different understandings.

Crowley views the offer to return to Heaven through the lens of his trauma. He understands what life in Heaven would be like. But he doesn’t understand that Aziraphale is offering him protection.

But Aziraphale just heard Crowley say that he understood everything, and he’s still going to leave. There might be a little suspense of disbelief here to believe that Aziraphale really interpreted the statement this way, but we know that Aziraphale isn’t always the brightest battery-operated candle in the drawer. So under the assumption that Crowley did understand him and is still rejecting the offer, rejecting him—

“Well, then there’s nothing more to say.”

Please pay very close attention to Aziraphale’s body language for the next part. He’s active, agitated, turning side to side, arms swinging. This is a very fidgety angel.

“No nightingales.”

Aziraphale is now completely still. He’s feeling that feeling. You know it. The one where your entire body is getting sucked into the pit of your stomach. The aching paralysis.

This is their song, the one that began their romance in 1941, the secret code for all other attempts at flirtation. Crowley has walked out on him before, Aziraphale has been stubborn and obstinate before. But they always came back together, sometimes with an apology dance or other rituals that belonged solely to them.

But now the song is over.

By saying this, Crowley has broken up with Aziraphale. We can see in Aziraphale’s sudden transition from fidgety to paralysis that he has understood it this way.

Then he turns away from the window so that the Metatron won’t see him cry.

The kiss was heart-wrenching already. But we’re not done with this analysis.

During the kiss, Aziraphale has a choice to make between two very compelling bad choices. This is the Job dilemma. But worse.

If he doesn’t kiss Crowley back, he will let Crowley think that he doesn’t love him. He will have missed out on this (maybe/probably their first kiss?) and regret it forever.

If he does kiss Crowley back, in full view of the Metatron, they are in deep trouble.

He seems to do his best to split the difference. I would even go so far to say that the awkward arm waving is Aziraphale acting for the Metatron’s benefit, to try to portray that he doesn’t want this even though he absolutely does (just not like this). The anguish when they break the kiss is absolutely real, and the first thing he does is glance out the window. Through all this he has remained painfully aware of their spectator.

He wants to say I love you. He mouths it. He breathes it.

But the Metatron is watching.

He can’t tell Crowley I love you. So he has to say the only other thing that has always unequivocally meant “I love you” when he said it to Crowley. He has to hope that Crowley understands him now, even though he never has before.

Spoiler alert: Crowley doesn’t.

My forgiveness and your forgiveness are not the same forgiveness.

One more point against the genuine belief fans (I love you): if the offer to let Crowley back in is what changed his mind, then Crowley declining removes that incentive. Aziraphale should/would have consequently retreated to his last stated position of “I don’t want to go back to Heaven, where would I get my Crowley—I mean, coffee?” [post-publication nod to @theonevoice for a great little meta] It simply doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.

I think a lot of fans were already making these assumptions about the use of the nightingale song so this meta may not feel revelatory, however, it isn’t canon (yet), and I’m sure I’ll find company that agree that canonization of this connection would strengthen a lot of these story points, as evidenced by how it is already assumed by many fans.

If you made it to the end - omg thank you! Please leave a note and tell me your thoughts!

Bonus: somebody already made the song connection here

~~~

if you liked this, you may also like:

Book of Life and what it means for Crowley

The Erasure of Human!Metatron

Baraqiel and Azazel

~~~

Recommended related (lie theory) metas by other people:

making the subtext text by @theonevoice

Aziraphale's Decision Matrix by @yowlthinks

Nothing Lasts Forever: META by @phoen1xr0se

[atticmichaelangelo]

Junko: How patriarchy, time, and perception influence ( female ) friendships:

Junko is without a doubt a rather polarising figure within the Nana fandom. While some are inclined to view her as the epitome of a terrible friend, others find that there are aspects of her character that are not completely unreasonable. Some even argue that she is fully justified in her actions, interpreting them as a weary response to Nana Komatsu (Hachi’s) dependent and at times childish behaviour. 

I personally find her to be an extremely intriguing case study on female friendships - it is rare to find a depiction of female friendships that deviates from the endlessly supportive, forgiving, and nurturing portrayals of female relationships. Often times women are not as forgiving and sweet to each other as is often idealised in popular media, with dynamics often being fraught with internalised misogyny, societal perceptions, past experiences, and unhealthy attachment - so it is refreshing to see such a realistic, unorthodox, and complex portrayal of relationships dynamics between women—an topic that is often underrepresented and undervalued, yet crucial in order for people of any age to reflect on their own friendships and the factors that shape their beliefs and behaviours within them.

Firstly, I think that there is no point in disputing that Junko, in her own, often unconventional way, cares about Hachi. Throughout the early episodes and chapters of Nana, Junko frequently steps in to protect and comfort Hachi when she thinks the situation calls for it. This can be seen when she immediately leaps into action when Hachi breaks down in tears, drunk and distraught over memories of Asano in Episode 2, calming her down. This concern is seen again when Junko berates Shoji for hurting Hachi’s feelings and leaving Hachi alone in an unfamiliar place before rushing out to go find her. When Junko learns that Hachi plans to move in with Nana Osaki, who was practically a stranger at the time, she tries to convince (scare) Hachi into reconsidering the decision, concerned with how Hachi would manage and what kind of person Nana would turn out to be. Accepting defeat when Hachi stayed steadfast in her decision, she challenged (Hachi’s words) Yasu, trying to support Hachi by passive aggressively asserting Hachi’s right to the apartment when Hachi failed to do so to her standards.

Infantilisation and stifling growth

However, Junko’s protectiveness often crosses the line into infantilisation, an action which is a mixture of both care for Hachi and an unconscious subscription to societal perceptions of ‘femininity’, which ends up doing more harm than good.

Ai Yazawa makes a point of emphasising that Junko has known Hachi for a long time - she is familiar with her romantic struggles and emotionally dependent tendencies. But Yazawa also shows us from the start as well that Junko is immalleable. She is a character that does not bend to displays of emotion or whims - a foil to Hachi’s very passionate and dreamy personality. It becomes apparent from their interactions that Junko, after having been around Hachi a long time, internalised how Hachi behaves and acts to the point where she sees these traits as innate to Hachi as opposed to behaviours that have developed and formed over time. This strongly held perception of Hachi becomes a problem, as instead of encouraging growth ( which is what every healthy friendship accepts and promotes), Junko reinforces these observed traits, often treating Hachi as if she were a younger sibling or even a child. She seems “relieved” when someone else is there to “take care” of Hachi and even makes decisions on her behalf, such as revealing Hachi’s crush on Shoji despite Hachi making a conscious decision to not be romantically involved in anyone, assuming that Hachi does not have the scope to actually achieve the emotional goals she sets for herself.  

This dynamic consequently stifles and hinders Hachi’s ability to grow as an independent person throughout the anime, as Junko continues to see her through the lens of their shared past rather than as a peer. Even when Junko chastises Hachi for her lack of independence, she paradoxically expresses relief when someone else can ‘step in’ to care for her. This cycle of infantilisation keeps Hachi trapped in a dependent role within her friendships, and Junko’s inability to adjust her perception only reinforces these traits in Hachi. How people around you perceive and treat you influence how you subconsciously view yourself, and in Hachi’s case, she would see herself through Junko’s eyes as exasperating and hopelessly dependent. While Junko could very well believe her treatment stems from a deep and intimate understanding of Hachi, she in fact implies, most likely unintentionally, that Hachi is not capable of better. Junko's habit of infantilising Hachi repeatedly yet chastising her for the very thing Junko validates puts her in an endless pattern of being enabled, but not giving the genuine support when she does attempt to break the cycle. 

Internalised misogyny and and complicity to the status quo

At the root of Junko’s behaviour there is a subtle form of internalised misogyny that permeates throughout her interactions with Hachi. Hachi’s personality is characterised by dreaminess, emotionality, and dependence, and aligns with traditionally "feminine" traits that patriarchal societies often devalue. She is romantic, frivolous and dependent, and Junko, in contrast, is portrayed to be and see herself as more pragmatic and career-oriented, which she is shown to be aware of and even proud of in the anime and manga. She firmly corrects Hachi when Hachi hopes she will give up on her dreams of art school in Tokyo, and pursues her passions and career with dedication throughout the anime. Her more modern lifestyle ( living unmarried with her boyfriend and striving for her dream career) contrast heavily with her more conservative mindset with gender - through interactions between Hachi and Junko, we can see that she seems to have adopted a more ‘masculine’ role between the two of them, acting as the voice of reason and logic, traits which are stereotypically associated with masculinity ( haha). You can see that this patriarchal compartmentalisation of personality traits is something that Junko had internalised growing up through her interactions with Hachi, perceiving Hachi as hopeless and in need due to her personality, when in actuality we find out later that Hachi is perfectly capable of making decisions herself, and managing difficulty by herself (with more resilience that others can muster). While she surely does not always make the best options, she is able to adapt and persevere - not exactly the actions of a hopelessly dependent person.

This is a greatly nuanced decision on Yazawa’s front, as she perfectly depicts how growing up in a patriarchal society does not only influence male and female relations, but all - due to Junko growing up in a patriarchal society where women with ‘feminine’ traits are simultaneously taken care of and condescended, she too mimics and appropriates such beliefs and actions. The status quo in such societies ( like Japan in the time the manga is set)  are rigidly upheld yet at the same time result in the mocking and contempt of women who adhere to or fit the mould shaped and maintained by the same people who patronise them - and often times women are complicit in upholding harmful patriarchal ideals.  I think this is a refreshing (and depressingly realistic) depiction of relationships between women, as it perfectly captures the delicate and painful cognitive dissonance between caring for someone and not doing what is in their best interest due to internalised misogyny. 

A large aspect of internalised misogyny is putting male approval and attention on a pedestal, and Junko depicts such influences as well when she compares her love life to Hachi’s. She flaunts her alleged ability to form platonic male friendships without becoming romantically involved, ironically right before quickly entering into a relationship with Kyosuke. Junko then feels the need to justify her own quick decision of sleeping with and getting with Kyosuke to Hachi, showing a unconscious adherence to the notion that as a woman, getting with or attached to a relatively unknown man simply because of a desire to is a disdainful trait, and one that Junko makes a conscious effort to differentiate herself from - and not for Hachi. Hachi did not judge or even understand why Junko made such a fuss explaining; Junko’s attempts were more a form of self reassurance that she is not like the ‘others’ who are deemed undesirable and whorish ( a belief she holds due to her close interaction with patriarchy growing up). Junko is in fact not so different from Hachi, from what we can see from her actions in the anime and manga. We are told by her she does not attach herself romantically to men quickly, yet in the first instance possible we see otherwise. We see her look down on Hachi’s air-headed desire for a stereotypical, domestic relationship with a reliable man, while staying with Kyosuke throughout all the anime and manga, using him as a mode of support and guidance as well as a romantic and seemingly life partner. Her contempt of Hachi at times seems to be a reflection of her own insecurities with the aspects of her personality that do not fit the mould she wants - the aspects of her personality she was raised to see as less valuable and worthy and therefore grew up and internalised.

Junko’s internalised misogyny is also apparent in her loyalty to the men in her life, particularly in her defence of Shoji after he cheats on Hachi. Instead of holding Shoji accountable, Junko places the blame on Hachi, telling her that it was her fault for being too dependent, too self absorbed - too absent ( the very traits she was telling Hachi to adopt). This reaction reflects Junko’s struggle to justify her friendship with Shoji through her own internalised belief that women are responsible for men’s behaviour ( a common belief in patriarchal societies to take accountability away from men, instead vindicating and blaming the women involved). This scene serves to reveal Junko’s desire to preserve her own relationships and avoid conflict with male peers - by justifying Shoji’s actions, she maintains the comfort and security of her social circle, which includes her boyfriend Kyosuke, who is also Shoji’s best friend ( again rather similar to Hachi and her want of companionship) - she puts her male centred relationships on a pedestal at the expense of her female friendships and Hachi’s wellbeing.

Junko’s character serves as a window into the nuanced ways internalised misogyny, perception, and shared history can influence female friendships. Her dynamic with Hachi is shaped by her rigid perception of Hachi’s weaknesses and her own internalised biases about what traits are "acceptable" in women. While Junko is portrayed as a capable, independent woman—someone Hachi and other women can in some ways even looks up to—her patronising attitude ultimately undermines the potential of their relationship. Junko’s failure to see Hachi as an evolving, autonomous person perpetuates a cycle of dependence, preventing both women from growing as individuals and as friends, with Junko feeling equally responsible and burdened by Hachi but not allowing the relationship to develop beyond how it was in the past.

By portraying Junko, one of Hachi’s closest friends, as such a complex, multidimensional character, Ai Yazawa offers a compelling critique of the ways in which societal norms and internalised beliefs can distort relationships between women, and bring attention to topic that is often neglected yet experienced and lived by women universally. Junko’s story illustrates that it is not only overt sexism that influences women’s lives but also the more subtle, internalised forms of misogyny that shape how women perceive themselves and each other, and the pitfalls of relationships that remain stagnant in the past instead of allowing both parties to grow and flourish. 

[maoam]

Sakura is "the juice"

Some people might remember this interview where Kishi talked about writing characters and him using Sasuke as an example. And funnily enough, even non-shipper men on narutoforums immediately came to the conclusion that Sakura is the juice that Sasuke doesn't like, and Naruto is the tea that Sasuke likes.

"I want a character to behave like this --- if it's a juice situation where Sasuke wouldn't want to do it --- I need to create a different pattern/circumstance so the juice situation happens"

A good example of tea situations, Sasuke acknowledging and protecting Naruto where it comes naturally to him. "If tea shows up in a scene, he'll drink it". His "body just moves on its own" to protect Naruto:

Whereas with juice situation, it is like this. "If it's juice, I don't think he will drink it because he doesn't like it":

In order to make juice situation work, he will create a different circumstance:

Since Sasuke's body does not "move on its own" for Sakura, what Kishi will do is create a contrived circumstance where Sasuke HAS TO switch places with Sakura's vest in order to get out of the desert, so he appears right behind her, and she falls on him due to exhaustion, thus creating a scene. None of this would have been needed if Sasuke just instinctively protected Sakura like he does Naruto.

Because protecting someone you love is not about looking down on that person (like how SS tried to justify Sasuke's disinterest in protecting Sakura). This is something Naruto had to learn. In the beginning, Naruto did not like being saved by Sasuke because it made him feel inferior.

However, Sasuke did "die" for Naruto later in the same arc because Naruto was important to him.

Kishi brought what Haku said here back in the war arc, where Naruto brings it up to Sasuke.

And Naruto understands now. And that's why he likes it. Because he knows it means Sasuke loves him. That's why Kishi also made sure to give Naruto a reaction whenever Sasuke protected him during the war arc.

Because as I said instinctively protecting the person you love is not about "looking down on them" but about loving them. It's an INSTINCT. Something Sasuke did not have for Sakura during the war arc, because Kishi knew it would have been out of character for him. Which is why Kishi had to make that contrived scenario in order to create a "moment" SS wet their pants over.

[genericpuff]

What is the thing you feel like Lore Olympus failed at or did the worst. The comic has a magnitude of problems but what is one problem that you have the most hatred for or just flat out makes you angry?

(Just curious)

There are so, so many things I could point to as "the worst" thing that the comic did, because it has a LOT of worsts, but I think ultimately the failing of the original myth's messaging has to take the cake because it's ultimately the root of all of LO's problems.

Rachel herself seems to have this disconnect between what's going on in her head vs. what she's actually writing. It's especially present in her Q&A's and interviews where she claims certain things about the comic / text that just aren't present in the slightest during the actual comic. One such example that ties into my answer is this response she gave to Girl Wonder Podcast:

"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time"

It's ironic at best and tone deaf at worst that she would claim that it's her audience being harsh on the female characters, when she's the one who wrote them into the characters they are that would get that reaction. Minthe had her BPD retconned so now she's just the abusive other girl. Hestia was turned into a cruel hypocrite when it was revealed she was a lesbian. Hera is racist to nymphs and cruel to the lower class and yet she's still rewarded in the end by getting to run off with a nymph girl who we've never seen her have any extended interaction with. And worst of all, Demeter was robbed of all of her agency all in favor of turning her into the evil Mother Gothel mom who's overbearing and cruel to poor Persephone. Some of these women deserve to be called out (Hera and Hestia), and others like Minthe and Demeter were simply used as props to do exactly what Rachel claims she doesn't like people doing and is labelling as sexism - to get harsh reactions and give the audience someone to hate on. Rachel desperately needs to learn to read her own work. Her audience is "sexist" towards these women because Rachel wrote them that way.

It fucking sucks and it's, ngl, extremely disrespectful to the messaging of the original myth that was written to comfort and empower the mothers who had lost their daughters to marriages back in the day. It wasn't some simple "aww the girl moved out and now she doesn't visit anymore!" girls who got married off were often literally never seen again and it wasn't by choice. Not only that, but in certain regions (such as in Athens) the women were isolated to their own section of the house upstairs (while the men lived downstairs) so that they wouldn't be seen by visiting guests or strangers.

It's why in some cultures the original H x P myth was considered a "golden standard" for marriages (at the time) because not only was Persephone given power over the domain alongside Hades, but she actually did get to see her mother - but it wasn't because Hades was just such a kind guy who would let her go willingly, it's because Demeter had to literally hold the world hostage and fight for her right to reunite with her child.

So for LO to not only twist Demeter's love and justifiable concern for her daughter into "helicopter parenting", but also rob her of her agency and power in fighting for her child, it fundamentally misses the entire point of the original myth and undoes itself as a retelling that's trying to be taken seriously in the discussion of Greek myth media. And for that, Rachel should be ashamed of herself.

[siolixz]

ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

+18

Part 2

<Part 1> <Part 3: final>

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and she changed based on everything around her.

Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 pls take everything with a grain of salt. Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive. 

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

 You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.  

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames. 

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.” 

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

 Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him. 

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you. 

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking?  That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz? 

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now.  You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger. 

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die. 

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

 He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you. 

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”,  he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair.  You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

 He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

 He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that. 

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

 This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working. 

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

 Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened. 

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue. 

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex. 

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this. 

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog. 

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. 

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again. 

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.” 

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen. 

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

 You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements. 

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him. 

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you. 

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure.  “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you. 

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

[autumnmobile12]

The League of Morons vs A Summer Camp

All right, so I love the hell out of this nonsense and I want to talk about the Vanguard's plan and how ridiculous it was.

First, most of the crew showed up a night early and…well, then what?  That first night, Dabi says they’re still waiting on a few more people to arrive.  Okay, so what are you all doing here already?

Did Kurogiri warp them back to the bar after they’d gotten a look at the place?  Scouted the area a bit?  You needed seven people for that? Were they that bored waiting for Twice, Compress, and the Nomu to show up?  What were they doing in the 24 hours between this part and the actual attack?  Standing on that cliff and muttering,  “Heroes…”?

Was Toga all, "Guys, I'm tired. Can we go back to the bar already?"

Spinner: "No, as villain protocol dictates, we must stand here menacingly for a minimum of twelve hours."

Dabi: Fuck you, I'm going to bed.

Except for being a scare tactic, having Dabi start a fire was mostly unnecessary. Their goal was to further weaken society's faith in heroes by targeting UA students, so you'd think he'd be a little more proactive in...well, actually harming someone. As it happened, the fire really only to served to announce there was an attack happening.

But I’ll throw the Vanguard a bone here and say this was Spinner’s doing.  Like their original plan was to start a massive fire that would consume both classes and all the heroes in a singular tragedy, but then Spinner said,  “Hey, pump the breaks, people.  We’re here to uphold Stain’s ideals about toppling the corrupt Hero culture.  Do we really want mass child murder as part of our brand?” Sure, he wanted to go after Iida, but he was a specific target since he was on Stain's hit list.

The two copies Twice made of Dabi were virtually useless in a fight since Vlad and Aizawa both took him out so quickly it was embarrassing.  And yet he’s apparently a big enough threat that No. 1 and No 2. can’t handle him.  Go fig.

Endeavor/Hawks:  Oh, no, he’s too strong…

Aizawa/Vlad:  Listen here, you little shit!

...

Muscular goes and reveals their plan even though he didn’t have to.  They all saw the Sports Festival, they knew what Bakugo looked like, and yet here he is asking Deku where he he can find Bakugo as if he was going to answer him.  Yes, he didn’t think there was any harm in telling him since his plan was to kill Deku anyway, but alerting UA to the fact they were looking to kidnap someone is still just hubris.

Going after Bakugo in the first place was a dumb idea.  We can probably credit that one to Shigaraki because only he would look at the violently temperamental teenager raging on national television and think,  “Yes, he seems like a reasonable person to negotiate with.”

...

Gonna drop in some actual light criticism here: Given the inequality issues that arise in the series later, targeting the heteromorph students for recruitment purposes would have been a smarter move for the LoV.  They’re all part of a demographic that has a justified reason for being dissatisfied with society, so there would have been a believable chance of the LoV thinking they could sway some people to their side.

But hey, the League of Villains was on a learning curve. Give 'em a break.

He totally saw Aoyama here.  Or at least he heard him because he clocked that there was something weird about that bush and he was going to go check it out…and then Twice distracted him and Dabi has an total ADHD moment and forgets what he was doing.

And it's not because Aoyama was the spy. Nobody in the Vanguard knew.

1.) Shigaraki says he tried and couldn't figure out where the camp was, but AFO figured it out relatively quickly. So if even his successor doesn't know who the spy was or called on that resource, then why would AFO tell anyone else in the group?

2.) Moonfish, Muscular, and Mustard were all apprehended, but none of them ratted out Aoyama, as someone with nothing left to lose would. Neither did Kurogiri when he was later apprehended, but that one may have been a loyalty matter. So I think this was a case of AFO saying, "I have a source of info and you don't need to know who it is." Because at the end of the day, AFO is an arrogant narcissist who's definitely not placing all his eggs in one basket. Aoyama wouldn't be an easy spy to replace, so of course AFO would want to limit any chances of him being exposed.

So this was Dabi's screw up.

Speaking of forgetting things, Dabi also straight up forgot they had a Nomu because he thanked Twice for reminding him they had a Nomu.

Sir....how the hell do you forget you have a Nomu?

Toga was supposed to get blood from at least three people.  She failed.

Twice had a simple job. Create clones. He succeeded, but the only two he made were Dabi and I refer you to the previous point on how useless they were.

Spinner and Magne’s roles were a diversion. Distract the Wild, Wild Pussycats and give everyone else the opening to find and kidnap Bakugo.

They did pretty well. Up until the point they were almost caught and Kurogiri had to bail them out. Also Spinner lugged the giant, over-the-top blade contraption all the way there only for Deku to destroy it.

However, they do deserve some credit for making probably the best strategic decision of the group that night, and that was taking out Pixie Bob. We saw on the first day of the camp that she was able to hold back a class of twenty students with an army of earth creatures she was simultaneously controlling. That would have been a huge problem, so for the purposes of their team, good on them for removing that obstacle.

Underrated squad members right here.

Mustard was a legitimate threat for same reasons Dabi and his fire was a threat, plus he brought a firearm into the fight. (I want to know what the other villains thought when they saw that.)

But instead of putting him in the center of the fight where he could do some significant harm, they placed him on the outliers and all he did was knock some students unconscious and everybody made a full physical recovery, showcasing the gas he emitted wasn’t all that lethal and didn't cause any long-term complications. (Again, maybe this was Spinner's idea of Stain's ideology on not indiscriminately massacring children. "Guys, I'm telling you! That's fucked up!")

The Nomu (effectively brain dead without orders) did more damage than any of them, which makes the previous point that Dabi forgot they had it even funnier.

And finally, Mr. Compress was missing for half the night and then almost came in clutch by fulfilling their main objective plus extra credit, only to nearly blow it with his showboating. Seriously, they could have gotten away with both Bakugo and Tokoyami had they just booked it while the going was good.

But no, Compress had to make a dramatic production of it. When he first snatched the kids, he could have just left and Deku and company would have had no idea what happened. Had he just kept his mouth shut and left, they wouldn't have known he even existed. Then as the Vanguard members were leaving through the warp gates, he goes and does it again, giving Aoyama enough time to fire at them with his navel laser, something that also could have bee avoided had Dabi just checked the fucking bush!

The Vanguard Action Squad won by sheer dumb luck and their collective incompetence actually succeeding is the most hilarious thing about this arc. In the end, three members of their crew were arrested.  (Although I think everyone was secretly relieved they lost Moonfish.  Even if he was on my side, I’d be actively worried that guy would kill and eat me in my sleep.)

Yet this self-important twerp is smiling like they actually did something to be proud of here.  All Dabi really accomplished personally was grab a marble (coincidentally the correct marble) before Shouto could, which is borderline more standard older sibling behavior than actual villainy. He literally lost two separate fights in one night and called it a win.

This arc was a five episode Scooby-Doo trap going wrong and succeeding.

Seriously, I hope that after the warp gates closed, they all just looked at each other and immediately started calling each other out on everything. Like Dabi slapped Compress upside the head and asked him what he'd been thinking having 'one last bow' before they got away. Spinner yelling at Dabi about how the clones did nothing. And there's Bakugo all, "I can't believe I've been kidnapped by a gaggle of morons."

Fake it till you make it at its finest.

[sophie-frm-mars]

I just wanna gush about DBT for a second

DBT saved my life so I'm gonna spend a moment telling everyone how helpful it can be because I know there are a lot of people with BPD out there who need to hear it.

so cluster B personality disorders are characterised by, among other things "unrelenting crisis" - this is the combination of the feeling that every small problem you encounter is just yet more insurmountable bullshit and the reality that you have a lot of bad shit going on in your life, some of caused by the wider world beyond your control and inevitably some of it self-inflicted. The problem is, to someone who is constantly activated and feels life as this kind of non stop catastrophe, it's really hard to practice skills learned in therapy to do anything about it AND it feels impossible to judge what is an appropriate thing to spend your energy on, where to even begin tackling your problems.

The group component of DBT is explicitly justified in the therapists' manual as tackling this, which I think is genius. A borderline patient will bring new problems to their therapist every week and not focusing on them will trigger feelings of abandonment but the patient will definitely have forgotten all about this problem and moved onto a new one by next session or the one after so you have two therapies, one talk therapy one-on-one and the other a group setting like a class where you learn the DBT skills, and then in the group setting no patient feels like they're being especially ignored by the therapist because they're all there to learn the skills as peers. I just think that's really clever

The bit that really whips though is the skills around Accumulating positive experiences and Building mastery. Okay so your life feels like shit, right? Like one shit thing after another? Your therapy is to have a nice time and get better at something in a way that makes you proud. There's a whole acronym for the skills you need to use to keep yourself well, ABC PLEASE, but C and PLEASE are all essentially preventative skills to stop you having an actively bad time or worsening your mental health, and A and B (Accumulate positive experiences, Build mastery) are the ones where you're proactively creating your life worth living and I love it so much.

Accumulating Positive Experiences really does just mean having a nice time in an intentional way. It can literally be watching TV, it can be whatever you want, but you approach it thinking about what will make good experiences that will actively make you feel like you are leading a life worth living. My girlfriend and I went to the planetarium and took edibles last month and it owns so hard that according to DBT that's therapy

Building Mastery is all about helping you get a sense of momentum and direction by improving at something, ideally something that isn't also what you do for work. I know "get a hobby" seems like such basic advice for helping someone out of a rough time but like I've been bouldering since early last year and seeing myself get better at it has been impossibly good for me.

I've been getting into cooking this year as one of my Building mastery practices, at first just regularish like "how can I feed myself in a way that feels like I'm showing myself care at all" like finally learning how to make some of the comfort foods I had in childhood like beef stew, or trying out new things on my very basic salmon, potatoes and broccolli, like teriyaki glaze on broccolli or making hasselback potatoes. Then after a while it became a thing where I felt confident enough to actually thing about a little project and do it like around when my gf and I started officially dating I made her roast lamb and dauphinoise potatoes (nothing photographs well, sorry in advance lol), or we started rewatching Twin Peaks and I really wanted cherry pie so I made my own, which I had never done before!

and at the same time as improving at that stuff I felt like I was good enough at it that cooking for other people was a way I could show them care, which was something I had always wanted but never put in the time to making a reality.

In The Endings Machine: Technology & Teleology I talked about how cooking vegan food in groups is more effective in several ways that going vegan yourself and afterwards my sister (who helped with recording) said to me and a friend "I've been thinking about this ever since filming, we should do this!" and we've been holding a rotating vegan group meal at other's places fortnightly since then, and it's been really good! (This idea btw was partly inspired by my time on the ZAD where communal living leads to group cooking on a rotation, mostly vegan) For the first one I made a spicy mushroom pasta, then I had to bring the dessert to one and I made a vegan chocolate tart with coconut milk instead of dairy making a coconut chocolate filling and it was SOOO good

Last week the vegan meal was at mine again and it fell on halloween so we invited more people and arranged a little spooky movie screening and I made SOOO much food and it was all fucking fantastic. My gf and I made dhal makhani, aubergine rice, parathas, vegan raita and onion bhajis and served them with some mango chutney and some oven-cook samosas that were just from big tesco. I'm so fucking proud of myself, I've never cooked this much before and it went so well! I guess what I really want to get across is how looking at this from the DBT perspective I gotta get across how good this shit is for your mental health and how absurdly well it dovetails with building community.

There are all sorts of other ways Accumulating positive experiences and Building mastery help, because DBT is a very holistic approach to helping people get better - like if you know what things you like doing and you plan them to be available to you, you know that you're going to be happy with your own company, which means if you're having a shit time around someone else you're happy saying "I would be having a better time being alone right now" and just leaving. That makes it easier to live up to your self-respect goals, which are a big part of the DBT interpersonal effectiveness skills, as well as helping to tackle every cluster B girlie's deep seated fear of abandonment.

I could go on an on, but the salient thing right now is that there are a lot of people struggling with stuff I relate to as someone who has had my shit rocked by Borderline Personality Disorder for years and years, and I know that the biggest feeling at core is like "what is this all for? what is the thing that we are all trying to do in the space we are chaotically scrabbling to try to clear all the time?" and this is the answer: you want to accumulate positive experiences and build mastery, and when you get to doing it you have such a profoundly more grounded sense of being in the world, of what it is that's worth being here for and what stands in the way of life just being like that for everyone and a more meaningful drive to try and make it be that way for everyone.

I also wanna go on and on about how Interpersonal Effectiveness makes everyone better at organising too, but I think the Life Worth Living is the better sales pitch for DBT. idk in short a close friend pitched it to me a little while ago that all leftists should learn DBT and it would make the revolution way easier and the more I live of my life worth living the more I agree.

[humanpurposes]

I really feel like the writers of HotD could benefit from keeping in mind the phrase "don't play the ending."

At the end of season one, Alicent has Aegon crowned King and puts herself physically between him and a dragon.

And all through season two she's having a miserable time. From episode one she straight up dislikes her sons, is terrified of Aemond, is hooking up with Cole and feeling guilty about it, is feeling guilty about Rhaenyra, feeling guilty about the war, constantly being undermined... but is there actually a moment where the stakes escalate for her? Jaehearys dies while she was doing the dirty with Criston, but she already felt guilty about that. She feels sorry for Helaena, but she already struggles in her relationship with Helaena. She hates Aegon and thinks he'd be a bad King, but she already hated Aegon and thought he'd be a bad King. Then she doesn't want to start a war, but she already did that by naming her son King over Rhaenya. She gets dismissed from the Small Council by Aemond but in the first episode she's already aware that none of the men around her actually respect her. So what is she doing here? What does she want? How is she relevant to the story aside from looking sad and feeling all this guilt for a conflict that is way more complex than her misunderstanding the final words of her rotting husband?

At the end of season one, Rhaenyra learns that her son is dead after she's been hesitant to let the conflict come to all out war. In that final shot of epsiode 10 she's full of anguish and rage. I'm thinking "cool, so when the story picks up again she's going to be ready for war."

But then she's spent so much of season two stalling because she doesn't want to incite bloodshed because war is bad. And she can't justify getting revenge for her son but she can justify letting hundreds die because of some dream her ancestor had. She wants the throne but she's hesitant to fight for it.

There's such a disconnect between where we left off and where we picked up, because there's no starting point in the character arcs. Alicent will become haunted by grief and guilt, oh so lets do that from episode one. Rhaenyra wants to be Queen and was vilified by the fictional history, so lets absolve her of her wrongs and effectively remove her agency.

And my boy Aemond... I love the idea of him feeling remorseful about Luke's death but knowing that he can't appear weak, and so losing his humanity more and more to this image of a Kinslayer. But the execution leaves a lot to be desired for me. I would LOVE to have seen this through his family relationships. Let him have a conversation with Helaena, when her son was murdered as revenge for someone he killed. Let us see the distance growing between him immediately after he comes back from Storm's End. It was clearly the intention all along that Aemond was going to become "the villain" of the series and I love that, but if he's going to feel like he has no choice but to "dracarys" his brother, boot his mum off the Small Council and then leave his family undefended by flying off with Vhagar, I want that to feel earned. (also I want my fav to have more screen time obvs) but I would love for his scenes to have more room to breathe, like the only interaction he's had with Helaena was a scene that was one sentence long, I AM SUFFERING HERE.

In a season with only 8 episodes the pacing is crazy. We've skipped over what clearly was a crucial few days between 1.10 and 2.01. We've got characters stalling for no apparent reason. Simultaneously we're rushing through scenes and character interactions to move on to the next thing. It's genuinely frustrating to watch. Kudos to all the actors doing an amazing job with the script they've been given.

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it. 

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more. 

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.” 

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.” 

“You need some time to think about it?” 

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?” 

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad. 

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals. 

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.” 

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that. 

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”   

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard. 

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink. 

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.” 

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.” 

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly. 

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better. 

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?” 

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.  

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?” 

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?” 

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later. 

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary. 

“Easier said than done, believe me.” 

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.” 

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”  

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying. 

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside. 

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.” 

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale. 

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?” 

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly. 

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high. 

“But none of them are you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit. 

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.” 

“Including you?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?” 

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?” 

“My gut.” 

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.” 

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road. 

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him. 

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak. 

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s. 

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw. 

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!” 

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for. 

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home. 

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.  

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old. 

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.   

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok. 

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night. 

You did good today, sticking to your guns. 

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early. 

You’ve got somewhere to be.  

As it turns out, Tex  was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots. 

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands. 

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much. 

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath. 

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need. 

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?” 

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats. 

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back. 

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.” 

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing. 

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides. 

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?” 

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself. 

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things. 

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?” 

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.” 

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.” 

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.” 

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand. 

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.” 

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”  

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit. 

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses. 

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.” 

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?” 

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.  

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.” 

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?” 

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.” 

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.” 

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.” 

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.” 

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar. 

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest. 

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea. 

“Want to split a funnel cake?” 

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin. 

“Yeah.” 

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you. 

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late. 

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.” 

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off. 

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way. 

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first. 

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside. 

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?” 

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease. 

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?” 

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest. 

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.” 

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.” 

 He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.” 

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress. 

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore. 

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares. 

“Haunted house?” 

“No way.”

“Swings?” 

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?” 

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.” 

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.  

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds. 

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here. 

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all. 

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see. 

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”  

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.” 

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.” 

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.” 

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him. 

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.” 

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him. 

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes. 

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.” 

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away. 

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter. 

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side. 

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile. 

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half. 

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.  

“Sure it is, sweetheart.” 

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer. 

“Tex?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours. 

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you. 

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it. 

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone. 

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust. 

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.” 

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date. 

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?” 

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy. 

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”    

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!” 

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” 

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter. 

“I’m ok.” 

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head. 

“Tex…” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.” 

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead. 

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.” 

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?” 

“I guess…I can’t stop you.” 

“Would you want to though?” 

Therein lay the million dollar question. 

“Maybe not?” 

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.” 

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo. 

“Tex…” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month. 

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him.