#I was complaining about ireland

[blood-orange-juice]

*cackles*

(people googling "emigration" after seeing exit polls)

[levil0vesyou]

Americans stop forgetting there's countries in Europe other than England challenge

[alighted-willow]

Whilst I avoid both going to bed and my academics, I thought it a good time to say that when an American says they're “restoring a language” or “of X ethnicity”, they don’t mean they're from X. They know their nationality, they know where they were born, that's not the point.

When someone says they're Irish and are from America, it's just shorthand for “Irish American”. We put everything in a shortened form here because we all know what we mean and collectively remove redundancy.

When we say we're learning Z language because we're X, we don't mean it in terms of exoticism. The only people who do that are ignorant kids and folks who are going through a cultural/identity crisis. The rest of us are trying to learn these languages because our predecessors lost them or had them trained out. It is a dead language to us because these parts of us have been killed off, that's why it's a revival.

While I do research, I often hear people say something around the lines that “You are where you're from, not where your predecessors are from” which is true, to a certain extent. I am an American, a U.S. citizen. If U.S. culture was a bit more similar to how most other places in the world did it, I would say that I was from X state, an Xian. Here, though, we are more defined by our subcultures; little pockets of pooling culture brought in from where we originally hale.

This probably wouldn’t be the case if most of us had come here out of a desire to be here rather than having been forced out of our homelands. My family came here around 1930 and our records say it was because of food insecurity caused by a failed crop (and a surprise frost). The folks who settled the U.S.? Genocidal assholes, fuck 'em.

But back to the point. When someone says they're trying to get in touch with their culture— we're not trying to be you. We're trying to get back what was forced out of the people before us in order to survive over here. Our families came here with what they had and our culture has changed throughout the years. St. Patrick's day is odd (especially since Patrick was colonizing Ireland) and is over the top; that is the point. Not a single one of us thinks that to be Irish is to be bathed in clovers, downing alcohol, and belting about rainbows. It's a noxious, loud, proud declaration that we're still here. It is, at least by its origins, a public protest.

[main-character-moment]

Just back from pride and there was a concert and some lovely performances (unfortunately there were many I couldn’t stick around for)

But as the opening act was doing the final song, a group of Palestinian protesters barrelled up onto stage with their banners, and while all the performers held their own well for the most part and were able to finish the performance, it still knocked everyone off balance.

They then stayed onstage and interrupted the next segment to talk about Palestine and how it’s a genocide. How many of the organisations funding pride this year were supporting Israel. And while I know that’s so important and needs to be talked about, it made everyone uncomfortable. No one forgot Palestine at the parade! As far as I could see (considering I missed some of it), nearly all of the groups and floats marching had at least one Palestine flag, and many were chanting and had banners supporting Palestine. There was a lot of support for Ukraine as well, which no one is talking about as much (as far as I’ve seen) since it’s been overshadowed.

It was lashing rain. Everyone was soaked and there was little shelter or seating available, and it was taking a lot from people to stay at the celebrations in th weather, and the mood immediately dropped.

If it wasn’t for the amazing drag king who came on after they were finally ushered off giving an inspiring impromptu speech about the topic and tying it back to pride, I don’t think the choir that came on after would’ve been able to recover the mood on their own.

[empress-hancock]

The fandom weirdos are making posts about how complaints about Luis were racist. That man is Spanish he’s from Spain he’s white he’s from the village where the game begins, in Spain. People from Spain are white he is not Mexican he is from Spain it isn’t racist it can’t be racist he’s fucking white he’s from SPAIN

[sad--tree]

i have GOT to get out of the house and be more social like, asap. absolutely imperative i start 2 minimize the amount of time stuck at home w/ parents esp now my brother is moving out......

[ramshitposts]

reminder cause I haven't liveblogged on this blog in a bit that most of my liveblog posts are shit and/or talk about a point immediately cleared up after the fact so if something makes no sense sorry for party rocking

[atsushis-fangs]

North: laird Campbell, I fucked up, big time.

Past Scotland: given your daily life experiences, you'll have to be more specific.

@winterwrites23 reread the entire fic once again on a flight and got hit by a huge wave of ideas

[zwampy]

#if this is your situation you should absolutely try to figure out who is doing it though#and esp if you're following a schedule you should try to do it in pairs and keep an eye out for them#a lot of people who put up fascist stickers and flyers#are itching for a chance to do violence against the minorities they are trying to incite violence against#also. making a signal chat is good for this. if you see one sticker on the way to work someone else can come and check the area etc

tags @guildenstern

also consider that these people have to order/print these stickers or flyers, whereas we only need to remove them. kill their stride.

and most everyone knows this by now but always be careful of hidden blades.

To anyone wondering if it's worth it to tear down fascist posters or whatever. I spent a few months last year engaged in silent battle with another student at my school who was putting anti trans stickers up everywhere. I had it down to a system where every night I would walk the five block radius they went up in, and tear down all the ones I could reach, and use a stick to put duct tape over the others. Like, within hours of the stickers going up, I would have already purged the whole zone. I knew the basic schedule of whoever put them up based on when and where the stickers appeared. I probably could have found them in person if I'd wanted to. And I told all my classmates and friends what the stickers looked like and got them to rip them down too. And after a few months of this, the stickers slowed, and then stopped forever.

My point is, a lot of this fashy or right wing stuff is one local weirdo. And if you pay attention, and do a little light organizing with your friends, you can basically make their efforts into a giant sisyphisean exercise in misery. You control your streets!

[gunnerfc]

Consequences | Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader (18+)

Summary: Katie overhears you claiming to be the more dominant one in the bedroom and has to put you in your place

Warnings: semi-public sex (not the whole fic), edging, fingering (r receiving), teasing from Katie, strap use (r receiving), Katie calling r “good girl” and “slut”, strap sucking

WC: 2.7K

AN: posting this a bit later than I originally planned </3 

You were sat at a table in a loud pub with Steph, Lia, and Beth laughing at some of your teammates butcher a Taylor Swift song in a round of karaoke. Arsenal had just won the Conti Cup final and everyone decided that getting drinks and celebrating together was the best thing to do. You giggled to yourself watching Katie forget all the lyrics when it was her turn to sing, knowing it was definitely the alcohol she had consumed. 

Lia’s eye caught the love in your eyes as you stared at your girlfriend with a bright smile. “You and Katie are really cute! It’s sweet seeing how different she is off the pitch with you,” the midfielder all but shouted over the loud music. You tore your eyes from the group at the front of the room, Steph and Beth offering words of agreement with Lia.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like being a bit messy. Perhaps scoring the winning goal was affecting you more than you thought. “Please, Katie is nothing like how she is on the pitch, you’d be surprised at what I could get her to do,” you smirked, throwing your teammates a teasing wink as you took a sip of your drink.

“That’s a bit surprising, you don’t have a commanding bone in your body, babe,” Beth laughed as she sipped her drink. You gasped dramatically at her words, earning a laugh from Steph and Lia as well. 

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you won’t even argue with a ref when you have the right to,” the Aussie added more insult to injury. You knew they were right, and you definitely knew Katie was the dominant one in your relationship, but hearing how your friends didn’t think you could be made you eager to continue the lie.

“I’ll have you three know that Katie is not the same person at home,” you huffed. While trying to convince your friends about something you knew to be untrue, you failed to realize your teammates who were doing karaoke had made their way back to the table. Others were still at the bar, chatting among themselves where they could actually hear each other.

None of you noticed the sly smirk on Katie’s face as she overheard your conversation. She found it entertaining that you thought you could be in charge in the bedroom, and it was even more comical that your teammates didn’t really believe you. 

“You good, babe,” Katie said as she took her seat next to you, a teasing glint in her eye when you jerked your head toward her. 

“Hi, baby! You sounded so good up there,” you knew she heard you just by the way she was looking at you and you knew she wouldn’t let you live it down. Katie laughed at your praises, you were in for it when the two of you got home. Though, a part of Katie wanted to tease you about your comments now, rather than wait. 

Katie waited until your teammates were distracted with new conversations before she leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “Meet me in the bathroom in a minute, love,” her accent laced with command, knowing you would listen. You nodded your head subtly as she stood from the table and headed towards the bathrooms. 

You let your teammates return to their conversations so they wouldn’t notice you were leaving the table as well. Your breathing picked up as you walked towards the bathroom, your heart was breathing against your chest as desire filled your body. You didn’t think Katie was going to be nice enough to give an orgasm so soon, but who were you to complain about your girlfriend making you cum.

The bathrooms were empty aside from the Ireland captain leaning against one of the stalls. The stall wasn’t the best size to do anything but seeing Katie’s smirk with a slight head tilt as she pushed the door in some, you didn’t care how small it was. You quickly entered the small cubicle, Katie joining you as she locked the stall, not that it really mattered. 

Before you could even plead your case, your girlfriend’s lips were on yours in a heated kiss. Your mouth moved against hers, Katie easily gaining dominance over you. You were grateful her lips were on yours as a loud moan threatened to escape your mouth. Katie’s hands held your waist tightly as she pushed you against the side of the stall. Your hands moved to wrap around her shoulders as your hips started rolling against her.

Katie pulled back when she felt your hips moving, her hands pushing you further against the siding to stop their movements. “What do you think you're doing, love,” she asked, fake confusion gracing her features. 

“Please, Katie! I’m sorry for lying to them, please just do something,” you whined lowly, hoping she would decide to be a bit nicer tonight. Katie laughed softly at your words, this was just the beginning for her. 

“Since you asked nicely,” she smirked as she moved one of her hands to the buttons on your jeans, easily undoing them without a second thought. Your heart was thumping against your chest in anticipation, waiting for her fingers to reach where you needed her most. 

You tilted your head back against the siding of the stall as Katie traced a finger over the top of your underwear leaving a blazing trail against your cool skin. You tried to jerk your hips forward but her hand that remained on your waist kept you from doing so. Just as you were about to beg again, Katie’s hand dipped under the waistband and ran up and down your dripping core.

The defender didn’t give you a warning before two of her fingers pushed into you. You had to control your volume as she moved her hand, thrusting lightly into you. Katie set a slow pace as she worked her fingers inside you and leaned forward to attach her lips to your exposed neck. One of your hands moved to tangle in her hair as she sucked harsh bruise-like marks along the side and column of your neck.

“Do ya enjoy this, you lyin’ slut,” she mumbled against your skin as kissed up toward your jaw. Your eyes rolled back at her words mixed with the agonizingly slow thrust of her fingers. You knew she wasn’t looking for an answer, she just wanted you to know your place. 

Begging for her to go fast would get you nowhere, knowing Katie she would stop altogether if you asked for more. Through heavy breaths and low moans, you focused on how close you were to coming. Katie could sense you were close, she’d given you enough orgasms to know how to read your body for signs. But she wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easy.

Just as you were about to cum, Katie pulled her fingers out of your tight cunt. You cried out at the loss of contact just as you were about to let go but Katie paid you mind as she redid the buttons on your jeans. As you opened your mouth to complain, her fingers that were previously inside you were shoved in your mouth. She didn’t have to tell you what to do as you sucked her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of yourself on them.

“Since you’re in a lying mood tonight, love, go tell the girls you don’t feel well and we’re gonna head home,” Katie ordered with a menacing smirk on her face as she pulled her fingers from your mouth. 

You didn’t speak, only nodding your head obediently. The quicker you could leave, the quicker you could get home and Katie would let you cum. Katie let go of your waist and moved so you could exit the stall first. You made your way back to the table a bit uncomfortably, you were beyond dripping and it was driving you crazy.

“Hey guys, I think we are gonna head out, I’m not feeling too good,” you spoke over the loud music, hoping you were convincing the team. A few of them made an ‘aw’ sound while others wished you well. Katie quickly waved goodbye to the team as you joined her at the entrance. You were in for a long car ride full of even more teasing.

When you reached Katie’s car she quickly opened the door for you, giving you a big grin when you got in the car. A minute later the two of you were off, heading back to your shared apartment. Katie had one hand on the steering wheel and the other held tightly to your thigh, squeezing it every so often.

“It’s not nice to lie to your friends, y’know,” the defender spoke, not even sparing you a glance. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the remarks she was going to make.

“Not gonna respond, are we, love,” she chuckled as she stopped at a red light. Katie turned her head in your direction, watching your chest heave and your thighs attempting to rub against each other. She tightened her grip on your thigh, stopping you from succeeding in finding a bit of relief.

“I could,” you mumbled softly, “be in charge,” you finished with a deep breath. The lack of contact where you needed it most was getting to you and you weren’t sure how long you could last whenever Katie decided to finally give in.

Katie laughed sarcastically at your words as the light turned green and she took off. “You heard Steph if you can’t argue with a ref when you should, what makes you think you’d be able to boss me around,” the Ireland captain taunted with a grin.

You knew she was right but a small part of you believed that you could if you were given the chance. Though tonight would not be that night. The rest of the car was silent, Katie’s hand stayed on your thigh and you felt yourself growing wetter by the second.

You said a silent thank you when you pulled up to your apartment building, thankful that you were a bit closer to an orgasm. You and Katie rode the elevator in silence, both of you going over what was about to happen when you got inside your apartment. 

Katie quickly unlocked the door and you were pulled inside at lightning speed. Your back met the door roughly once it was closed and Katie’s lips were on yours once again. She easily won control of the kiss, you were too desperate to fight her. You let your girlfriend guide you through the apartment, her lips never leaving yours. 

When you reached the bedroom is when you were given the chance to breathe again. Katie pulled back from you before she all but shoved you toward the bed. “Be a good girl and strip,” her strong voice echoed around the room and she didn’t bother to watch as she moved toward the nightstand to get the girthy strap she liked to use when she deemed you to be ‘bad,’ 

You quickly got out of your clothes, tossing them wherever you could. You stood at the foot of the bed, naked and ready for the next order from the defender. Katie took her time taking off her own clothes and getting the toy situated around her hips. When she was done, she joined you at the foot of the bed while her eyes took in your naked form.

“Knees,” was all she ordered and you dropped to the carpeted floor. Katie held the toy near the end, holding it up toward your mouth and without needing further instruction, you took the toy into your mouth. 

You hollowed your cheeks as you sucked, taking the toy as far as you could before you started gagging. Katie had her hands in your hair while she rocked her hips forward, helping the toy go further down your throat. You were dripping down your thighs, and having Katie fuck your throat was affecting you greatly.

After a few minutes, Katie let go of your hair as she pulled the toy from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting your lips to the toy drew a deep groan from the woman standing above you. You waited on your knees for your girlfriend to tell you what to do before she motioned to the end of the bed.

You moved off the floor quickly as you lay on the bed, letting your legs dangle off the end. Katie used her foot to kick your legs open and you moaned lowly at the cool feeling on your wet cunt. Katie moved in between your legs and pulled them up to wrap around her waist. 

The defender ran the tip of the toy through your folds, teasingly pushing it in a little bit. You whined at the feeling, it wasn’t enough and if something didn’t happen soon you were going to cum around nothing. Katie lined the toy up with your cunt before she pushed it in, using her hips to push it further into you. Her hands held your hips tightly and she didn’t waste any time before her hips snapped against yours.

Your hands held the top cover in a tight grip, your knuckles turning white as loud moans spilled from your lips. Katie’s movements didn’t start slow, she immediately started pounding into you quickly. “Good girls don’t lie, bad sluts do. Are you a bad slut,” your girlfriend questioned as her skin hit yours.

You couldn’t formulate a sentence, high-pitched moans were too busy escaping your mouth. Katie squeezed your hips as she angled her hips slightly to hit that familiar spot inside you. A loud gasp echoed off the walls at the feeling, if she kept hitting that spot you were going to be coming soon. 

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll be a good girl! P-please let me cum,” you croaked out in between moans, tears falling down the sides of your face. 

“I don’t think you deserve to cum,” Katie said as she moved one of her hands to push down on your lower stomach. Your moans turned to cries as you felt an orgasm about to wash over you. 

“P-please, Katie! Let me cum,” you cried out as the familiar coil in your stomach started to break. You tried to hang on as long as possible, knowing if you came without permission, you were going to get punished for it.

Katie’s movements sped up as she pushed down on your stomach and held on tightly to your hip. She kept a steady pace as the sound of her skin slapping against yours and the wet sounds of your dripping cunt filled the room. Katie wanted to make you suffer for lying to your friends but the sight of you fucked out and coming was something she couldn’t pass up.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” the defender growled, eyes locked on your face watching your expression as you let go.

Your orgasm sent shockwaves through you as your back arched off the bed and your head was thrown back. You came all over the toy attached to Katie’s hips but that didn’t stop her movements. She kept her pace the same as was determined to pull another orgasm from you. 

You cried at the overstimulation but the cries quickly turned to moans at the feeling of being full. Your second orgasm of the night hit you quickly, cum dripping down both your and Katie’s thighs. Katie slowed her movements, letting you calm down for a minute before pulling out of you completely and unwrapping your legs from her body. 

“Move up the bed and roll over, baby. We aren’t through yet,” Katie huffed out, she was going to show you just how wrong you were. 

You took a second to catch your breath before following her orders. You knew it was silly to lie to your friends over something like this but if it meant having Katie treat you like and having multiple earth-shattering orgasms back to back, then you couldn’t be too upset that she overheard you. You had a long night and felt every bit of it the next morning, but you were far from complaining about being sore.

[beat-the-morning]

Car rapids || Hozier x reader

Kinktober: Day 3 - Quickie

prompt list

Tags: quickie, car sex, semi-public sex i guess, dom/sub undertones kinda

Summary: Things get hot while on the car with Andrew on the way to his parent’s house for dinner, unfortunately you can’t be late, so it’s time to be quick

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: idk if i did yesterday’s since im scheduling these as i finish them but i probably didn’t because i don’t like writing it. So sorry for that. Anyway hope you like this one that i wrote between 11pm and 5am but i did like it so make of that what you will. Tomorrow’s prompt is facesitting I’ll see you all there

|| 💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙 ||

Your hands were on the wheel, eyes focused on the road as you drove across the Irish countryside. Your boyfriend, Andrew, sat next to you, looking out the window while he hummed along to a song playing from the car speakers. You and Andrew had decided to go on a little weekend getaway to Galway, just the tiniest change of scenery since leaving Ireland was out of the question, given the dinner with his parents on Sunday, which you were driving to right now, being a bit over halfway there. For once and by powers unknown to you, you were on time, early even, maybe because you told Andrew that you were already running late when you told him to finish getting ready when you were actually not, something that, once he found out about when you were already in the car and moving, he had (jokingly) complained endlessly about for the first fifteen minutes of the journey before apologising with a kiss to your cheek and putting on some music.

As you continued to drive, Andrew’s eyes wandered from the passing views over to you, a tiny smile forming in his face as he looked you up and down, his hand moved to your thigh, squeezing it ever so slightly. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, trying your best to suppress a smile. “Andrew.” You warned him.

“Hm?” He hummed in question, fake innocence in his voice as he spoke. “What is it, baby?”

“Hands off,” you gently scolded him, “can’t focus on the road if you’re all over me.”

“It’s just a hand on your thigh, love, nothing more.” He smiled, his grip tightening a little.

“Last time you said that we ended up having a pregnancy scare.” You reminded him.

“You’re the one that told me to finish inside when I wasn’t wearing a condom,” he teased back, chuckling softly, “and you’re on birth control now, anyway.”

“Not my point.”

“Then what was it?”

“That it’s never ‘nothing’ with you, or with me.” You said, the last words coming out in a flustered whisper.

“So I should take my hand off your thigh?” He smirked, knowing he was slowly winning you over.

“Maybe…” you mumbled, “you can keep it there, if you want, but no higher.”

“As you wish, baby.” He nodded, leaving his hand on your thigh, his fingers drawing small circles on it. He went back to looking out the window as you drove, a comfortable silence falling over the both of you again, only disturbed by the soft music.

°*°*°

“I was thinking,” Andrew said, breaking the silence that had fallen over you both a little over an hour ago, his hand still on your thigh, “you practically never drive, you’re always my passenger princess, especially in longer drives.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “why do you say that?”

“Because you’re driving right now, why?” His grip tightened on your thigh again.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “you drove us on the way there and then drove everywhere while we were in Galway, thought I’d let you rest from the wheel for a bit.”

“That’s sweet of you,” he smiled, “so it’s not because you don’t like my reckless driving?”

“No, I actually really like it, it’s fun when you drive like a maniac.” You chuckled, “ and I like the things we do while you’re driving, too.” You added, a cheeky smile on your face as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Andrew smiled too, a clear idea in his eyes now that you had brought up the subject. “Yeah? You like it when I finger you while we drive through the middle of nowhere, baby?” He teased, you nodded, biting your lip as you felt his grip tightening again. “Use your words.”

“Y-yeah,” you whined softly, suppressing a moan.

“D’you want me to do it while you drive, baby?”

“Can’t.” You answered, “I get distracted easily, I could crash your car.”

“Stop the car, then,” he suggested, his voice smooth and sultry as he leaned slightly closer to you. “Let me make you feel good, pet, it won’t take long.”

“You always say that,” a whine escaped you as you feigned resistance to his advances, in reality, your eyes were already looking for a good place to stop the car. “To you ‘not taking long’ means at least forty five minutes.”

“Won’t take more than ten, fifteen at most.” He whispered, “just stop the car and get on my lap, let me feel you around me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds you make, sweetness.”

You found a spot to stop at right as he stopped speaking, and thank God you did because you had seriously considered stopping the car in the middle of the road and fucking him right then and there. You slowed down, driving to the side of the road and stopping the car as Andrew’s smile widened, he leaned closer to you as he clicked his seatbelt open, his lips finding your jaw and planting soft kisses as you clicked your own seatbelt open. You turned your head towards him, your lips finding his and immediately latching on, passionately kissing him as you moved from the driver’s seat and onto his lap, straddling him as best you could. His hands moved to your skirt, pulling it up as fast as he could, a couple curses escaped him between kisses as he struggled to get the maxi skirt out of the way. You giggled softly at every curse of his, your hands working fast on his belt and jeans, quickly undoing them and pulling them down along with his boxers just enough so his cock, already hard and with a flushed tip, could spring free from its confines, slapping against his clothed stomach and making him whine lightly.

You spat on your hand and started to gently jerk him off while he struggled with your skirt and your hips gently grinded on him, you core desperate for some attention. “I’m going to rip this thing off you, I swear to God.” He muttered under his breath in frustration, moaning softly as you moved your hand. You giggled softly. “Not funny, baby.” He scolded you.

“You know you can just lift it up, right? You don’t need to take it off completely.” You reminded him, your lips finding his neck, peppering soft kisses along it.

“But then how will I see what pretty panties you’re wearing today?” He complained, still fighting the skirt.

“You do that and we’ll be late to dinner with your parents, and I’m not going to explain to them why we're late.”

“Fine,” he conceded, lifting your skirt and caressing your ass for a couple seconds before smacking it sharply, making you whine, “and don’t bring up my parents while I’m trying to fuck you again, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled softly. Andrew moved your underwear to the side, pulling you closer and blindly positioning you above his cock. You slowly sat down on it, making both of you gasp at the feeling. You moved your hips up and down on his cock, bouncing on it as he held onto you, planting warm kisses on your neck.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect.” He moaned onto your neck, starting to thrust up, meeting you halfway. His hand moved from your side to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit and flicking it quickly, pressing on it every so often, making you whine softly. Your hands moved to his hair, gripping his long curls while pure white pleasure ran through your veins like the most potent drug. You felt that all-familiar coil form in your lower abdomen, your breathing becoming ragged and whiny. “Almost there, baby? Already? You’re really sensitive today, you never get like this so fast.” He teased, each sentence finishing with a kiss to your neck.

You wanted to argue back, but when you opened your mouth to do so all that came out was a loud moan, your face heating up from slight embarrassment as Andrew chuckled. The coil in your stomach became stronger and stronger with each passing second, your legs shaking slightly, bouncing up and down on his cock was becoming increasingly difficult as you felt your orgasm coming, “Fuck! Andy!” You moaned loudly, stopping your movements out of sheer ecstasy, your legs shaking with pleasure, Andrew continued to fuck you, thrusting up into your pussy as he played with your clit. “Please! Oh my god! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease” you begged in a desperate moan, you weren’t even sure what it was you were begging for, Andrew did though, he kissed from your neck to your ear, whispering softly as he fucked you mercilessly.

“It’s okay, darling, come for me, let me feel you, baby.” He lightly bit your earlobe as you found your release, the coil in your core snapping as you moaned loudly, your hips shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. His hand moved away from your clit and to your hips as he lifted them up and down to fuck you better, overstimulating you as he chased his own release. He came not long after, his hips snapping up to yours as he filled you with his cum, soft groans escaping him while you whined from the overstimulation.

He came down from his peak, kissing your neck and face as you still tried to ground yourself. “Fifteen minutes,” he said with a smug tone.

“What?” You asked softly, still a bit out of it.

“We took fifteen minutes, told you I could be quick,” he chuckled.

“How the hell do you know that?” You mumbled into his shoulder, your post-orgasmic tiredness catching up to you.

“Car clock,” he said smugly, “it was 2:07pm when you got on my lap, and now it's 2:22pm.”

“You’re impossible,” you giggled, thinking it funny how he had made a mental note of the time just to prove he was right.

“You love it,” he smiled into your hair. “I think I’ll drive the rest of the way, you look exhausted, love.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, getting off his lap and settling onto the passenger's seat, after fixing your underwear and skirt. Andrew fixed his own clothes, adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate his height, and began driving to his parents’ house, still on time for dinner.

[italian-lit-tournament]

Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

[ckret2]

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth. 

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it. 

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring.  He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

[fiteandflite]

CoD fic writers, you guys are doing god’s work and ily for it BUT as a Brit I see a lot of common misconceptions / things that make me :/

1. When Soap chastises anyone for being a Brit, eg: ‘you British and your tea’. Soap is from Scotland, Scotland is British. Scotland is part of Great Britain and the British Isles. It doesn’t make sense for him to call other people Brits! He is one!

2. ‘Oh but Soap is a Scottish nationalist he doesn’t consider Scotland part of Britain bla bla’ if that’s your interpretation of his character, fine, but his issue would still be with the English. Ireland and Wales aren’t the ones that fucked Scotland up, his nationalism would be against England. So it makes more sense for him to say ‘fuckin English and their superiority complex’ or smth like that.

3. That being said, Soap would 100% identify as Scottish, NOT British. He is British, but would leans heavily on his Scottish pride. Nuances idk.

4. Scottish people also drink a lot of tea, it’s fuckin cold up there, mmm warm leaf water

5. Slight side note but when Soap complains about the weather in Manchester? Like I feel him, fuck Manchester, but again. Soap is Scottish. Weather in Scotland is often several degrees colder than in the South.

6. Overuse of British slang. Ofc the lads use quite a lot, but some of it, like ‘buggered’, is very old fashioned. Maybe Price would use it, maybe. By all means use slang, but not every other word

7. Overuse of phonetic dialogue. Similar to above. Use it for some words that are very heavily accented, but not every single one. This goes double for American writers, I’m watching you.

That’s all I can think of atm. But honestly if you’re writing fic based on characters from another country, it’s hard to get all the finicky nuances, and 90% of the time it’s really well done. So like, you’re amazing. Keep writing.

[yourwosogirly]

Opposites do attract - Katie McCabe

Hope you like this @veteranwerewolf95

Word count : 1k

“Really, Katey bear, still asleep?”I sighed, as I walked back into my and Katie’s bedroom after having breakfast she was still fast asleep, snores escaping her.

She had been sleeping in a lot more than necessary for the Ireland captain after having jet lag from coming back from Australia so I had let her sleep in but I had to start getting ready and she still wasn’t awake.

I got back into bed, pulling the covers over us and I turned over to face her, it was kind of creepy as I was staring at her, but I was just admiring my girlfriend.

I cupped her face in my hands as she grumbled in her sleep her hand resting on the side of her face as she slept while I smiled, watching in cuteness.

It didn’t look like she would be able to awake from her slumber anytime soon so I would have to be the one to do it.

“Babycakes, wake up for me” I graced with a smile, lying on my side as I looked at her, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

I kissed her softly for a few minutes before I felt her kiss me back. I pulled away in shock giving her the chance to yawn her head off.

“Good morning” I smiled at her, stroking her jaw as she mumbled things I couldn’t quite catch onto.

“Babycakes?, really” she quirked an eyebrow at me for the weird names as I shrugged, it was silent got a moment before we both laughed, leaning against each other's bodies.

Clearly someone who wasn’t too happy to have been woken up on a Saturday morning . She turned away from me, flipping her phone over to see what the time read before moving to face me again.

“Ugh it’s so early” she complained, sitting up on the bed and laying her back against the headboard.

“Baby, it's 10:35” I reminded her as I sat on her lap and she pulled me closer and let her hands rest on my ass.

“So, what are we doing today?” I ask, smiling nuzzling my head into the crook of her tanned neck.

She wrapped her left arm around my shoulder, resting her chin on top of mine, giving my hairline a kiss.

“Sleep, hopefully” she mumbled into my hair and closed her eyes making me roll my eyes.

“Baby, we can’t sleep all day” I pulled away from her chest making her whine with a pout on her lips.

“Why not?”she groaned, dropping her head on my shoulder as I stroked her hair with a smile.

“Can we go shopping today?”I ask, moving her hair as I began to kiss her neck.

“No” she disagreed straight away, feeling tired and wanting to spend the day in bed, together.

But it was hard to disagree as she had to hide a moan while I kept sucking on her neck.

“Baby please” I looked up from where I was sucking on her collarbone with doe eyes which she tried to look away from.

“No” she forced out, struggling against me as I grabbed her chin, holding her in place.

“For me?”I gave her a sly smile knowing she couldn’t resist me.

“Fine” she gave in making me smile. I jumped up, peppering kisses all over her face as she giggled trying to push me away.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” I grinned at her, I had meant to go for a shopping trip for a while now and getting to spend the day with Katie made it even better.

I jumped off the bed, running towards the wardrobe to find an outfit for me to wear leaving Katie in the comfort of our bed, alone.

“Wait, come back!”

A couple hours later

“Why did I agree to this?”Katie groans rubbing at her eyes as I dragged her through the shopping centre.

“Cause you love me” I turned round, giving her a cheeky smile and pulling her into a kiss.

“Damn right” she mumbled against my lips before I pulled away to walk to the next beauty shop ahead making Katie whine in displeasure.

“Cmon Kate, just a couple more shops and then we can go for some lunch yeah? How about subway?”I suggested, making her smile that I could only grace on her dashing face.

“Okay,” she sighed as I leaned up to kiss her cheek causing a blush to spread on her face and up her before we entered the shop.

Katie managed to survive the last shop, and by that I mean she stood in the corner, my shopping bags in her hands, complained about standing up but secretly undressed me with her eyes as she watched me try on clothes.

“Katie, what’s up?”I looked up at her, seeing her wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Can we go home now?”She asked, nibbling on my neck.

“Baby, we’re almost done”i told her, patting her right arm to let me go hearing a small whine making me chuckle .

“But Y/N, darling, baby, the love of my life, I’m tired, I hate shopping, everyone’s up my arse, I just wanna go home and be with you, and I’m hungry”she complained with a huff.

“Kate, this is the last shop okay? Then we can get some food and cuddle all you want but let me go”i said with a giggle, trying to push her away from me .

“Fine”she grumbled, letting me go as i headed over the lady who was helping me out .

“Sorry, she’s allergic to smiling”I told her apologetically as me and her, who’s name was Lucy, giggled .

“I heard that!”

“Okay, thank you, bye”i said to the lady’s working as me and Katie headed on of the shop . I turned to Katie as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. or

“Ok I’m done now, we can go get some food” I smiled heading round the corner to the subway as I could practically see the hunger in her eyes.

“Finally” she mumbled as I hit her shoulder.

“Shut up, I know you secretly enjoyed it your just tired” I told her as she rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“Anything to make you happy” she hummed kissing the side of my head.

Once me and Katie sat down and got our food, she grabbed my hand across the table as I looked up at her.

“Hey babe?” she asked me.

“Yes my love?”I asked kissing her knuckles, knowing she was about to tell me something.

“You're the only girl that can make me smile” she mumbled as she looked down at the ground all flustered, suddenly gone shy.

“Aww, Katie bear, come here” I smiled in appreciation, I knew this was the way of showing that she loved me.

“I love you too” I hummed, breathing in her scent.

This was therapy to me for the Katie and ruesha news 😭😭

[ninyard]

Do you have any HCs for Kayleigh?? I always wonder about the pre-AFTG series story (and the big players).

There’s brief stuff in the EC abt Tetsuji & Kayleigh. but other than that it’s pretty blank?

Also the detail abt exy becoming popular partially via a manga ? I want the missing chapter when Tetsuji reacts to that 😭😭

Oh Kayleigh and Tetsuji!!!!!!!! I picture her so clearly in University in Dublin in her final year of Sports Management or whatever course she did, writing her thesis on mixed gender sports or the invention of new sports and sitting down with her thesis lecturer with this idea. Kayleigh finding a mentor in this man, or woman, and saying to them I want to do something bold, something amazing. She's on the Lacrosse team in UCD. She plays on as many of the teams that she can without jeopardising her studies.

Kayleigh moving to Japan for her masters, and meeting Tetsuji, and she sees herself in him, this glint in his eyes that says he needs to be destined for more. Them sitting across from each other in the library with books about sports and the invention of different things and Tetsuji looks at a sport like Lacrosse and says it's missing something. I think it could be better. And they spitball these ideas back and forth. Should it be on ice, bigger teams, smaller teams? Should it be outdoors or indoors? Is it violence? Is it violence that it's missing?

Kayleigh talking to her mom, sending letters to Ireland, making expensive phone calls in the middle of the night all the way across the world, begging her to send her VHS tapes of as many hurling games as she could find - her mother complaining about how expensive they'd be to ship to Japan, but she agrees anyway. Kayleigh finding as many books as she can about Irish sport and the history of it all. It's a couple of weeks before she get the package at her door, and she calls Tetsuji when he's in the middle of a lecture and tells him to come over. There in front of her is four, five, six tapes of All Ireland final matches, and they sit down in front of the TV with their notebooks in front of them.

They don't write anything after the first match, Tetsuji staring at the screen like he's taking it all in, Kayleigh staring at him with a smile on her face like this is what he was waiting to see. 70 minutes go by and she switches the tape out for another one, and then another, and another, and they stay up until the sun rises just taking notes and watching. Brainstorming. Kayleigh explains the rules to him. They draw pictures, and there's a million failed ideas that don't work, like a flat racquet more similar to a hurley than a lacrosse stick, or helmets more similar to a cricket helmet than an american football one. No armor, more armor, too much armor.

Them finding each other after class, and proposing this idea for their dissertation, their master's thesis, their final project, and getting a ridiculous look. Getting shut down, getting told it's ridiculous. So they do what they were supposed to do; make it fucking happen anyway.

They spend all the savings that they have, and Tetsuji contacts his family, and they get things shipped over to Japan - hurling helmets, hockey gear, lacrosse sticks. All these mish-mash element that creates the idea thats been living inside their heads. They have 10 different types of balls, a tennis ball, a cricket ball, a baseball, all these different options, and the two of them find out the schedule of all the pitches and fields and courts on campus and try it everywhere. It's messy, but it's exciting, and invigorating. They have their bulging notebooks on the ground, and every rule and idea they have, every thing that feels right or wrong, they write it down. They're taping weights around the lacrosse sticks to see if it feels better, padding out their gear with cardboard and duct tape. There's something missing, still. They try it on ice, and its too unbalanced and sloppy, but the first time Tetsuji shoots a ball at the plexiglass wall, and it rebounds right into Kayleigh's net, they both look at each other like that's it. That's what we've been missing. They jump on top of each other and get scolded for falling on the ice and screaming in the rink.

They figure out how much it would cost for them to rent out the unused college soccer pitch for the summer, and find ten of their friends and classmates and explain the rules as best they can. It's expensive, buying the gear for them all, figuring out how to surround the soccer pitch in plexiglass that's strong enough to not topple over from the weight of a person. They spend that summer finessing the rules, and finessing the positions, and teaching their friends how to play. By September, Tetsuji invites his family to watch, and Kayleigh invites their lecturers to watch, and there they stand. The first ever game of Exy.

It's not perfect - a goal falls over, the floor of the pitch isn't quite working, because they keep stumbling over their own feet when they run, but it's a brilliant thing to watch; something new, and unique, and never been done before. Kayleigh's team beats Tetsuji's team, and for a while they don't hear much. But their friends keep playing, they keep contacting people, making phonecalls to manufacturers and sports clubs.

I'm just thinking about those first few years where Kayleigh and Tetsuji probably spent every waking moment together just figuring it out. Their dorm rooms or apartments full of crap, different balls and equipment. Her bedroom wall covered in drawing and scraps of paper and ideas. Them spending most of their time on the phone with each other when they're not together in person. Thinking about them creating presentations and pitches and just trying to get their silly little idea of the ground, waiting for someone to take a chance on them, waiting for all the different sports committees and companies to call them back. A million "Sorry, no thank you!" emails and a million "It's just not something we can help you with" letters and phone calls. Until they get that one, then those two, those three words that say fucking go for it. The four words that say I believe in this.

I think about Kayleigh and Tetsuji running off of redbull and adrenaline, and how happy they would've felt when that first game finished and they saw something in each others eyes. Before their passion got killed by the reality, by the Moriyama's, by the world pushing them back again and again and again. But more of their classmates get involved. Somebody asked "What is it that you kids have built on the soccer field?" and then it's in a local paper. It's letters sent back to Ireland signed off in Japanese saying I can't wait to tell you what I've been working on.

Yeah. Yeah I have a lot of thoughts about Kayleigh. I have some images of her and Tetsuji in my head. Just a few!