#I've also seen her more recently even though it was like a year ago

[unproduciblesmackdown]

bonus thing i cherish in this shot is that it's the one time it's immediately noticeable that her hair length is uneven....let's go Cutting One's Own Hair (With Or Without A Mirror) look havers irl (b/c of cutting one's own hair with or without a mirror, maybe) & even when it's recreated on purpose like so

[lcriedlastnight]

Friends to lovers with Oscar. Maybe Oscar realized his feelings for y/n very recently and he’s still trying to accept the fact that he loves her. And one time at a party he gets extremely jealous like he has never felt before and somehow he ends up telling her "Kiss me like this is one of those stupid movies you love so much."

omg i love when men pine! tysm for requesting anon!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.1k

how was this fair? oscar has to sit here and watch you with him! now, you were not really doing anything with him but it was annoying oscar the way that stupid guy, that he did not even bother learning the name of at the beginning of the party, was sitting so close to you that if he got any closer then he would be sitting on your lap! the more he thought about it the more it pissed him off.

you and oscar were not dating or anything, in fact the driver had just discovered his feelings for you a few weeks ago. it felt extremely unnecessary for him to find out this revelation then only a few weeks later watch some guy throw himself onto you, without any complaints from you. he was not sure if you just could not tell that he was trying so hard to get you to go upstairs with him or if you knew and were just playing hard to get. the brunette was praying it was the former.

this horrible jealous feeling that felt like it was suffocating oscar made him not only want to be with you constantly but also made him feel extremely guilty for thinking so. being your friend for almost two years he knew all too well how much you longed for a relationship, not even just a relationship but one like in those rom-coms you forced oscar to watch on those movie nights where you fell asleep halfway through, head slumped on his shoulder.

while oscar continues to glare daggers into the man sitting beside you he hears a mutual friend approach him. "you alright, mate?" his friend asks, sensing the jealous gaze oscar has stuck on you and your new friend.

oscar hums, eyes never tearing away from you as he watches you laugh at something he says. oscar decides that he has barely seen you tonight and he needs you close to him before he does something he knows he would regret come the morning, or even as he went to bed that night.

oscar felt as if he could hear your laugh ringing in his ears even when you were quiet. that is when he gets up off his couch and trails over to you, your name falling off his lips lightly as he looks at you with a desperate look of longing, he prays you understand.

"hi osc, forgot you were even here, were you hiding?". it is a joke. it is so clearly a joke with the way you laugh through the words and the teasing tone that laces your sweet voice. oscar is not too sure if you were serious with your words though. had you really forgotten that he was at the party? the thought of you forgetting about him sent the australian into a frenzy, mind scrambling for an excuse to get you alone and away from this stupid man who was making you forget that he even existed.

"yeah, i've been here. wanna come grab a drink with me?" oscar asks but in his mind it feels much more like a beg. in his mind it feels like oscar is down on his knees, hands pressed together as he begs for a second of your attention. the sad part is he knew that if that was what he had to do he would do it here, drop down on his knees in front of everyone and beg for you to pay him even a second of attention.

"sure," you smile up at oscar before turning around to face your friend again. "i'll see you later, it was great to chat with you again, it's been forever!" you say your goodbyes and the man beside you does the same. it pleases oscar to no end as he knows for a fact that you will not be seeing him for the rest of the night and it seemed like you knew that too.

oscar is quick to throw a hand out in your direction to help you up. your touching sending bolts of lightening through his nerves. he ignores it in favour of holding your hand all the way through to the kitchen. it had felt like years since oscar had been to a house party, it made him feel older than he was.

"you okay? you're kinda quiet." you ask as you pour your drink and mixer of choice into one of those red cups, just like in those films you adore, oscar notices.

"yeah, m'okay. just missed you." oscar mumbles, not really one for admitting that kind of thing but it felt weird to hide it from you.

"how's your boyfriend?" oscar could not keep him mouth shut as the questions slips out his mouth.

"my boyfriend?" you laugh "you mean liam?" the smile is not nearly enough to distract him from the guy that had made you laugh like that, like he was not just sitting across from you.

"is that his name?" oscar tries to act uninterested but it is very clear he is seeing as he was the one who asked you about him.

you smile at him. "yeah that's his name. he's good, not my boyfriend though." you having, what anyone who was not deeply in love with you, would call a knowing smile on your face as you take a sip of your drink.

"he sure likes to act like it." oscar huffs, blatantly ignoring everything else you had said except the boyfriend part. it almost makes you laugh and you try your hardest to not burst out laughing in his poor face.

"he's married, so i doubt it oscar." you inform him. your words shock him, he looks way too young to be married and he tells you so, earning a half laugh half scoff from you.

"they're highschool sweethearts and have been married for a year already, i didn't know they were married until today though." you explain to oscar who stares at you blankly.

you catch his eyes, confused at his expression. "what?" you ask.

"kiss me like one of those stupid movies you love so much." oscar mumbles before taking it in his own hands and pulling you close to him for your lips to meet briefly. he pulls away, a little panicked at what he had just done. you assure him with a smile as you pull him back in.

if you were being completely honest, it was a sloppy makeout session in someone's kitchen, both of you a little tipsy and a lot in love. it was not one of your proudest moments, oscar's either, but it was the one thing you would never take back. you thought it to be one of the best things to ever happen to you, as it finally bagged you oscar.

[sparklemaia]

Heyyy!!

So I've recently read a lot of your comics about top surgery, and I really resonate with your experience (I haven't had it myself but I'd like to). I've recently been exploring my own gender and realising I might be non binary, but I guess I feel sort of an imposter in that I want to keep my name and pronouns (afab), despite feeling like I never got the memo about what a "woman" is, which I know is fine, but I guess I was wondering how the shift from your agab into realising you were nb felt?

Like, you seem to describe your gender as sort of unknowable and indefinable, and I guess that's sort of how I feel? I just want to be... More me. I guess what I'm really asking is, how would you define/feel about that shift into realising you were nonbinary, do you still feel connected to your agab, how do you reconcile the two?

Sorry for the long ask!

Hi, this is such a good question! I actually DO still feel pretty connected to my agab. I feel like I am a girl but also more than a girl but also not enough of a girl, simultaneously. (Weirdly, I never ever feel like a woman, and definitely not a man, but I do feel like an adult at least some of the time.) Top surgery was 100% the right decision for me; my body feels so much more correct and I am grateful every single day this procedure was accessible to me. (I was on a low dose of T for a year and a half too, and I basically just got biceps and a sliiiightly lower voice out of it. We stan.) I simply don't have strong feelings about how these things do or do not map onto gender identity or other people's perceptions of my gender. I am generally perceived as female, and that's fine! Like, close enough! I often feel somewhere BETWEEN cis and trans, or even between cis and nonbinary, and sometimes I joke that I'm just "nonbinary for insurance purposes." I mostly use she/her pronouns, although won't object to they/them. I like my "feminine" name -- I chose it myself years ago for reasons unrelated to gender and I have no plans to change it again. In terms of gender presentation I'm usually somewhere in the "tomboy femme" zone. Basically, I've been through a medical transition but not a social transition. Which is not very common, or at least I haven't seen much representation of it! (Be the bad trans representation you want to see in the world, i guess??)

Even though the words are often used interchangeably, I feel more alliance to genderqueer as a label than nonbinary, because nonbinary feels too clinical and "third checkbox"y to me, whereas genderqueer feels more expansive and undefinable and dynamic, with space for the ways in which I both am and am not performing girlhood correctly. When pressed to pick a gender word for myself, that one feels the closest. But if I'm filling out a government form or whatever? Yeah sure F is fine.

A lot of where I land with this stuff, though, is just kind of relaxing my grip on language. Top surgery was a relief, it helped me feel present in and connected to my body. Ultimately it doesn't matter much to me how much of that was *gender* dysphoria and how much of it was just... something I wanted, a way to make my body feel more like mine, to align my mental image of myself with the thing I had to stuff into clothes and walk around the city every day. I believe very strongly in bodily autonomy, and in making our lives as easy and comfortable and joyful as we can for ourselves, without needing to have a clean and tidy explanation for our choices. It is very possible to know with reasonable certainty that you want something, that it will be a net positive for your life, without being able to articulate, even to yourself, WHY you want it. It doesn't need to have a bigger meaning than ahh yes, this feels right. At this point in my life, I'm more invested in marveling at the sheer improbability of my own existence than in wedging myself into the taxonomy of known and acceptable gender narratives. I'm just a person, here for the merest twinkle of a moment in cosmic history, making soup and knitting baby hats and admiring bugs and singing off-key and cutting my own hair and doing my gosh darn best to light my tiny patch of night sky with stories so that you (and you, and you) feel less alone on your own journey through the unfurling dark. Gender is just such an inconsequential detail in the narrative of my life, and pretty open to reader interpretation anyway.

Not having to wear bras is pretty great though ngl

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my dad to let out his emotions?

(cw: this entire post is about animal death)

Long story short, my dad (58M) has wanted a dog for decades. My mom (54F) has been refusing a dog for all 25 years they've been together. A few years ago, she finally agreed to get a puppy, and my dad was more excited than I've ever seen him be for anything.

Our dog passed away from a tumor a few months ago. He wasn't even three years old. This practically destroyed all of us, especially my dad, since he'd fought so hard for a dog for years. On top of that, he hasn't had much of a chance to let out his emotions since my mom keeps stopping him, and also making it worse.

A couple of weeks ago, on the way home from a party, something reminded my dad of the dog, and he started to cry in the car. We all comforted him, but after a few minutes my mom rolled her eyes and told him to stop crying. When we got home, my dad apologized for getting emotional. I (18M) told him he didn't have to apologize, since crying in grief is a completely normal thing to do. My mom told me I shouldn't say that, since he would just "wallow in his sadness all night" and it was better to just tell him not to do that.

I was baffled by this. I realized that she wasn't trying to make him feel better, she just didn't want to deal with him crying anymore. (I also recently noticed that she does the same thing to my sister (14F) and I.) Apparently this has been going on for pretty much their entire marriage of ~20 years.

On top of all of that, my mom brings up the topic of our dog and his death to people at Every. Single. Opportunity. And it always makes the rest of us feel like shit. She ordered a custom portrait of our dog as a Father's Day present for my dad. When I implied that this might be a bad idea, she said "So you hate it. Great." She also wants another dog exactly like our old one, despite the fact that he was a purebred, and had some health problems because of it. At this point, she wouldn't shock me if she said she wanted to clone the poor dog.

My dad has struggled with depression for years. He lived a very difficult life growing up, and was basically taught that showing sadness or fear was weak. Throughout my life, though, he's always made sure to tell my sister and I that he never wants us to have to bottle up how we feel and that the "boys don't cry" attitude is stupid.

So you can imagine my surprise when I tried to comfort him earlier tonight and he said "No, no, I'm fine. Boys don't cry. Don't worry about me." After that, my parents got into an argument about my mom telling my dad that he needs to "move past this".

TLDR: My mom keeps doing things that remind my dad of our dead dog, but then when he gets overwhelmed and starts crying she tells him to stop because she doesn't want to deal with his crying. AITA for telling my dad that she's wrong?

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

your ghoul fics have me in a fuckin chokehold 😭😩 there's nothing i love more in life than a scary sexy man w questionable morals

not to be horny in anon but like... imagine the reader, after having been traveling together for a while, being an insufferable brat for a couple days, just tap dancing on coop's last nerve- but he's not gonna get rid of you, he's seen you in action, despite his lone-ranger status, you're too useful. too skilled. too good at surviving in the wasteland as a vaultie for this not to have been destined. at least that's what he tells himself to avoid facing the fact that, well, poor bastard caught feelings. basically this is a long winded way of me saying boot riding as punishment, cause the man deserves a free polish 😶

Grunt Work

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller Reader

Word Count: 3,920

Warnings: smut (18+), BDSM-style dynamics, boot riding, masturbation (male), begging, mild hair pulling, mild cum play, Cooper is a softie (but a pissed off softie).

Notes: Anon, I wish you would've been here to see me read this request for the first time. I think a small part of my brain exploded. How did this become 4,000 words? It may have turned out softer than you envisioned (not the first time I've given that preface/apology and it certainly won't be the last; The Ghoul is soft deep inside and you cannot tell me otherwise!), and if so, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you for reading!

Every day with this girl was an exercise in self-restraint.

Granted, the type of self-restraint varied greatly from day to day, hour to hour. From the moment he had agreed to do business with the vaultie, she'd been testing his patience, his boundaries, his sense of what was normal.

Generally, he quite liked it. It was actually endlessly refreshing, he found, to spend time with someone who treated him like he was human, who he felt comfortable enough to actually relax a bit around. Someone who still had some sunshine left in them. Slowly, agonizingly so, they'd developed a bit of a rapport, then a genuine trust, which had eventually (and somewhat recently, given the scope of all the months they'd been traveling together) bloomed into more. What you'd call that "more", he wasn't really certain.

It had been the first time he'd allowed himself any sort of dalliance in that area since he'd divorced Barb all those years ago, and it had been both amazing and heartbreaking. Establishing that new attachment with his little vaultie had been the first time in lifetimes that he truly felt connected to his humanity, the way she'd kissed him and clung to him and sighed his name just like one would with any normal man.

He really had forgotten how wonderful it could be to be with someone, to let them get as close as they possibly could, even though he looked the way he did, acted the way he did, and refused to take off anything besides his duster, his gloves, and his hat.

He knew, deep down somewhere, that she wouldn't reject him simply for what his body looked like. Not at this point. Unfortunately, her feelings about his body didn't really change his feelings about his body. Still, getting to feel her and hold her close had been even better than he'd imagined.

But that new moment of connection, that next and first step, also meant he was fully closing the door on his time with Barb; he'd always been faithful to her, even after they'd split, since he'd really had no interest in dating again in the time after the paperwork was finalized. Then the world had ended and wasn't even a thought in his mind for ages. It had taken him months to even see the advances the girl had been making towards him, months more to reciprocate them.

As asinine as it would seem, becoming this close, actually giving himself to someone else physically and emotionally, made his two-centuries old divorce finally feel real. His ex-wife could still well be out there somewhere, as far as he knew, but they'd never be together again, even if by some wild chance they were reunited. Those special feelings he'd once held so deeply for her were no more.

When his companion had finally fallen asleep that night, tucked naked and warm against his side and wrapped in the tail of his duster, he had shed a few tears, something he genuinely didn't believe he was still capable of.

She didn't seem to be sleeping as deeply as she typically did that night, but if she'd overheard his incredibly vulnerable moment, she never let on or brought it up, and he was endlessly grateful for it.

Maybe he was just growing soft with old age.

She was also quite the burgeoning Wastelander, a shockingly good scavenger with a sharp eye for value and utility, small enough to fit in places that he couldn't, her little hands quick at hacking terminals and picking locks. But, despite her small size, she was quite strong, able to handle herself far better in most fights than he'd ever expected a vault-dweller to be capable of. He didn't necessarily need to watch over her every single second, but the urge persisted, nevertheless. Seeing her safe, seeing her happy, those things gave him a strange sense of inner peace that he hadn't felt in ages. It had become second nature to hover around her.

Besides, as of late, keeping an eye on her every second seemed to be his best bet to stay alive. He was genuinely unsure if his girl (Was that what she was?) had been dealing with an especially bad streak of luck over the last week, or what, but she was rapidly grating on his nerves much more usual.

First, she had managed to nose her way into a yao guai den and set the thing off chasing her, resulting in him taking a pretty nasty swipe to the side before they could put it down, several foot-long tears in his already worse-for-wear coat. However, she'd apologized profusely, spent a few hours that night mending and patching up his coat. He found it impossible to stay mad at her through either.

Then, she'd done the exact same thing a few days later, but with a pack of nightstalkers. He'd nearly lost a finger helping her fight them off, the shitty little things infinitely more tough than one might expect. After that, she was officially no longer in charge of picking where they slept, an arrangement he hadn't been fully aware he'd entered into until he'd had to put his foot down about it. Whatever, she'd pouted a bit and insisted it wasn't her fault. He didn't love how little she spoke to him when she was pouting, and her resolve for keeping at such things was irritatingly strong, but what bothered him more was how well it worked.

Eventually, he'd apologized for snapping at her. That night, she chose where they slept. He tried to not think too long on why he'd let her.

He didn't fully understand why he found himself acting this way around her, and only her. All he knew for sure was that he'd be devastated to lose her, as chagrined as the admission made him, and so he did his best to make things pleasant to keep her around.

What she'd pulled today, however, had managed to officially piss him off.

After a long week of iffy sleep and more scrapes with wildlife and fiends than usual, they had both been a tad testy by the time they'd reached the shabby little trading outpost at the edge of the Wastes, one of the last places you could reliably stop for clean water and supplies in this section of the desert going the way they'd come from. It was also a reliable place for him to obtain vials, and had come in handy to a life-saving degree more than once.

The girl had gotten slick-mouthed with the proprietor over the price of some fancy machine parts she'd scrounged up, insisting that they were worth far more than he was offering her. Granted, she was right; the man was attempting to swindle her, to some degree, but frankly, the damn things were cumbersome and heavy and he wouldn't even call the price she could theoretically get for them worth hauling them around in the heat. If it were him, he wouldn't have dragged them all this way, and would certainly ditch them now.

For reasons he couldn't fathom, though, her solution to the man offhandedly threatening to just keep the damn things had been to pull her pistol on him, which, of course, had set off an entire chain of unnecessary events. The owner's gun had come out, as well, then Cooper's, despite him actually trying to talk the situation down for once.

The man wouldn't relent, however, and he had been forced to shoot his hand off to end the conflict without her blood being spilled. Well, maybe not completely forced, but it certainly felt that way at the time. That particular trading outpost had been incredibly useful to him for well over a decade, and now he wouldn't be able to return.

If it had been anyone else, he probably would have shot them.

Not probably. He would have shot them.

But instead, here he was, tucked into a creaky old UV-eaten lawn chair, smoking and trying to disguise how unsettlingly happy he was to finally have some safe alone time with her beneath his annoyance at being inconvenienced. If there was one thing he hated, it was being inconvenienced. But, if there was one thing he greatly enjoyed, it was her company, so he was at a bit of an impasse.

It was moments like this where he wondered if he'd finally poisoned his brain with too much Jet or any other number of substances, the haze that consumed him every moment around her thick. Even now, when he was angrier with her than he'd ever been at any point in their travels, he couldn't focus on his legitimate grievance because he wanted her so badly. It was the single most irksome thing he'd ever experienced.

She was quickly sniffing out this weakness of his, perceptive little minx that she was. Increasingly, she was quick to soothe his bad moods with little touches and kisses, and it made him melt embarrassingly every single time. He'd been livid and silent as they'd trudged away from the building, both of them covered in rapidly-cooling blood spatter, when she'd brushed her hand along his back softly; a sort of apology, he supposed. Since then, his main source of anger had been himself and his lack of resolve when it came to this particular woman.

The old cowboy was determined to teach her a lesson today, though.

He'd spent the better part of an hour checking their perimeter once they'd come across this place, and the little sniper's nest where they were holed up had a great view of the area. It certainly wasn't much, little more than a rusty metal panel jammed between some rocks, a mattress, a chair, and a radio. But for the first time in a few weeks, things were safe, quiet, and calm. They had plenty of rations between the two of them, and water wasn't as much of a concern as it had been on their way in. She was so comfortable that she'd actually shed her boots and socks, her dainty little feet curled up underneath her as she nibbled away at something under the ramshackle "roof".

Now was the time. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

"You've been quiet since we left the traders." she said after a while of companionable, though mildly terse, silence. It wasn't a question, but at the same time very much was, and the casual, roundabout way she was addressing what was her own actions made him scowl slightly.

"You've been a pain in my ass these last few days, sugar." he said flatly, glaring at her as best as he could from under the brim of his hat. "Should be happy I've just been quiet now."

She actually rolled her eyes slightly, but clearly didn't think he'd seen it, keeping silent as she continued to eat. Increasingly bold for someone within grabbing distance. Cooper let a few seconds pass, studying her.

"Y'know, when I was in the marines, if you were a little shitheel, they'd make you do grunt work." he said eventually, voice matter-of-fact.

She pursed her lips at that, finishing up the can of beans she'd been steadily tucking into.

"I don't think I know what that is." she replied almost absentmindedly.

"It's the shit work no one ever wanted to do, so being assigned to it was intended as a punishment. Scrubbin' floors, toilets. Peelin' potatoes. Polishin' boots."

She chuckled at his anecdote as if it were meant to be entertaining, but the way he let her laugh hang in the silence, staring her down as she sat there curled up beside him, said otherwise. After a moment, she sort of narrowed her eyes at him, her tone low, almost conspiratory, when she asked:

"What're you playing at, cowboy?"

"I'm sayin' you're in trouble, cowgirl." he replied, reaching out to hold her chin solidly in his grip and watching her pout. "I'm sayin' that I think a little grunt work would do you and that attitude of yours some good, and I'm sayin' that I think you should polish my boots."

"Polish your boots?" she repeated, wrapping her tongue around each of the words like they were foreign to her.

"Pretty sure there ain't a functioning toilet within a hundred miles of where we're sitting, and I ain't got any potatoes. So…"

"You can't be serious." she said, her eyes full of curious suspicion as she looked him up and down.

Releasing her chin, the old ghoul set to removing his gloves, tugging his second hand free and using his naked pointer finger to draw a little 'x' over his heart.

"Serious as the grave, darlin'."

There were a few pregnant seconds of them staring one another down, waiting for the other to bend, to flinch. She even lifted her chin towards him, just enough for him to pick up on, an unspoken challenge. God, she was so like him.

"Now…be good and take your clothes off." he smirked, brows raising when she made to argue in response. Her lips worked their way between her teeth as she hesitated before slowly dropping all her armor from her arms and torso, then drawing the dirty shirt underneath over her head.

"Is that better, Coop?" she asked, letting her hair down out of the knot she'd tied it up into on top of her head, the strands framing her face as she worked him over again with those eyes of hers. Pulling herself up into a standing position, he did his best to ignore the way her bare breasts moved and dipped with gravity.

"Mmm. I think it would be more fittin' if you called me 'sir', frankly."

"You cannot be serious!" she insisted again, indignant as she slid the zipper on her trousers down, her tone making him chuckle despite himself. She just didn't know when to quit, and it was fucking adorable.

"Am I ever unserious?" he asked, ignoring the look she shot him back in favor of watching her slowly work the worn pants down over the curve of her ass, dropping them into a pile around her feet and leaving her standing there as naked as the day she was born. He felt his already-stiffening cock twitch slightly, resisting the urge to rub himself through the faded pinstripes of his pants. This was supposed to be a punishment for her, and doing that would give her too much opportunity to distract him.

"Aww, c'mon, boss." she sighed, pressing at a hidden button of his, cocking her head and sending that silky curtain around her face glinting in the light.

"I mean it, missy. You fucked up pretty bad today, and you need to be punished for it. And what did I just say?" he responded, fighting hard to keep his voice even and body still.

"Well…what else would you have in mind as a punishment, sir?" she purred as she stepped back towards him, batting those long, dark lashes his way. He managed to keep his eyes on hers and off of her body, a task that felt herculean as the ache in his gut grew more intense. For a split second, he wanted to give in to her, to pin her to the ground and fuck the attitude out of her like he'd wanted to for days. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

"I promise you that if you knew your other options, darlin', you'd choose this." he replied, finishing his smoke and tossing the butt away. Digging his inhaler out for a quick puff, he finally removed his hat and set it aside, reclining just enough to allow his feet to stick out a few inches in front of him.

She huffed at her little ploy failing to work, crossing her arms and cocking her hip slightly. Cooper's teeth dug into the inside of his cheek to keep back a grin.

"Well, are you gonna take them off?" she demanded.

He couldn't hold back his smirk at that, his head cocking as he continued to stare her down.

"Just how long are you gonna keep playin' dumb? You know it's gonna get cold when it gets dark."

Studying her face, he could see the faint lines of confusion there, and wondered if maybe she really didn't know what he meant.

"There's a reason I wanted you naked, honey, and it ain't just the view."

Though it certainly didn't hurt.

It took a few long, long seconds of her looking him up and down, wondering, but eventually the glow of realization lit up her face, followed by more brow furrowed confusion.

"How would that even work?" she asked, though her tone was more curious than argumentative.

"I suppose you'll figure it out, huh? Askin' an awful lot of questions for someone who's about to be freezin' their twat off in about half an hour." he said, watching with apparent glee as she fidgeted in place, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

Still attempting to make a stand, she didn't move, chewing away at that bottom lip as she hesitated there. He could smell that she was already turned on.

"Go on. Get to work." he ordered softly, exhaling smoke through his nose, staring into her eyes.

After a heartbeat, she seemed to accept her fate and slowly lowered herself down onto her knees in front of him. That, too, made his cock jump. Her cheeks had a visible rosy hue as she clearly struggled to arch herself at the right angle to make proper contact; after a few long seconds of her huffy sighs, he took mercy on her and tilted the toe of his boot more skyward, allowing her to begin to rub herself back and forth across the dusty leather in earnest.

He watched as her face slowly morphed from mildly confused concentration to blossoming arousal, the tint in her cheeks growing until it consumed her entire face.

"How does it feel?" he asked quietly, taking another long drag off of his smoke.

"It feels good." she huffed, a light sheen of sweat glinting on her soft skin.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair at that, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, her eyes flying open to gaze up at him, wide and wet.

"Feels good what?" he demanded. "Given you an awful lot of chances on that, kid. Y'know, insubordination usually calls for more severe punishment."

"It feels good, sir." she replied, her hips stuttering slightly as she struggled to move them with her head fixed in place, her eyes falling shut again. He found it a little surprising that the mild pain hadn't stopped her or made her complain more. If anything, she'd seemed to like it. He took note of that for later.

"Tsk. Well, it's supposed to be a punishment, but I guess I can't help it if a little freak like you gets off on polishin' my boots. Guess I did know a guy in the service who really liked bein' made to scrub the floor, but, between you and me, I think he might've had a little thing for bein' pushed around and told what to do." Cooper's voice fell to a secretive murmur as he spoke to her, watching her eyes dart away as he teased her.

However, as he watched her slide herself back and forth across his foot, he found it more and more difficult to resist the urge to touch himself. When her eyes didn't open for several minutes, focused entirely on the sensation, it would seem, he took the opportunity to palm his cock, his hips eventually beginning to rock against his hand. That movement caught her attention, her gaze burning into him as she watched; this was a button of hers for whatever reason. Feeling emboldened and somewhat sure that she was too distracted to cause trouble, he quickly undid his belt and fly and tugged his erection free, a shiver running down his spine as he gave himself a few experimental pumps in the cooling air.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated how coherent she still was, her head remaining low, but her right hand creeping up his leg towards his hand. He jerked his chin towards her, sending her jumping back a bit. However, she didn't look fearful, more chastened.

"Don't. You. Fuckin'. Dare." he growled, his hand not stilling for a moment. "If you touch me, I'm gonna put you over my knee and spank your little ass until you can't sit right for a week."

His threats only seemed to make her hotter, a throaty moan leaving her as she began to hump his boot with increased speed, all attempts at preserving any semblance of her dignity abandoned in the pursuit of her orgasm. The grip he was maintaining on himself tightened, and a growl ripped out of his chest in response as he fought to keep his eyes open and on her. If he could still sweat, he'd be pouring it just like her.

Cooper's leg jerked involuntarily as a particularly strong wave of pleasure shot up his spine, digging the toe of his boot harder into her weeping little slit, and she keened in response, her body beginning to twitch all over like it did when she was nearing her end.

"You close, honey? You wanna cum?" he asked feverishly, rapidly sprinting towards his own finish line.

She nodded rapidly, her breasts heaving with her strained breath as her nails dug into his thigh.

"Please, please, please..." she breathed over and over.

"Look at you, just cleaned the thing and you're about to make a mess all over it because you're such a needy little slut." he chastised, breaking down into a harsh whisper as he seized her by her hair once more, his cig hanging loosely from his lips. "Go on, baby. Cum all over my boot."

The labored whine she let out as she lost herself all over him, and the blissful way her face contorted as she cried out, was more than enough to finish him off, his release spurting all over his hand and stomach. They both growled and groaned their way through their shared release, her collapsing against the inside of his leg as she panted heavily. Working to control his own breathing, he let his head fall completely back with a blunted "thud" against the frame of the chair, releasing his grip on her head.

After a few quiet moments, they both rather sheepishly peeked at one another. He held his spend-covered hand up in front of her face, the mess catching the fading light as he reached out towards her.

"You're gonna have to clean that up, too." he said softly, rubbing some of the slickness across her lips, barely holding back a groan when the little pink tip of her tongue darted out to lap at his fingers as they passed by.

"Mmm. Yes, sir." she responded, gently laying her temple against the side of his knee, those big, round eyes slowly slipping shut. Cooper reached out and laid his palm against her head, petting her now-rumpled hair with more affection than he'd like to admit, admiring her in the golden-red hue of the evening sun.

"Don't get too comfy there, sweetheart." he said after a few quiet moments, his cock beginning to stir again. "Don't forget, I've got another boot."

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet girl pt.6

Dbf William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

Synop: Your parents are throwing a neighbourhood party, you're looking forward to it. It's too bad you're going to miss all of it.

Warnings: smut, oral, taking of virginity, public sex, coercion, corruption and manipulation. William is pretty evil ngl.

Imma just link to the masterlist, this series is getting well too long lol.

A/n: I've never written cherry-popping before I hope this is okay. This is so far from my experience it's hard to believe it'd be the same even lmao. Also my writer's block has been so fucking bad recently, I need all the slack you're willing to give.

It sounded great when your parents first put it to you: a barbeque a few weekends from now, the whole neighbourhood invited to enjoy some good food and sunshine. The perfect excuse to flaunt a gorgeous lavender dress you bought months ago, it caught your eye on a sales rack, a perfect flowy fabric that clung to all the right places. Your size, a match made in heaven. You can’t help but shiver with the thought of how William will react to it, handsy is the word that springs to mind, not that you are against that. 

~

The day of, you step into that dress, the fabric soft and almost soothing around your body. It’s hot today and you’re glad for the lightness of the material, though you think that maybe the heat on your face is from anticipation. He’s all you think about, the danger of him asking you to touch him with your dad barely 10 feet away, the beautiful feeling of his fingers inside you tearing an orgasm out of you like nothing you've had before, the nights you’ve spent calling him and getting off. You’re addicted to all of it and it has your fingers dipping into your panties at any given opportunity.

You pad downstairs about ten minutes before people are set to arrive, finding your mum and dad hurrying around. “Oh you look lovely, sweetie.” Your dad says in passing, carrying an overly big bowl of salad towards your dining table. It was full of all kinds of buffet bits, but enough space left for guests to contribute things, as tends to be customary. Right now the amount of food seems over the top, but you know that once things get going your house will be full of everyone with a tie to the community.

… 

And you were correct, your house is swarming. People in the living room, the dining room, outside, all chatting and greeting neighbours that ‘they really should see more often’. You’re herded around groups of people by your mum and dad, introductions and re-introductions said to what felt like hundreds, but was likely only twenty or so. You are as polite as you can, smiling through small talk about your education and how much you’ve changed since last year, but your heart’s not in it, your eyes are constantly flicking around for William. It should be easy to spot him, he's a tall enough fella, but your searching keeps turning up empty.

Your glancing around the room is interrupted by a squeaky, “Oh my god, y/n?” You turn to where the voice is coming from, instantly recognising the girl of your age who was squeezing past your dad to get to you. “I haven’t seen you since… school.” She pulls a face at the word ‘school’ which you commiserate with, you can’t place this girl's name but the mention of school makes you frown. Your manners are important to you but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that if you haven't seen someone in years, there’s most likely a reason why.

“Yeah… It’s been a long time.” You agree, giving her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. In the middle of this awkward interaction you clap eyes on him and your heart jumps in your chest in such a ridiculous way you pray it doesn’t show on your face. He’s talking to a bloke you know from three or four houses down, a small smile on his face that has an air of amusement like he’s laughing internally at the gentleman’s expense. 

You are almost physically pulling away from this conversation but the lass doesn’t stop talking, oblivious to your lack of interest as she tells you all about her cosmetology school and her apprenticeship. You just don’t have the rudeness in you to walk away so you grit your teeth and ride out the conversation, eagerly watching William out of the corner of your eye.

It takes so long trying to get her to leave that by the time she’s got out her phone and is part way through finding you on instagram, William is slinking out of the room. The moment she’s done, you brush her off with a polite see you later, leaving the room in the path your bad influence had used. You’re experiencing some kind of withdrawal from not having his attention, it’s pathetic but it’s true, and achingly obvious in how you walk your house searching for him… again. 

You find him in your living room and you edge through a group of chatting neighbours to get through to him and as you get near still unnoticed you find your mum standing beside him, looking up at him and talking through a wide grin. “It feels like a long time since I’ve seen you properly, William.” It takes you no effort to lock onto your mother’s words, they make you frown instantly. 

“Yeah I’ve been busy with work.” He shakes his head, “I’ll have to come and see you and Chris soon.” And your lovely daughter, he mentally adds, though some of the intention must show on his face because the woman in front of him puts her hand on his arm. His eyes widen. 

“Anytime.” She says, doubling down on it, “I mean it, any-time. I like having you around.” Something about the tone of that turns your frown into a scowl. It’s flirtation, and you burn with anger. Jealousy, yes, you can’t help it, it’s instant, but for god’s sake your dad is right fucking there. You don’t consider how you could be overreacting, the indignation is too strong, so you leave the room in a huff, feeling like a fucking idiot for spending your whole day looking for a bloke who clearly wasn’t looking for you. It stings and in a flurry you remind yourself that all the things you’ve done with him are only your first times, not his. 

You’re out of the house before you know it, keeping your head down as you go far to the bottom of your garden where a hedge gives you respite from turning heads. You’re not crying, but you’re not a mile away from it either. Maybe it’s that withdrawal again, but you stand in the corner feeling let down, lonely and stupid. Anger at your mum outweighs anger at William, but the latter is still strong. 

You stand there for a while, getting a better grip on your emotions, you need enough of a hold to walk back inside and either brave more of the party or hide away in your room. This is when people need a smoke, you think to yourself, wondering if a fag could actually help relax someone in this state.

Calming yourself down takes a good few minutes but once you get there, you decide that yeah, you need some quiet for a bit, then some thought about why you went off the handle so quickly, why you’re so enamoured by William. But to do that you’re going to have to escape this whole party, preferably without being noticed because if someone asks you how you are right now, you don’t know how you’re going to react. 

So you slip out your hiding place, peeking around the hedge to see the silent picture of people through your back windows. Here we go. You cross the garden pretty quickly and soon get your hands on the door handle into the house, you step inside managing to smile at the few heads that turn your way. But that smile soon drops away when he appears. Your heart jumps at the sudden confrontation, so long of trying to catch him but now you don’t want him anywhere near you. 

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” William’s voice drips with honey and you try to ignore the warmth already settling in your core, but you know it’s a battle you won’t win.

You turn from his invasive gaze, hands a little shaky as you try to close the sliding door behind you. “Hey, where are you going, hm?” His eyes narrow at the blatant way you’re ignoring him, he can’t hold a serious expression though so a confused smirk rests on his face, how sweet you look with that pet lip. He puts his hand on your arm, halting the process of closing the door easily, no force necessary, the touch is enough. “Come with me outside, sweetheart, come on.” 

You look up at him frowning, partially from previous anger, partially from fear that someone else will see, how he can dare to be so obvious is beyond you. There’s no room to reason with him, not when he’s already opening the door again, already guiding you through it, that grip still present on your arm. It’s not a firm hold, it’s barely there but, the skin to skin contact has you enthralled. 

He takes you all the way back to the hidden spot you left just minutes ago, only this time it doesn’t feel like such a safe space. Once out of view he lowers his head down to look you in your face, not liking when you turn away and so catching your chin with his thumb. “Are you alright, sweet thing? What’s wrong?”

His sickly sweet tone is enough to spark a flash of anger as bright as it is sudden. “Why don’t you ask my mum?” You snap, your voice much more petulant than it is clever, the patheticness of it has your cheeks hot but you double down. William just grins, confusion leaving his brow furrowed. This is new, he thinks, you’ve never taken that tone with him before, it’s fun, shiny-new and exciting. 

You continue, provoked by him not understanding what you mean, “...You seemed to be enjoying her company anyway...” You speak dejectedly, your jealousy running riot with you. You want to pull away from him, the lack of genuineness in his expression inflames you, he thinks it’s all a game and you can’t believe you’ve only just cottoned on. 

William hums in acknowledgement before dropping his hand from you, you’re glad that he’s taking you that bit more seriously but it’s downright shameful how you miss the contact already. 

It takes a lot in him not to laugh, the unfounded envy practically has your eyes glowing. This is good though, such passion all from feeling cast aside, you so desperately want him to want you and that is just perfect. For him. He faces your glare dead on, being very careful not to patronise you too much. “What exactly are you jealous of?”

You open your mouth to protest, hating yourself for being so easy to read. You know your bitterness is written on every inch of you, your closed stance, your harsh jaw, the immature tone of your voice, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s no point denying it, so you don’t bother. “There…” you stumble, having to abandon your daggers to continue, “You didn’t have to flirt with my mum right in front of my face like that… and my dad’s.” 

He nods, sighing before answering you through a slick grin, “I think maybe your mam was teasing me, a little.” That grin simply blossoms, thorough amusement peeking out of hiding, “But you more than anyone should know that flirting with me isn’t half as boring as that was.” 

You don’t have time to fight the way you flush, it’s not fair, are you really this easy to win over? He’s doing the William equivalent of batting his eyelashes at you and you’re falling for it, you must want to deep down. But you still don’t trust him as far as you could throw him, which is needless to say, not far. 

“Come on, why would I even consider your mother when I have her sweet girl looking at me so moody right now, huh?” You roll your eyes at that, moving to turn away and think for yourself but he stops you, his hands on you holding you still and muting the dull noise around you. “At least tell me what I can do to make it better. How can I earn your forgiveness?” He speaks with a certain glee, prideful of his art form, like you’re some puzzle he’s solved before. And with his face close to yours he adds mockingly, “Or have I got it already?” 

You want to touch him, shut him up, but you’re a mere corner away from the whole neighbourhood. “You’re slimy.” You speak honestly, well maybe you’re sugar-coating it even, “And I’m not stupid.” Your conviction is there, but the physical support isn’t, you’re looking up at him like a doe, breathing quicker than normal, your chest rising and falling fast in your new dress. 

He laughs, “True. But watch it, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He has something else to say, some other mocking teasing syrup, you don’t let him, throwing yourself towards him. Your lips press against his in a sudden desperate way, like you’ve something to prove. Your lack of finesse could be mistaken for hunger but he knows you better than that, he dominates the kiss without much effort, easily pulling you along with his rhythm. He likes you like this, smart, able to see through him, it turns him on. Because what’s better than spoiling a naive young woman? Spoiling one who knows it’s happening and can’t help herself either way. 

William breaks the kiss, hands eagerly taking in your shape, “Let me make you forgive me, right here.” As he talks his touch slides low, over your arse and making your back curve against him. “I’m dying to pull this cute dress up.” You need it, just whining some form of approval, wordless at that predator’s glint in his gaze. He slides his hand between your legs and you’re keen, shivering at the spark of pleasure and eagerly angling your hips for more. 

He pauses his touch for a moment, breath staggering as he thinks about what he’s going to do, you hardly notice for your own need. When you do look at him, you see him shaking his head, snickering at something unbeknownst to you. 

He moves then, debasing himself by dropping to his knees on the grass, hands grabbing your skirt fabric up above your waist band, gathering it there in one to rive your panties down with the other. The cool air invades you, unwarned exposure making you moan. “William-”

“Shush.” He chastises bluntly, as if his thumb wasn’t now resting against your clit and giving it a perfect gentle pressure. He knows what you’re going to say, “You don’t want anyone to see, huh? Well, bite your tongue. I don’t have to worry about mine.” The words are wicked with innuendo and you have to stifle everything in you except a sharp intake of breath when he shows you exactly what he’s doing with his tongue. 

It’s dirty, shame-ridden and debauched, but you’re at the mercy of his mouth devouring your cunt. Parting your seam to toy with the slick plea of your hole. You can hardly stand still, body shaking with fretful want, it’s too much and not nearly enough, you have to battle to keep quiet against the vindictive way your core is tightening. 

His tongue drags through your slit and he sniggers against you before cruelly sucking your bundle of nerves. You’re grabbing him, pulling him closer, trying to push him away, as you tingle with need for your end. He’s relentless, playing your instrument just right and you have no faculty to ask for respite. Your coil clenches tight and snaps, and you come undone right there in your garden, waves of bliss so bright your legs shake and you need his arms to hold you up. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t know if they’re because of your climax or the emotional whiplash you’ve just endured. You don’t have it in you to care.  

He pulls away from you and you watch over-blissed as he wipes your slick from his face on the back of his hand, letting your skirt fall to its rightful position. “Now that’s the perfect thing, I’ve missed.” He stands, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re a good girl on the phone but fuck there’s nothing like it in person.” 

You beam with pride, his praise so much nicer when you’re pliant and glistening from pleasure. How bad an idea that was isn’t lost on you, but it was worth it, even if now you have to pull your knickers up to hide the evidence. As you do, you see how filthy he is, mud coating his knees and you laugh. 

Struggling to explain yourself through the shocked giggles you manage to state, “Your trousers are ruined.” 

He looks down and sees why you’re so lost in laughter, he had weighed up his options though and tasting your sweet pussy was more than worth the dirt. William attempts to brush some away but it’s never going to happen, and so with a sigh he sniggers, “Am I old enough to have people believe I fell?” 

You burst out laughing at that, unable to regain yourself for a while, he deserves that, you think. After some time you are lucid enough to say, “Maybe say tripped instead of fell.” Your cheeks are shiny with both the fit of giggles and the aftermath of your activity, you look so delectable he hardly minds the state of his clothes. 

“Why don’t,” William begins, still smirking, and you give him as much of your attention as you can, “you show me your room? I’d like to see it in person.” He’s testing to see how much forgiveness he’s won, you know that, but the prospect of what’s to come is motivation enough to give him it. 

“Okay.” You agree, the idea of it has your chest tight but your core knows better, “Should I be scared?” You’re joking, mostly, your room is a different beast, much more personal. Somehow more bare than what you’ve just done. 

“Very.”

~

Walking through your house felt dangerous, like it’s written on your forehead that you’re doing something wrong. People are eating now though, too self-absorbed to notice the rabbit leading the fox to its burrow, which is for the best, all things considered. 

He follows you obediently, mind half-focused on your retreating form, the other half pondering just what he’s going to do about this raging erection he’s afflicted with. You looked so sweet taking him in your mouth, so eager to please, malleable. But your perfect unbroken cunt would be just delightful to rut against. As much as he wants to, he won’t- can’t deflower you just yet, not with all these people around to hear the squeaking of bedsprings, hell, the squeaking of you. The idea makes his cock throb and he’s already palming himself before you reach the landing. 

“This one.” You say, opening the door for him, your voice sounds much smaller than it did two minutes ago. You are scared, all jokes aside. 

He moves past you inside, you’re the one to shut the door, sealing the two of you inside your bedroom. How out of place he looks, this huge hulking figure in your untainted room, the walls pastel, the sheets light and the curtain frilled. 

“I could have told you your room looks like this.” His grin is wolfish, the imposition feels very metaphorical and he revels in it. He’s absent-mindedly touching things, a bottle of perfume on your drawers, then a teddy on your bed, you like how they look in his hands, delicate, breakable. 

You find yourself speaking before the words are clear in your mind, “William…” He turns to you, still holding the fucking bear, visible overjoyed to be in your private space, piece by piece you’ve let him in here, first through a camera now this, it’s all very correct. 

“Hm?”

You’re flummoxed for words, arms folded across your chest in some vain effort to keep yourself together, “I want to t-touch you. On th-the bed.” The request takes a part of your soul with it, it’s unveiled and glaringly obvious, but there’s no other way to say it, that is what you want. Well, some of it. 

Chuckling, he throws the teddy aside, “That is the best thing anyone has ever asked me.” He means it, he could touch the peak now with just how pretty you’re talking to him. 

He moves slightly and you interrupt him, the rest of your want raising its whiny head. “You’ll have to take t-that off.” You’re pointing at his trousers and he laughs, remembering the muck decorating his legs, but the laughter dies quickly and he fixes you with a quizzical look, eyes narrowed as he again reads you like a book. 

“Because of the mud, or another reason?” He teases and you bite your lip, your answer wearing you, more than the other way around. Much like the way smugness is wearing him. “I know you like to see, you’re quite fascinated, aren’t you?” He grabs himself as he speaks, crude, garish and vulgar, and it prickles your sides. 

“You like to see me.” You retort, trying not to feel the embarrassment your brain really wants you to. 

“Very true.” 

…

Fascinated is perhaps the right word, you are fascinated by him. It’s more than just that he’s handsome or you find him attractive, it’s curiosity, desire to understand. The broadness of his shoulders, the muscle on his arms, the hair on his chest, his legs, his cock; it is fascinating. 

You start off sitting beside him on your duvet, enjoying the sight of him with his dick in your hand. Observing what your action is doing, how his breath changes for you, then a deep groan when you smear the precum beading on his tip. It’s driving you crazy and in a sudden realisation you need more. You want it all, want to know how his thickness is going to feel inside you, good, bad, dirty and ugly, you need it. 

And you tell him.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                The view of William above you is insane, the dark greying hair trailing down his chest leading your gaze down to the sight of him stroking his cock, positioned above your cunt. He presses against you occasionally, your hot slick beckons for him and he thrusts himself through it, restraint a heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s maddening. 

“Please…” You whine, any trace of dignity you had is long gone, you’re corroded, worn down to your bare minimum and you need him to feel the same way. 

He takes his eyes off your glistening cunt to flash you a devastating smirk, “Please, what?” The teasing makes you shift underneath him, desperate for more, that’s just how he wants you. As he watches you he pleasures himself, it’s bloody stupid how weak your pretty hole has got him.

The lewd words burn in your throat, there’s no debate in saying them, not anymore, “Fuck me… please.” You manage to choke out, but it still fails to convey your need to be filled. His fingers had made you see stars, but you’re greedy for more, you want him to come undone inside you. You want to drive him mad. 

Well, he didn’t expect you to say that. You want him to take your innocence right now? Right on your lacy fucking bed sheets? With your parents downstairs? Clearly you’re not thinking straight, you’re too fucked up and that is just delicious. Your plea makes his cock twitch in his hand, he wants nothing more than to stretch your sweet pussy around him but you could hardly handle his fingers. You hardly know what you’re begging for. 

“You want me inside?” As he speaks he rubs his cock over your pussy lips, there’s an almost sinister quality to his voice that makes your core tighten. 

You nod, squirming away from the teasing of your aching bundle of nerves; that’s exactly what you want. 

William sniggers, “I can’t, sweetheart. Not with everyone downstairs to hear.” You hardly notice the noises you make, but you’re vocal as anything, whining from the tiniest touch, he has no doubt his cock would make you scream. The reasoning falls on deaf ears, you don’t care because his power over you is too strong. You just want his cock inside you so he becomes as pathetic as you are. 

“Please.” You try again, this time shifting your body to roll your hips against his cock to show you’re serious, but your thighs quiver at the stimulation.  

In a sudden movement he seizes your jaw, forcing your gaze away from his cock on your swollen pussy to the dark look in his eyes. The restraint is visible, a clear crack in his in-control facade. He can’t help it, your begging is making him leak again, impatient precum oozing from his tip, begging alongside you for stimulation. How’s he supposed to hold himself back from this perfect untouched cunt right here asking him to deflower it?

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He speaks slow, a singsong tone to the words that’s a little sharper than intended due to the continued rolling of your hips. “It’s not to be taken lightly.” 

You watch him wide-eyed, understanding his words is a conscious effort. “It’s not just a quick fuck, sweetheart. It’s me breaking this little pussy. Taking your innocence.” He punctuated the filthy point by lining his cock up with your entrance, eliciting a terrified pang of excitement in your core. “Stretching you open. You know what that means?” 

He pauses but you don’t have the speech to answer, he thought as much, “Means it’s all mine. My little toy to use whenever I want. Break it over and over.” At this moment it doesn’t occur to you that this is the real William, not just slimy but the honest William who knows he’s bad, creepy, gross whatever you want to call it. The man who’s blatantly moulding you into something he can use, using your sexual naivety against you and playing your mind and body like a fiddle. 

You swallow, his words go straight to your cunt making you impossibly wetter. He looks down at you and his control slips from his fingertips, he knows you’re going to feel so fucking good around him, how tight and wet and fucking warm.

“That what you want?” He blatantly asks, the intention thick in the air. 

“Y-yes.” You start, your back arching a little, “I want it to be yours.” You know the words are dangerous, but you have no agency to prevent them from leaving your lips. “I want you to t-take it. Please.”  

He lets go of your jaw, a particularly mean expression possessing his face. “God, you are fucking stupid.” He speaks quietly but you hear, it stings and you’re unable to tell if he’s kidding or not. He wasn’t, you are stupid to let him get this far, and he’s stupid for going along with your begging.  

His cock is still notched tight against your entrance and he holds you squirming still with a hand on your hip. “You’re going to be quiet for me, alright? I’m giving you what you want.” His voice is thick but you hardly notice he even spoke, your heart is pounding and your whole body tense with anticipation. 

He parts your walls, pressing in slightly, just the head and your eyes ping wide. You’re wet, drenched even, ready for it but it still hurts. A noise escaped you, wounded, doubling when he presses just that little bit further. “Shh, fuck.” His curse is very telling, you’re strangling him already in the most perfect way, if he’s not careful he’s going to crack his own jaw with how tight it is in restraint. “I told you.” The words are harsher than he meant them, but seeing the tears already welling in your eyes he knows he was right. 

His hand comes over your clit, drawing a circle over the bundle and it works, a blaze of pleasure drapes over the invasion but it doesn’t distract you when he moves, forcing himself a lot further in your cunt. You cry out and in a sharp movement he covers your mouth, grunting at how you tense due to the sudden action. “Ah-You’re going to do it, sweet thing. Just relax, you’re tight as a fucking vice.” 

You try, blinking through tears, and focus on his rhythm on your clit, it’s better, easing. He moves, slowly pulling out then back in and you see it. The need for him inside, shaping your walls around him, your body squeezes him eager for him to continue. 

Your mouth is open behind his hand, muffled sounds leaving your lips, whining, mewling, hooked on the promise of overcoming the ache and snapping the coil inside you more than ever before. If your mouth was free maybe you’d say his name, or kiss him, or curse him, you don’t really know. His movement becomes better, you can take him, he knows you can. So he thrusts deep, making you accept him, your yelp is stifled and your teeth dig into the palm of his hand, it's unnoticed, overshadowed by the perfect feeling of you cunt swallowing him completely. 

“God,” He scowls. 

The pain dies again, settling back to the muted ache, you’re reeling, full more than should be possible, breathing frantically through your nose. He’s slow, pushing in and out of your hole considerately, as he’d be sure to tell you. And you quickly realise with a startling joy how he digs just right into a spot deep inside you. It’s almost blinding, engulfing you in a doubly quick need to end. 

Your cunt throbs and he flicks his eyes back to your face, what a good girl you are. He can feel the change in you, the rise of pleasure over pain, the way you panic at the growth of your end, your eyes say it all fearful of what’s going to happen. You’re close to an end, body burning and falling rigid underneath him. It hits you like a train, each time he shoves himself deep is electric, it's intense and you whiteknuckle just to take the pace he keeps as you cum around him. 

“Fuck, baby.” His words are edged with his own ruin, the rhythm of his pace growing brave, selfish, you’re taking it so well. And he loses it, no sense in him to pull out, he doesn’t care, your perfect cunt wants it. He’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet as his warmth spills inside you, thrusts sloppy to push his cum deep inside you. You whimper, it's a dirty feeling, but a right one and seeing the look on his face you realise that you were right, he looks as pathetic as you feel.

He removes his hand from your mouth, your skin red under his grip, freeing you to moan pitifully. You’re wrecked, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. You don't know how you feel, your climax was like something unreal and when he slowly pulls out of you, you feel empty. William was right, you’re changed. 

He sits beside your form still laid exactly as he left you, your pretty pussy flushed and shining. “You alright?” 

You blink, like you somehow forgot he was a person able to speak, “Yeah, I think so.” Your voice is hoarse as fragile as the rest of you and it makes him grin. 

He looks down at you, and just laughs, at you, at him, at the situation, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now then?” 

It makes you chuckle and you run your hand over your face. Yeah, what exactly should you do now?

[jo-writes-fanfic]

Love & Mischief

Loki x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature)

Warnings: There's nothing explicit, some allusions to sex, probably language, violence, and heavy descriptions of grief and loss, although there is somewhat of a happy ending.

Word count: About 2.9k

Synopsis: You're Asgard's goddess of love and loyalty, but you've lost your god of mischief, how do you move forward?

Author’s note: This is set in Thor Love and Thunder. Also if you've ever seen the last scene of the show Reign, it has an inspiration in this fic too. I've had a lot of grief and loss in my life lately and this felt very therapeutic to write. I've tried writing for Loki a couple of times but always chickened out, so I really hope y'all enjoy this and hopefully there will be more to come!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“And what are you the goddess of?” 

The words resounded in your head again and again and again.

When Hela said those words to you, years ago, you had fired back, so sure of yourself and your role in Asgard, your role in your life, your role in his life. 

But now…

What was a goddess of loyalty and love who no longer had love? Who no longer believed in such things as fate and security in love? 

Your powers should have died when he did. 

It was an odd pairing to many, you knew. But it worked perfectly, your strengths and weaknesses worked in tandem and created a love worth fighting for. 

But the fight was gone. 

The god of mischief (and betrayal- some would argue) and the goddess of loyalty and love were a match made in Valhalla. 

Until he was gone, ripped from you so violently that you still woke up screaming from nightmares regularly. 

You sat next to your king in New Asgard during another security council meeting. 

You were completely zoned out, thinking of bright blue-green eyes, dark curls, and a blade-thin smile. Valkyrie nudged you. “Hey, tone it down, you're bumming out the whole room,” she whispered. 

You sighed and blinked out of your reverie, and finally noticed that the mood of the room, despite the recent good news that had been received (you can’t remember what it was - honestly, you forgot to pay attention, these meetings were very dull and tended to drone on) was altogether glum. 

“Sorry,” you whispered back and reigned your mood in. 

Normally, your powers were extremely helpful; tightening the bonds of loyalty in those around you, increasing love in both romantic and familial bonds, reading others moods - often influencing them, and sometimes even manipulating loyalties. But currently, drowning in grief as you had been the past several years, your powers were more of a burden than anything. 

The heaviness in the room instantly lightened, and the conversation flowed in a more productive direction once more. 

“We need to talk about these moods of yours,” Val said once she was satisfied that the meeting was going better. 

“No thanks,” you grumbled, and promptly zoned out once more. You really preferred it when Thor was also a mess, before he got his shit together, and you weren’t the only one that hadn’t moved on from the repercussions of the war with Thanos. But you know what they say, misery loves company. And back then, no one nagged you as much to get your shit together. 

“A little help here?” the king asked you, irritation in her tone. 

Another disagreement had broken out, this time a fist fight. Honestly, you found it amusing and were inclined to let it go on for a while, but when Val glared at you, you stood up and clapped once. 

Everyone stopped their movements immediately and looked up at you. 

“Enough,” you said sternly. “Asgard, though we may have differing opinions, we all fight for the same thing, the prospering of New Asgard. Remember that,” you ordered, infusing the room with compliance, reminding them of their bonds of loyalty. 

Everyone looked sheepish and sat back down. 

You flourished a hand to Val and said, “My king,” giving her the floor. 

She gave them all a rousing speech, it was honestly quite good, some of her best work, and then ended the dreadful meeting early, much to your relief. 

“Good job, boss. Well, I’m off-” 

“Not so fast,” she said as she caught your arm. 

You sighed once again. 

“Do we need to talk about this? About Lo-” 

“Don’t say his name,” you hissed and the tension in the room raised significantly as your anger and grief filled the space, making the large room feel claustrophobic.  

She sighed and took your hand. 

“Look, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through and what you’ve lost. We can all feel it from time to time and I know it’s an incredibly heavy burden. I’m just concerned for you and want to help you,” she said. 

With tears in your eyes, you nodded. 

“I’m concerned about me too,” you mumbled. 

“What can I do to help? Tell me.  Anything,” she practically begged. 

“Nothing, unless you can drag him back from Valhalla,” you muttered and brushed past her. 

And life continued to trudge forward. As a goddess, never had such a short amount of years felt so long, an eternity really. 

You felt as if you were stuck in a time loop and every day was close to the same. 

You woke up and for a split second forgot he was gone and reached across your bed to find it cold. Then, a wave of grief hit you that was so heavy, each and every time, that you forgot how to breathe. 

Eventually you forced yourself out of bed, shoved some food in your mouth as you rushed out the door and met Valkyrie for early morning training. Then you usually sat by the sea and stared as the sun rose in the sky, thinking of him but trying so hard not to. And again, you forced yourself on. 

You completed your daily tasks as the King’s right hand goddess; meetings, meetings, and more meetings usually. Most nights you sat at the bar, watched Valkyrie drink an ungodly amount, then when you got bored enough you walked through New Asgard. 

You walked and walked, thinking if you moved enough, if you stayed ahead of your sadness, maybe it wouldn’t catch you in the morning. 

It always did. 

Rinse and repeat. 

There were differences of course, sometimes, you had to leave New Asgard to do the whole ambassador thing. Occasionally Thor came to visit and brought along his various cohorts and problems.  

Today was one of those days. You were improving in your hand to hand combat skills, according to your King, through your daily rigorous training sessions, which pleased you since you spent most days feeling like you wanted to fight the whole nine realms. And then, following your routine, you sat on the cliffside and stared at the sea. 

You never even got to give him a proper funeral, you thought, which then made you think of Frigga and the beautiful funeral service for her that you had watched through tears. 

A voice called your name, you looked back and for a moment, a blink and you miss it moment, you saw him. A flash of green-blue eyes and inky black hair, your heart skipped a beat and the vision was gone. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear it, honestly these flashes of him you’ve been having lately should be concerning, but instead you clung to them, desperate for any connection to him that you could get. 

Although the true sight before you was one that made you smile, as Thor came up and wrapped you in a bear hug. 

You wheezed and when he finally put you down he chuckled heartily. 

“How are you?” he asked and you gave him a look like he should know the answer to that question. 

“Well I have something that should cheer you right up,” he said as he steered you back towards the town. 

“Does it involve needing my help to fight another dangerous life-threatening bad guy?” you asked wryly. 

“Perhaps….” he said. 

You huffed a laugh and said, “I’m in.” 

The threat you were fighting turned out to be a whole lot more dangerous and life-threatening than you anticipated. 

Which is how you found yourself on a ship with Thor, Jane, Valkyrie, and Korg on an unfortunate adventure to confront the God Butcher. 

Watching Thor and Jane fall back in love was not doing much for your mood. Val handed you another drink and you downed it. 

“Hey, hey, you’re totally bringing down the vibe, mate. This is supposed to be about love,” Korg said to you. You huffed and rolled your eyes. 

You made an effort to lessen the dark cloud you’d brought on the ship. 

“Do you think you’ll ever find love again?” Val asked you, after she confessed that she’d avoided any serious relationships for decades. 

“No,” you said, like it was final. 

“Really?” Korg asked. “Shouldn’t the goddess of love fall in love easily?” 

You shot him a glare. 

“I love. I love a great many people. But true love, like soulmates and shit, that only comes once in a lifetime. And after you’ve had it, you’re pretty much ruined for anything less. So no, I don’t think I’ll ever truly find love again,” you said with a sigh. 

“Heavy,” he replied and you cracked up. 

You laughed so hard you snorted, and at first your friends looked at you in shock, then joined you in laughter, and the room filled with love once again, the love of friendship, and you realized you’ve been overlooking the amount of love you actually had in your life due to your grief. 

You grabbed Val’s hand and patted Korg’s disembodied head, and watched Thor and Jane reignite their flame of love. 

“I love you all and am grateful for all the support you’ve given me,” you said. 

“No final confessions,” Valkyrie said, “this is not the end for any of us.” 

You nodded and then the ship reached its destination. The shadow realm yawned open in front of your vision and you gulped. 

You had this horrible feeling, like dread, in the pit of your stomach, and you saw him again. That flash you’ve seen so many times recently, but more and more frequently since this misadventure started and that dread molted in your stomach into resolve. 

You were certain and you were ready. 

Of course the plan went immediately sideways. You crossed swords with Gorr the God Butcher and your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. 

Yes, your sword fighting skills had improved, but not enough to be a good match for a seasoned warrior and god killer. 

“What are you the Goddess of? Are you even worth my sword?” he growled out. 

You gritted your teeth and went on the attack. Your rage filled the space as you dodged, slashed, and pushed him as hard as you could. 

You could hear your friends yelling, but you couldn’t lose your focus even for a moment as he pushed back and fought with skill beyond your own. 

And you realized you’d been doing this all wrong. You were fighting without your biggest asset, your own natural gifts and abilities. The powers that made you a goddess of Asgard. 

He didn’t notice your impact on his mood because your rage didn’t even touch the deep well of his own, he didn’t feel your rage due to the mountain that was his own. 

No, rage wouldn’t work, you thought, and as your swords crossed again you used your other hand to grab his. 

Your power was more potent when you were skin to skin.

You poured love and loyalty into your enemy, thinking only of happiness and good memories, trying to lessen his rage. Trying to decrease his fight, hoping to convince him to put down his sword. 

Your breath caught into a gasp as his emotions infected your own. His love and loyalty were intertwined with an ocean of grief. Just like your own. 

And you were drowning. 

His emotions, his rage at the injustice and unfairness and unending sadness felt so close to your own emotions that you were thrown back into a memory. 

Your worst memory, actually, the day you lost him for good. And you knew your enemy was in his worst memory as well. The origin of his grief. 

Just like you watched the origin of your grief as it unfolded in front of you once more. The reason for your nightmares, the reason you woke up screaming, you stepped back and gasped as the memory overcame you. 

And Gorr did the same. 

You think the sound might be the worst part. Loki’s choking. Or maybe it was the snapping sound, like a branch, a snap that ended everything for him. And for you. 

And then there’s the sight. You couldn’t even describe it, it was too awful to explain. You’ve never spoken about it, even in the therapy sessions your King forced you to attend. 

He thudded to the ground and you gasped as the vision cleared. 

You were drowning in your own grief and it was clear Gorr was more accustomed to drowning than you. 

He recovered one second quicker, and your battlefield reflexes were not quite up to par. 

You slashed your sword up but all it did was clang against his where it was embedded in your stomach. 

All the air whooshed from your lungs. 

“You are not a god that deserves death, are you?” he said as he cocked his head. “But you lost faith in yourself, in what you stand for.” 

You weren’t even sure you felt the pain. Maybe the shock inhibited your ability to feel any pain. You’d been injured before, sure, but you always felt the sharpness of it. But of course you’ve never been hurt this severely. 

You tried to speak, but it came out as a groan. 

“I am sorry,” he said and slowly slid the sword from your abdomen and you fell to your knees. Blood gushed and you saw that flash again. 

“Beautiful,” you mumbled as you saw the flash of a wry smirk, eyes full of love, and a hand outstretched towards you. Beckoning you. 

Finally, you thought. 

The last thing you heard was Thor roaring and your king calling your name as she caught you before your body hit the ground. 

There was darkness, utter darkness, and then a solid weight beneath you. 

You realized you were laying down. You were laying on the most comfortable bed you’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. 

Sleeping? Are you sleeping? Wasn’t there something…something painful? You couldn’t remember. 

You blinked your eyes open and let out all the air in your lungs. 

Your eyes filled with tears, this time happy tears. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you cried happy tears. 

Loki laid beside you, close enough for you to touch, staring at you with such love in his eyes that tears spilled down your cheeks. 

“Oh,” you gasped. 

He reached out and cupped your cheek, wiping the tears away. 

You sobbed, and he shushed you even as he pulled you closer. You buried your face in his bare chest and he crushed you against him, so tight, tight enough that you were sure he would never let you go again. 

He ran his hand up and down your back, and with a start you realized you were void of clothes as well. 

You awoke in the afterlife just as you would have every day of the best years of your life with him; naked in his bed after a night of making love with adoration in his eyes as he watched you sleep. 

You took a shuddering breath and pulled back to look at him in the eyes once more, your hands never leaving his body, you ran them up his chest, across his face, twirled your fingers in his hair. 

“This is Valhalla, isn’t it?” you asked. 

“Yes, my love,” he said, and kissed the fresh tears on your cheeks away. 

Then he kissed your lips. It was a delicate thing at first, but then it molted and grew until it felt exactly like it used to. The kiss cemented you to him, secured you right where you should be, where he had been waiting for you. 

And all of the pain you experienced before that kiss didn’t even matter anymore. Because you loved him and he loved you, and that’s all. 

His lips moved against yours and your tears mixed with his and it was perfect. You loved him, that’s all. 

You weren’t angry at him for dying and leaving you alone. You weren’t drowning in heavy emotions anymore. You held no grudges or hard feelings over anyone or anything anymore, not now that you were in the arms of your greatest love once more. 

“It’s been so long,” you gasped out when he pulled back and smiled. 

“I know,” he said with a small smile. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“I am as well,” he replied, simply and sweetly. 

You felt light as a feather. You felt released from your pain and anguish. You were with him again, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Isn’t the introduction to Valhalla traditionally supposed to be much different?” you asked. 

He smirked and mischief twinkled in his eyes, “It is possible I managed to bend some rules for you.” 

You huffed a laugh and pulled him into another kiss. One that could’ve lasted seconds or could’ve lasted a lifetime. It didn’t really matter. You had eternity in the hall of warriors with your Loki, and you were secure knowing you died fighting for the ones you loved. 

“Would you like me to give you the grand tour?” he whispered in your ear as he pulled back from your lips and began kissing his way across your skin. 

“Maybe later,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him atop of you. 

“We have an eternity,” he promised and kissed you, slow and deep. 

Tagging those who showed interest in this fic (thanks for the support!) : @thespiralstaircasewriter @bellaisasleep @elly-hiddlesherloki @izhunny @drachenkinder @spacefloosie

[ingravinoveritas]

Just saw a post as well as a thread on Twitter about an incident that occurred at the stage door of Nye tonight and I am so sad and sickened to hear about this "fan's" behavior, both toward Michael and toward other fans. I've done many stage doors in the past (the most recent was going to see Ink on Broadway just before the pandemic) and seen a lot of entitled/unruly behavior from fans, but this woman and her mother barging into the bar, demanding a meet and greet, and then coming out and being horrific to other fans really takes the cake.

Michael works his ass off for endless hours to put on an amazing show every day/night. He gives 110% to every line, every step, every note in that musical number. Nye is a physically demanding play/role, and to get a show of that caliber from someone who is a master of his craft is more than anyone could ask for. Stage door--as lovely as it is, as fun as it can be--is not something he is required to do, especially when he's already feeling exhausted or under the weather. One thing the last several months have made clear is that Michael loves meeting fans--taking pictures, giving hugs, signing stuff, and just connecting with people. But the fact that this is not even the first time we've heard about fans going into the bar to bug him should be more than enough to give us all pause.

No one is entitled to Michael's time or attention. This particularly reminds me of an incident on Twitter a few years ago where one fan and their friends would not stop tagging Michael and demanding that he say something they wanted him to say. He'd been so incredibly giving and generous of his time with fans up until that point...and yet the second he drew a boundary, that fan and some others turned on him. Amazingly, that alone didn't put him off of engaging with the fandom entirely, but I have been in enough fandoms in my life to know that it is exactly behavior like this that will ruin things for everyone.

It also seems that Michael did come out following this incident tonight but had to leave, and he actually apologized to the nice fans who were still waiting (while apparently looking visibly upset himself). I know he apologized once before as well after a different fan went into the bar to get him, but we're beyond absurdity at this point. That Michael feels compelled to apologize for something that was not even his fault and especially after what that fan did absolutely breaks my heart, and is something that just should not be happening.

The run of Nye at the NT is nearly over, and I hope this won't put him off of doing stage door in the future (either for the remainder of this run or when it transfers to Cardiff), but I honestly would not blame him one bit if it did. What a loss it would be, though, both for the fans and for Michael...

[namelesssfreak]

Jeremy Knox Theory

Made by an only child but I'm autistic and hyperfixating rn so hear me out (i also tried to cut down words this still ended up being over 2200)

Unpacking Quotes

'Jeremy made it over for dinner every night that week, apparently uninvited from the family table over the state of his hair. He laughed it off when he explained it, but Jean saw the shadows in his eyes and the dark look Cat and Laila exchanged as soon as Jeremy turned his back.'

Honestly, I like the theories that his family don't like the hair cause it makes Jeremy look more like either his dad or the unnamed brother, but the homophobia ones also make sense

Also whatever the reason was, Cat and Laila know it

'Jean knew nothing about cars, despite technically owning one, but he knew money when he saw it.'

'Cat looked weary as she pocketed it, though she had given up protesting his so-called charity a year ago. It wasn't about the money, so he didn't take it personally. Cat was more concerned with how many hoops it took him to pull it together when he was permenantly on his stepfather's bad side.'

"The right therapist can be legit life changing - just look at Jeremy for proof." She jerked a thumb over at Jeremy, who didn't look at all concerned to be snitched on. "I'd say you should ask for her number since we all know she's good, but I don't think any of us can afford her."

So Cat worries about Jeremy getting money from his stepfather, and it's completely plausible that his stepfather paid for therapy because of family image, but Jeremy having an expensive car makes me wonder how recent the struggle to get money is, like if he was on good terms with his stepfather at one point and that was when he got the car

"I wasn't born a Trojan, right? My high school team was just like every other school out there. So competitive, so much bad-mouthing, so many put-downs. And it was just...exhausting, playing like that. All that pressure on one side and all that antagonism on the other." He clapped his hands together as if crushing his past self between the two.'

Surely alluding to Jeremy being not the best person in high school, or anger issues Jeremy

"Jeremy has- three. One sister, two brothers. The older brother's an absolute tool, but there's bound to be a jerk or two once you pass four kids." Jean idly wondered what she'd changed at the last minute and why, but he watched her nervously push her fries around her plate and decided not to ask.'

On this, I think Jeremy only has the three siblings (Bryson, Annalise, and unnamed). I've seen people theories that there's more than three because of her pause, and the line about passing 4 kids, but right before that Cat mentions that she has 6 siblings, so I think it's slightly a nod to that, and her trying to change the subject into more light hearted she hesitated before saying 3 so that Jean doesn't pick up on or doesn't dwell on it. And I like to think she hesitated before saying 2, because I love the dead brother theory, and it seems the most likely to me. Cat could've said 3 instead of 2 either because she doesn't think Jeremy has told Jean yet or she knows he hasn't.

"What's Grandpa think of this investment of yours?" It was obvious bait, but that couldn't keep the edge out of Jeremy's fierce, "He is not our grandfather."

I reckon the investment is probably Jean or all of the Trojans, but I digress. I feel like Jeremy using "our" makes me think that even if his grandfather is homophobic, that's not the main issue Jeremy has with him, cause it seems like there's reason that Jeremy doesn't want his siblings (or at least him and Annalise) to be related to him (me when I struggle to put thoughts into words) TLDR I'm wondering if it's something worse than just homophobia to warrant the use of "our" and not my.

'His phone chimed, and Jeremy looked down to see William’s name on his phone. "Bryson is in the sitting room with Mr Wilshire."

'He could hear voices echoing down the corridor where his stepfather and older brother were having an animated discussion, so he settled for a grateful smile in William's direction before hurrying up the stairs.'

I'm assuming from this that Bryson and Mr Wilshire are on good terms

"Like Wayne did." Jean considered that. "Maybe he will also kill himself." "That isn't a joke," Jeremy said, with unexpected ferocity. Cat winced but kept her eyes on Jean.'

If Jeremy does end up having a homophobic family then it's completely plausible that he may have attempted, but I'm also just a sucker for the dead brother theories

"We can call the police." "I'll send Jeremy away first." Rhemann said, like that would somehow win Jean over.'

Rhemann could have said this to Jean because he thought less people would make Jean more comfortable, but Jeremy was already waiting outside, so maybe he said it because he was under the impression that Jeremy had already told Jean about what happened his freshman year or at least why he doesn't like police officers, and if that's the case then it also means Rhemann and at a stretch the rest of the team (?) knows about it too, and this is not at all important but it's something I noticed

[About Annalise] 'He'd walked through a hundred hypothetical arguments with his therapist in preparation for the day he finally fought back, but every time the chance came, he watched it slip past in miserable silence.'

So whatever happened, between Jeremy and his family, is something that he could hypothetically argue his case for, if he's able to make arguments he could use against Annalise, then it's gotta mean he's not entirely at fault for whatever happened

'The receipt went into the zippered back of his wallet so he could file it later; it was always best to have a paper trail when dealing with his mother's bookkeeper.'

Okay stay with me but adding to the thing of Jeremy possibly not being the nicest person in high school, maybe his mother and stepfather have limits on his money because he spent really irresponsibly in high school?

'His family had its problems - all families did, he supposed - but never in his life had his mother raised a hand at her rowdy children. He couldn't fathom being struck by a parent.'

I feel like this gives us a hint on when his parent's divorce/mother's remarriage took place, seeing as Jean specified his father when talking about the scars, it's odd that Jeremy focused only on his mother in the above quote. Could mean that the divorce was from early in his life, and custody went to his mother, so he didn't see his father much?

"I've never been to Europe. Dad's been stationed there a couple times, but..." He shrugged and didn't bother to elaborate.'

Maybe his not bothering to elaborate is because he doesn't know much else about his father?

My full theory because it's clawing at the corners of my mind to be put into words:

So I'm assuming that his parents splitting up happened in early years, probably after Jeremy and all his siblings were born since I don't think any of them are half/step siblings but early enough that Jeremy doesn't have many memories of him. A bit of grasping at straws but this line, "I've never been to Europe. Dad's been stationed there a couple times, but..." He shrugged and didn't bother to elaborate.' if his dad is part of the army could mean that Jeremy doesn't see the man a lot. I've kinda got two running theories so branching off into those

Theory One:

We've got Jeremy and his three siblings being raised by his mother, because his father is unable to take any custody (due to travelling and being in the army, or for other reasons), which could in itself put some strain on the family with his mother having to raise all 4 kids herself. And then later on in high school Jeremy and his unnamed brother both want to go to a good uni where they can play exy (whether that's USC or not) and their high school team have a really important game at the end of the year that a lot of universities are visiting (this is me making a big leap on how close in age these two are) Depending on how much money Jeremy and his family have pre his stepfather entering the picture, the two of them could have been hoping to be signed with a college team (if I've not worded that right I'm so sorry I'm not American and don't play sports)

And at this game, Jeremy ends up playing really well, but it's at the expense of his brother's playing, so like Jeremy gets all his time to shine but his brother maybe not so much, and he decides to completely blame Jeremy for that which ends in a fight. In this fight, Jeremy's brother ends up getting really injured, like worse than Kevin, like to the point of being unable to play exy anymore. When his mother and new stepfather find out, they decide to completely cover the whole thing up and not tell Annalise and Bryson, part of which involves paying for Jeremy to go to USC for some reason (I can't be bothered to work out the logistics of). Which all works well and good, until Jeremy's brother takes his life because of not knowing what to do with himself after losing his biggest passion (this makes sense I promise codependency on exy is borderline a key theme in these books) and their mother and stepfather dig even more of a hole by covering that up and calling what happened an accident ("There's been an accident," he said, and grimaced like it wasn't at all the word he wanted to use.) and no one suspects anything until Jeremy's freshman year at USC, where he's perhaps not the best at getting on with his new teammates (probably particular the 5th years), still getting used to going from his high school team to the one at USC, also potentially homophobia (Nicky core) but they don't really have any acceptable reason to actually start anything with him, so one of them who had connections with the police (related or something) found out from them about the thing with the brother that had been covered up (He had half a mind to cut through the park, but the sigh of cops lounging at the nearer entrance had him sticking to the sidewalk along Exposition. There was little to no chance he'd know them, and no reason they'd recognize him, but Jeremy kept his gaze forward and his mouth shut until they were past.)

And decided to bring it up at the fall banquet, which caused it to get out and it was mainly contained between the USC team, but the whole team ended up finding out, and also Annalise and Bryson, who don't forgive him for it ("Overdue for a new scandal, hm?" She asked. "End the way you started?") (Once upon a time she'd gone to all his high school games, but once upon a time was before the fall banquet that broke their family in half. She'd gone out of her way to forget exy since then, and she'd never forgiven him for sticking with it.) ("Careful," Annalise warned him as she rummaged for her keys. "You already destroyed the family. Don't destroy my future, too.")

Theory Two:

My other theory surrounding Jeremy's childhood is that either 1 or 2 of his siblings went to live with his dad when their parents split up (their unnamed brother and either Annalise or Bryson) and I don't think that would have necessarily affected their relationship (with Annalise still going to his exy games, though the Bryson being homophobic theory isn't one I'm ruling out yet) Then Jeremy and his unnamed brother both wanted to get into either USC or a good university that they could play exy at, which makes sense if the unnamed brother was living with their dad he could have been hoping to get in to university through playing exy, while Jeremy had the option of his stepfather paying for him. Also potentially the two of them are still in contact but just going to different schools, and are on separate teams for a match between their schools at the end of the year that a lot of universities are attending, that Jeremy's team ends up winning, and then either this follows the same route as the first theory, or the brother gets into another university, and he and Jeremy get into their fight at the fall banquet of Jeremy's freshman year.

I could probably organise this slightly better and might come in and edit this when my copy of tsc gets here in a few days, but heres the random thoughts my brain spat out for now

[reasonsforhope]

One of the things that I really appreciate about this blog is that now, every now and then, when I hear about some new awful thing in the world, it will be in the context of "and this is what people are doing to fight it". That's so much less paralyzing.

(If you have any sources to recommend for experiencing more of that, me and my mental health would be further indebted.)

Ahhh, I forgot about this message, sorry! Been a hectic couple of months.

I absolutely have more sources!

One of the biggest is the media collaboration The Solutions Journalism Network, which focuses on just that: closing the massive gap between people reporting on problems and people reporting solutions.

I have a giant bookmark list of sources for this blog, for good news stories and hope, so here's a bunch of links! Roughly in order of how good I think they are (in terms of size of stories, previously uncovered stories, good editorial standards, accuracy, detail, number of stories, etc. etc.)

We're gonna start with the ones that do good news ONLY, because sometimes you fucking need that, and then below I'll link some excellent sources that have a higher than average number of quality pieces on good news, even though they also publish other stuff too.

Good and hopeful news sources:

Future Crunch - If you only read one of these sites, read this one!!! It's a MASSIVE biweekly roundup of international good news stories with really high quality reporting--a lot of UN and WHO and major NGO reports as their sources. I cry from hope at LEAST 30% of the times I read this, and tbh it used to be like 100%, about a year ago when I started realizing that hope for the planet and for humanity was something that was REASONABLE TO HAVE.

Reasons to Be Cheerful - Fewer stories, but FANTASTIC quality of reporting, especially on fantastic local stories, many of them in international communities, that you've definitely never heard of before

Positive.News - Good coverage and especially roundups, mostly Europe-focused.

Good News Network - This one is awesome for the high number and approachability of its stories, but unfortunately also includes more "That's not news that's just a heartwarming anecdote" and "That's not good news it's actually dystopian" pieces than I'd like.

Jane Goodall's Good For All News - Really awesome focus on international issues, a lot of news from Africa, a lot of news about youth organizers and youth-led projects, and a lot of focus on how helping the environment and helping communities are inextricably connected. Yall Jane Goodall is doing SO MUCH amazing work out there even at her age, and most people also have no idea.

Good Black News - Mostly posts on music and entertainment, and doesn't post all that often, but they're great.

Good Good Good

The Good News Hub

Only Good News Daily

( ) for Tomorrow - Directory of grassroots solutions to all types of issues and "proof that no solution is too small to have an impact"

A Plus - Dedicated to uplifting stories in video form. I'm sure they're awesome, I just don't rly use them bc videos can set off my sensory issues

The Happy Broadcast - Illustrated good news tidbits! I haven't been using them much but it looks like they've (recently?) added more text and sources to each image, so I might change that. Illustrations are pretty cute tbh

Sources that publish a lot of good news, but also other not good stuff:

Euronews.Green - Environmental section of European news org

Yes! Magazine - Excellent solutions-focused journalism, excellent focus on BIPOC content and underrepresented communities

TheMayor.EU - EU-focused, discusses a lot of good projects and cool local developments/programs

Grist - Solutions journalism, fantastic corage especially on environmental issues

Mongabay - Billed as "News & Inspiration from Nature's Frontline," they are amazing and have some of the best goddamn reporting I've ever seen. They mean "frontline" very literally: there's a TON of pieces about and by and interviewing communities on the front lines of environmental conflict, especially developing nations and Indigenous communities world wide. That said there's also a lot of bad news on nature's frontline still, while they report a lot of amazing and powerful good news, make sure you're in a resilient mood when you visit this site, because some of the stories are also pretty upsetting.

Indian Country Today and Native News Online - two of the leading news orgs for Indigenous communities in the United States. Kind of like Mongabay in that they have a lot of good news stories from Indigenous communities that often no one else is reporting on, but also plenty of coverage of things that are definitely not good, so better to read when you're in a resilient mood.

If you have any good news sites/sources you'd like to add, please drop them in the replies or comments! I'm always looking for new good news sources (though I def don't always have time to use all of them, rip!). Plus, let's support these sites by giving them some traffic!

We could all use more ways to get some more good news.

[13thdoctorposts]

I hate that RTD and Tennant and crew can't leave the show alone, that not only does RTD act like his formula is the only/best and not only is Tennant incapable of fucking stepping back from the role even after a grossly egotistical first run in the 00s, but a generation of fans only recognise/like Who when its in that image. And that hurts the show massively, it hurts other actors both in the sense that they aren't allowed from out of his fucking shadow and in that literal workplace abuse and media smear campaigns are excused when it happens around them.

Yeah, considering the most questionable things seem to happen under RTDs watch but the media never has anything to say negative about him compared to the level of shit levered at Moff but then even more so at Chibs, especially when Chibs seems like the most humble of the 3 is crazy.

I've read a lot of comments that Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun as big a show as Doctor Who he didnt have the skills for it, but lucky RTD is back because he has the skills to do it, the cope from people is crazy!

Especially considering the shit show that seems to exist now, leaks, upon leaks, upon leaks, Ncuti's announcement almost instantly being over shadowed by Tennant's announcement, and the fact that Ncuti's happened on a red carpet... they would have known it was about to be leaked and couldn't have come up with something a bit better even if it was on a short deadline? Didn't really matter I guess Tennent coming back and being announced the following week seemed more important to them. The Bi-regeneration, which within the show lore I don't care about, do canon braking things, but of course that left the 14th Doctor out there doing his own thing with his own TARDIS completely overshadowing Ncuti, the number of comments I've seen about 15th not being the 'real' Doctor or being a clone Doctor etc. and for what to keep Tennent around off camera? So that people would question 15th legitimacy? To make sure Ncuti couldn't have his time alone to shine? Then we have the recent articles saying Millie was dropped/axed... with no evidence spread across the internet and front pages of papers across the UK saying she was dropped/axe for inappropriate behaviour with no elaboration, just trying to ruin a 19 year olds career with nothing to corroborate or evidence given and neither Bad Wolf or The BBC bothered to come out and clarify anything even though these stories also unofficially announced a new companion... one that even Mandip Gill said she has kindly messaged and Radio Times has spoken about, but Bad Wolf and The BBC haven't even announced her and given her that moment. And a side note to that is the new white companion got introduced with the TARDIS by the New Doctor as an official announcement the woman of colour companion got announced in a bunch of papers bad mouthing the former companion, guess like Ncuti not everyone gets to have the same treatment. So Chibs wasnt good enough to Showrun?! No one knew Jodies casting announcement that didnt get leaked, even Dan got his own video announcement as a new companion, nothing to do with his writing but Showrunning the show with the limited BBC budget he had even though he was able to keep his house in order for over 5 years while RTD, with his big BBC/Disney budget doesnt seem to keep anything in order, and Chibs is the one who supposedly doesnt have the skills to Showrun.

I think we really did need a brand new show runner and Tennent should have only returned for the 60th if it was a multi Doctor story, Multi, not as in just with 15 in the last ep but with previous Docs. All the 60th did was give the 10th Doctor a happy ending that was seriously weird for all the Doctors who came after him, so narratively was just a WTF, like you just told a companion you had feelings for them and couldn't settle down and 3 days later settle down with a friend from 1000 years ago (in the doctors time) talk about jarring to watch, the episodes were not celebratory in anyway, wasn't written any better then 13 era despite what we were told we would get and left 14 there so people could make countless videos and write countless blog posts about how 15 isnt legitimate. what a celebration!

I think we needed a brand new show runner, no having 10 and 14 to make Tennent even more special by putting him in every Doctor line up from now on twice and had Ncuti come in. I understand He couldn't film for the 60th, but they managed to put a Christmas Ep out with him 3 weeks later maybe instead of the 60th and Christmas ep it could have been a movie length ep with Ncuti so filming could have started later.

Thats a pretty long rant sorry. But in conclusion we should have just moved forwards instead of bothering to look back, and given the new actors the lime light in the way they deserved.

[anogete]

Hi. Update of random shit in case anyone cares.

The scary test I was stressed over in the fall when I was posting my last fic? It was the CFP (Certified Financial Planner) exam. Yes, I passed it. The designation requires a bachelor's degree, so I had to go back to school to finish my last 10 classes. Then I had to take 7 more classes that are pre-reqs for the exam. Then I spent probably 700 hours attempting to cram everything you could think of related to personal finance (my god, there is a metric shit ton) into my head. The designation also requires 5,000 hours of experience in the planning field (which I thankfully already had). By the time I passed the test, I was no longer proud of the accomplishment, just relieved to have it behind me.

Work was intensely busy in November and December. I got little reading and no writing done.

I have a WIP featuring the Darcy/Rumlow pairing that has been languishing on my computer since 2020. To be honest, I've mosty forgotten what the conflict driving the plot was going to be. I think I was trying to tie it into the events of Wandavision. Took place after the show and had Monica Rambeau and Darcy kinda sorta working together and trying to figure out what, if anything, crossing the barrier that Wanda had thrown up did to them. Of course, Rumlow is alive and scarred and back with the good guys. And also really annoyed that his recent gunshot wound stuck him on desk duty watching the nerds complete their physicals as part of employee onboarding. Darcy doesn't want to have gym class with Rumlow, and Rumlow doesn't want to be there either but he's also kinda into the sassy brunette who tried to sweet talk him into passing her without making her run a mile. In the chapter or two I did write, the banter between Darcy and Rumlow was so fun, so I'd love to go back to it and try to move it along.

I got sucked into reading Draco/Hermione fanfic recently. Blame those damn Snow edits from the latest Hunger Games movie. Guys, I have never read those books or seen the movies, but blonde Tom Blyth is looking like the fanfic Draco of my dreams. How dare. This rabbit hole led to me deciding I needed to write a Dramione piece. It's maybe 6 pages and has gone nowhere even though I have a vague idea of the plot. My muse is struggling.

I found my old folder of all the fic I wrote in the past 20 years. There are still a couple hockey fics I haven't posted to AO3. There are also Anita Blake fics (I was a hardcore Anita/Edward girlie) and Harry Potter fics (don't cancel me but I used to write Snape/Hermione; NO student/teacher stuff though). I think I have an old Doctor Who fic featuring Nine/Rose (yes, I'm a Nine girlie). And a very old Forgotten Realms fic that paired Catti-Brie up with Jarlaxle. Look, I don't know. It was ages ago. With the exception of the hockey fics, I do not think any of these are of the same quality I've posted on AO3, but I've been toying with the idea of trying to clean them up and posting them so more of my work is archived together instead of spread over various fan sites. Does anyone have any interest at all in reading this shit? Like, at all?

I decided 2024 is going to be my book binding era. I bound isthisselfcare's Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love a couple weeks ago. I did all the typesetting with the help of some macros. Printed it, folded the signatures (the booklets that comprise the book), sewed them together with waxed linen thread, glued the text block together with some mull, and used chip board and book cloth to make the case. It feels and looks like a book, y'all! I could do a better job with lining the signatures up when punching the holes for sewing and with the measurements on the case, but overall I am pretty proud of it. If anyone is interested, I can link a nice tutorial series on TT and/or post progress pictures I took during my book binding experiment. I have to say, it's exciting to have the ability to put my fav fanfics on my physical bookshelf.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

ARCEE (TRANSFORMERS) (CW: Transphobia)

1.) Transformers has had a troubled history with female transformers as a whole. They didn't really even exist until Season 2. And while they've all gotten the short end of the stick until recently, Arcee, who kinda ended up The Main Girl (sorry Elita) has gotten the brunt of this mistreatment. Mostly talking G1 here.

Toys kept getting cancelled over and over even though she's a main, important character of Season 3. She didn't get a decent widely available toy that actually resembled her G1 version (first one was a Botcon exclusive Blackarachnia redeco which I disqualify because convention-exclusive spider is not what I was looking for, and Binaltech is just kinda a pink and white robot who looks nothing like her, just with her name slapped on) until 2014. I wish I could use bold here, because there's no such thing as uppercase numbers. Before that, you just kinda had to look at the toys from other canons and squint because Hasbro doesn't think the pink girl toy will sell well.

And misogyny present in the fiction? A lot can be summed up in a couple words, namely, "Furman, why?" While most people go with his excuses of not believing in Cybertronian gender, it really comes across as him seeing men as the default, neutral state of being, and women as something that must be explained. Poorly. Explained very poorly. Not to explain things in Tv Tropes terms, but I have to, it reeks of the 'Men Are Generic, Women Are Special' https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MenAreGenericWomenAreSpecial trope.

Let's get us started with Prime's Rib. Oh my goodness, Prime's Rib. So, Furman doesn't believe in Cybertronian gender (and male is seen as default), and this has reflected in his writing. He's going along perfectly fine writing his dudes in the US run of the Marvel comics, Arcee entirely ignored… but what's this? The connected UK comic has her. He can't just ignore her. So, well. He needs an explanation. Explaining a plot hole isn't bad. It's how he did it. Arcee was created in response to a feminist mob who was mad Cybertronians were all guys. I don't think I need to explain this one.

I'm too tired to explain her treatment in IDW now. Something something unnatural attempt to introduce gender into a genderless species, something something, really weird uncomfortable treatment, it's a long story and I'm not an IDW expert, read the TFWiki page for Spotlight: Arcee.

I'm sure there's more in other media, but I've blathered on way too long and I'm starting to get frustrated and tired and AGH FURMAN WHY. He's gotten better, too, definitely not judging his present self over comics that are from many years ago, but asdfghjkl

Ok fine, one more thing. This isn't G1 but Michael Bay stated in interviews that he gleefully killed her movieverse version off specifically because he didn't like her. It's not NECESSARILY misogyny motivated. I wouldn't deem it misogyny coming from a different director with a different film series. Transformers writers have had personal beef with random characters which they wished to unceremoniously kill off before--Animated Beachcomber comes to mind, even if the writers never got the chance. But it's also Michael Bay's Transformers we're talking about here. Can you blame me for thinking that?

Arcee has gotten better treatment in recent years. Furman's clumsy attempts to explain Arcee's gender in tbe IDW run were slowly retconned into some pretty decent trans rep by other authors, she's really just come into her own as a character. But it was a long and rocky road to get there, and I believe we all need to acknowledge that.

2.) Was initially introduced in the 80's transformers movie only after being strong armed by Ron Friedman, being the first female presenting robot to be seen in the show. bright pink, cause, ya know, female. has the most romantic involvement of any transformer ever across all transformations media, cause, ya know, female, and god forbid she be her own person when hasbro can stick to her to Some Guy. she was made trans in the 2005 continuity and was immediately made berserk as a result. marvel made her a freak science experiment to shame feminists. why does the robot have curves when no one else does istg

i love her too much to stand by idly while she's treated this way

3.) hasbro keeps trying to convince people that her and elita-one (another pink fem character) are actually the same. "who cares same lore different names. what do you mean they're different characters?" and constantly flips their lore, designs, and names around with every single FUCKING continuity ie transformers rise of the beasts where they use arcee's design but call her elita-one SMASHES MY HEAD INTO THE WALL bro there's a whole group of autobots called the "female transformers". i don't. there's so little female representation in this series that hasbro decided the best way to fix it would be… segregation, ig. arcee is apart of it obviously. elita-one leads it. reminds me that i should (and maybe sick a couple friends on this poll) make a submission for elita because JESUS CHRIST hasbro fucked her up also apparently in some continuities arcee is trans. upon getting bottom surgery it fucking. idk how turns her berserk?? it's so weird. mind controlled/sleeper agent in like half of the fucking continuities for some reason. in every single one of these continuities she either gets with Springer or Hot Rod and ends up betraying them. every single time why does the robot have boobs

NAOMI MISORA (DEATH NOTE)

1.) I know everyone is gonna submit Misa but honestly she had it worse.

She gets introduced as this competent lady who's gonna help find Kira but then she just, decides to show some teenager her real ID as a show of trust and whoops that's Kira.

Also part of her introduction was her fiance going "You don't need to worry about this tracking down the killer nonsense, you're gonna be my wife, you should just be worried about raising kids in the future :)" or some shit. And it's barely addressed, because she just fucking dies.

2.) She was the only woman in the series to show any level of competence. She figured out more about how the death note works from some small context clues than L did in considerably less time. She was apparently so competent that the author decided to kill her off despite initially planning to make her a main character, fearing she would distract from the L and Light rivalry.

3.) the victim of “writer doesn’t understand women and also hates them” disease. Like, seriously, the author of Death Note could only imagine a female FBI agent as the fiancée of another, more senior FBI agent. The main character Light kills her fiancé Raye Penber (in honestly a really tightly written and cool episode) and so she tries to figure out who killed her husband. Unlike Raye who only figured out that Light was Kira as he was dying because Light basically told him, Naomi figures it out a lot sooner so oops guess she’s gotta die because she’s too good at her job.

[ghoultyrant]

Ocarina of Time: The War a Decade Ago

One aspect of Ocarina of Time was always pretty neat to me, but also something I didn't feel a need to bring up in fandom circles for decades because I thought it was so obvious there was no point to discussion because obviously everybody had already noticed it themselves, right?

But over the years evidence accumulated that it... wasn't actually Something Everyone Knew? I'd see videos or posts talking about 'secret' aspects of Ocarina of Time's writing that didn't mention it at all, people praising the writing's maturity and nuance that never addressed the topic, and of course Ocarina of Time fanfic conspicuously didn't mention it, even though fandom is often fond of filling in this kind of implication with a detailed story imagining what precisely might have happened.

So then I spent several years trying to figure out how to talk about it without sounding like I think everyone is dumb for not noticing this thing I found extremely obvious, gave up because a lot of crap was going on with my life anyway, and then finally recently arrived at giving the backstory I just wrote out for context.

So what's this Weird Secret Nobody Talks About?

Well, it's right there in the title of course: that Ocarina of Time tells us a war happened about a decade ago, and actually has a lot of clues as to the nature of that war if you pay attention, even though we only get a handful of bits directly addressing said war.

The most direct bit is why I spent decades assuming Everyone Knew: if you've beaten Ocarina of Time -if you got even around halfway through it- you have in fact definitely seen the most explicit reference to this war: when you clear the Forest Temple and the Great Deku Tree Sprout goes 'yeah, you're not a Kokiri', he explains that Link's mother fled soldiers chasing her into the Lost Woods and asked the Great Deku Tree to take her child as she was dying. (Presumably from injuries the soldiers inflicted on her in the pursuit)

(I've always wondered how other people 'fill in' for this that it apparently doesn't get other people assuming a war was happening)

This then connects to a lot of other bits to imply things: for example, Darunia mentions that the King of Hyrule is his Sworn Brother. He doesn't say why this is so, what the King of Hyrule did to earn this honor, but you might notice that Darunia declares Link to be a Sworn Brother upon killing the Dodongo King and so making Dodongo Cavern safe for Gorons to get food from: this suggests that Sworn Brother is earned for doing something greatly beneficial to a Goron, very possibly specifically in a martial capacity.

Which kind of suggests that the King of Hyrule and Darunia had battlefield experiences where the King of Hyrule saved Darunia's life or some such. And Link's backstory seems to indicate there was a war ten-ish years ago... hmm.

Also notable is that there's a number of allusions to the idea that the Gorons and Zora weren't always allies to Hylians, and in fact even to this day they're pretty reclusive: Zora's Domain is designed to only be accessible to Zora, Hyrule's royal family, and people who can prove a connection to the royal family. Death Mountain is locked off to the general public, with Link having to use Zelda's letter to get permission to go up it ie he needs royal authority to get through. (And Darunia hiding in his room is refusing to open the door until a royal messenger of Hyrule shows up) It seems like both peoples only recently got on good terms with Hylians, and are mostly trusting the royal family in specific.

Then there's the state of Hyrule Field itself. When Link is a child, the land is haunted by the restless dead: Stalchildren come out to attack relentlessly when the sun is down. Ocarina of Time (and indeed the Zelda series more broadly) pretty clearly ascribes to the 'the dead do not rest easy when they die having been wronged or having died brutally' model of the undead, with ghosts haunting graveyards, Adult Link's version of Hyrule Castle Town being a scorched wreck filled with zombies, the Shadow Temple being literally haunted and presented as being where all the royal family's metaphorical skeletons are stuffed into the metaphorical closet, etc, so this infinite legion of nighttime Stalchildren seems to imply a lot of people died horrifically in Hyrule Field not terribly long ago.

Conspicuously, 7 years later, the Stalchildren are gone. There's Big Poes and intermittently a smaller Poe will pop out of nowhere to attack Link, and Hyrule Castle Town is a zombie-infested wreck, but in spite of Gannondorf's reign being very explicitly very brutal the Stalchildren haven't stuck around. This is itself consistent with the restless dead model, where generally the dead do eventually rest easy without necessarily needing an exorcism or some such.

So there's an implication here that not too long ago -ten years ago, say- a cataclysmic war occurred that got a lot of people killed very brutally.

In turn, it seems like the current King of Hyrule probably was a big driver of the war ending in a peaceful manner: the Zora trust him, Darunia trusts him, and his key failing within Ocarina of Time is trying to make nice with another population that the Hylians have bad blood with (The Gerudo) and blowing off his daughter when she says the current Gerudo leader is a very bad man who shouldn't be trusted. It's easy to draw a throughline here, where Zelda's father tried to make nice with the Goron and Zora even though they were ancestral enemies, and it worked so well that of course he's repeating this tactic with the Gerudo.

The fact that the Shadow Temple shows us that the Hyrule royal family has a lot of skeletons in its closet also gives obvious possible reasons for Hyrule's neighbors mistrusting them. It's easy to imagine that Zelda's grandfather, and that man's father, and so on, were probably warmongers or otherwise not particularly pleasant rulers, with a history of waging war on their neighbors or otherwise being pretty awful to them, and the Zora and Gorons and Gerudo are wary of the possibility of this happening again.

The fact that Link's mother was probably on the run from Hylian soldiers (We don't get told their species, but if they weren't Hylians the usual thing would be to explicitly say they were Goron soldiers or whoever) is also suggestive of the nature of the war of ten years ago: it probably wasn't a war fought firmly on the lines of species. Probably Hylians were fighting among themselves, a civil war of some kind! Maybe Zelda's father couped his own father precisely over the man's aforementioned probable habits as a ruler, or maybe it was a 'grassroots' rebellion of peasants against the king's oppressive rule; I'm not aware of any particularly strong hints as to the likely details of this piece. But a civil war of some kind seems very likely.

As a kid, I found it fascinating how this game heavily implied a horrifically brutal war and a complex and un-'nice' history between all the current Good Buddy species, all without ever directly depicting it and doing so in a way where an adult watching their kid play would probably never pick up this info being communicated.

As an adult, I'm confused as to why I can't find evidence of other people picking up on these implications.

[vidavalor]

It is very much hot cocoa weather over here -- did you know that peppermint candy canes make excellent cocoa stirrers? (provided you remember to take the plastic cover off!)

Also, I was thinking a bit about the classic Ronnie Barker sitcom 'Open All Hours' recently, specifically the episode where Arkwright tries to shift an overstock of Jamaica Ginger Cake by spreading rumours that it's a potent aphrodisiac -- the Ineffables are very likely aware of that show (the outfit they sort out for Jimbriel seems to intentionally reference both miserly shopkeeper Arkwright and his beleaguered nephew/assistant/errand boy Granville), so do you think there's any Ineffable Etymology around Jamaica Ginger Cake that would've given these adorable word-nerds an extra layer of amusement?

They do indeed, Dear Philosopher! Can't go wrong with a peppermint hot chocolate. Here in the strange weather land that is Massachusetts, it's still either hot chocolate weather or lemonade weather, depending on the day. Mostly fall, though. I've been drinking a lot of green and lemon balm tea with honey to help with allergies and definitely need something a bit more seasonal for a boost soon. A peppermint hot chocolate might be just the ticket. 😊

I remember that sitcom & the idea that they're referencing it with the costumes. Gabriel and Aziraphale definitely do it with more style, though. That sitcom is also an interesting one to reference since Arkwright is always lusting after/flirting with that redheaded lady and whole plots exist about him sneaking into her room across the street at night. If memory serves me correctly, it also took about half the show for them to actually reveal what the deal was between the two of them and tell the audience that they'd actually been engaged for years but family conflicts were keeping them from just getting married already. 😉

I might be biased because it's my favorite British sitcom but I think Crowley & Aziraphale would be more likely to be big fans of Are You Being Served?. It's a bit of its time in parts when you watch it now but it also was very daring tv for the 70s and is very much in the same style of their dirty humor. Also, Fawlty Towers! I watched "The Kipper and The Corpse" & "Waldorf Salad" again to laugh when I was sick a few weeks ago. I assume that it is required by law to have seen this show where you live, correct? 😂 Crowley and Aziraphale would be wheezing laughing at those. I remember the ginger cake episode of Open All Hours! The bit where he convinces the gossipy guy that it's an illegal aphrodisiac and then all the men he tells start coming to the store in sunglasses to buy it like it's drugs. 😂

If we're talking about ginger cake, we might as well also talk about Aziraphale's euphemistically spicy recounting of his baking habit to Crowley in Lockdown...

Ginger and cake are actually both used in Crowley & Aziraphale speak separately already. Ginger is used by Aziraphale to describe Crowley, as it is part of the "jinnjer" wordplay in the Baraqiel entry in Demon's Guide. The travel sweets are also ginger candies (probably lemon-ginger, even more Crowley).

Obviously, ginger is a way to refer to redheads but it relates to Crowley in a food way as well. It is rather sweet, since ginger can be used as a spice and as a healing food. It is known to be stress-relieving and to help with stomach upsets and anxiety. It also brings warmth and heat and spice when added to food and drink.

To refer to Crowley as ginger is to refer to his ability to be both exciting and comforting-- to arouse and to calm, at once.

As a lot of people already know, cake, in everyday euphemistic speak, refers to a person's caboose or to sex in general. My favorite recent example is the song "Cake By the Ocean" because there are people who think it only refers to getting married and are using it at weddings without realizing that it's also euphemistic for having sex on the beach. Cake, in Crowley and Aziraphale's speak in Good Omens, though, has an additional meaning that Aziraphale was using in Lockdown.

Everything that Aziraphale told Crowley he baked with recipes from the "cookbook sextion section" of the bookshop that is also metaphorically Aziraphale is euphemistic for the kind of fantasy he was having to, ah... arrive at his planned destination by, ah... enjoying his own company. We actually listen in real time as Aziraphale codes cake as masturbation because, while it seemed to have the usual meanings mentioned above beforehand, Crowley actually says "ah, I follow, I follow" in Lockdown when he sees where Aziraphale is going with this whole cake thing.

So, what's Aziraphale been practicing for the showstopper on The Great British Bake Off during Lockdown? 😂

Aziraphale: "I got peckish. I've now made bundt cake, sponge cake, *Angel's* Food Cake, four different kinds of sourdough loaf, Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte..."

Peckish-- Aziraphale for horny, since 1793.

Bundt cake-- Bundt cake is pretty much the only cake in existence that is named not for what kind of cake it is but for the pan used to bake the cake. You can make a zillion different kinds of cake in a Bundt cake pan but they're all, technically, Bundt cakes. It's cake that is named for the tool used to bake the cake.

Aziraphale never said what kind of cake he baked in aforementioned Bundt cake pan. It could have been, for instance, a thematically-appropriate fantas-- I mean, cake! involving a Bundt cake pan, for instance, but we don't quite know for sure because Aziraphale was actually just most eager to tell Crowley that he'd been putting the, er, kitchen equipment to good use.

A Bundt cake, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, is an alone time session enjoyed with the assistance of a rubber duck (a dildo; a vibrator).

I'm sure that Aziraphale is also amused that the Bundt cake pan is an American invention and comes from a variation of the German word bund, which means an association. The chipper tone of voice suggesting that the angel couldn't wait to make this joke. 😂

Sponge cake-- Cake baked involving a bath or shower that may or may not have also been had in the bath or shower. Apparently, an Aziraphale favorite location for ducking, given that Crowley's revenge for The Seeds of Destruction on the way to Tadfield in S1 was apparently to suggest they take a shower together when they got home:

Which also adds another funny element to...

*Angel's* Food Cake-- Aziraphale's heavy verbal italics on the first word there is emphasizing that he knows damn well that this is not actually the name of the dessert. It's called Angel Food Cake. Its counterpart does have a possessive-- Devil's Food Cake. You will notice that no matter how much Aziraphale loves chocolate, he does not bake a Devil's Food Cake-- literally or euphemistically. That would be pretty offensive and Satan is not exactly something that's going to get Aziraphale there. He's intentionally referencing Devil's Food Cake, though, in purposefully renaming Angel Food Cake as Angel's Food Cake to Crowley. This is a play-on-words relating to the etymology of both cakes names.

Devil's Food Cake is called that because of the idea that it was so rich and delicious that it had to be the sinful food of The Devil. Angel Food Cake is called that because it is a light and fluffy and therefore apparently angel-like sponge cake. (It's here where we should mention that the kind of cake that Aziraphale uses to describe Crowley that we'll get to down below is also a sponge cake. 😊) Devil's Food Cake has the possessive because the food was seen as sinful and, so, *of* Satan-- belonging to him. Angel Food Cake does not have the possessive because the cake is not seen as sinful and the connection to angels is more figurative description rather than a declaration of belonging.

Aziraphale refers to one of the "cakes" he "baked" to Crowley as "Angel's Food Cake"-- tongue-in-cheekily (and also sweetly) giving the connotation of the cake as being angelic and not satanic. There's a double way of reading "Angel's Food" that's also clever-- the apostrophe s would indicate that the cake in question here would be of Aziraphale's own, since he's the one of the two of them who is the angel and "angel" is also what Crowley calls him but the angel's food would be from an external source-- a ginger one who is not ever willingly Devil's Food Cake but is consensually Angel's Food Cake anytime Aziraphale is feeling peckish.

Four, different kinds of sourdough loaf-- Sourdough loaf is a type of bread. Bread, as we've seen elsewhere, is a partner in partnered sex (Mrs. Sandwich partners up slices of bread, etc..); it's also Cockney Rhyming Slang for head (as in, the human head), which is euphemistic for oral sex. It's bread because of rising dough via yeast being metaphorical for arousal. Each type of bread mentioned in the story (black bread; brioche, etc..) could then be used euphemistically to mean something different. Sourdough is a sweet choice of bread for Aziraphale to use euphemistically because of the word it contains:

Four, different kinds of sourdough loaf = four, different fantasies about the two of them in bed.

Sourdough is also bread that is made with a process of fermentation, like alcohol. A linguistic overlap of words related to both baking and alcohol-- proof/proofing/proving-- is innuendo in 1941's alley scene, when Aziraphale remarks that the theatre is "so improving", which is also "I'm proving", referring to getting turned on.

Crowley replies with "Talking of improving", which is not the correct way to phrase that, as the well-spoken Crowley well knows. The proper way would be to say: "Speaking of improving" but the word speak contains the word peak, which is not what Crowley was going for there in that moment, but is elsewhere ("You speak every language of the world. We both do." in the present in S2 referring to getting off on words).

Crowley uses the word talking instead because talk/talking more directly refers to wording in their cant (Crowley in 1.01 in the phonebooth: "Aziraphale, it's me. We need to talk."; in 2.06, "they're toxic", pronounced as "they're TALK-ic", to try to get Aziraphale to hear his use of coded speech. More amusingly, casually, about him and Aziraphale to an unaware Maggie and Nina: "We talk all the time.")

Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte-- An elegant and sexy chocolate sponge cake covered in chocolate ganache and made with layers of-- and topped with-- cherries and whipped cream. Crowley, in cake form lol. It is the same kind of cake as Aziraphale used to refer to himself earlier.

A Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte is basically a Black Forest Gateau but German law states that for you to refer to it as a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, it must contain kirschwasser, a distilled brandy made from fermented cherries. There are places that make this same type of cake but substitute other types of liquor or omit alcohol entirely-- those cakes are Black Forest Gateaus by default, though. Only when it has that specific cherry brandy is the cake what Aziraphale calls it-- a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte.

In terms of how Aziraphale's "cakes baked" is tracking here, this dessert would involve the Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, ah... feeling around for his car keys, shall we say?

Adding to that is that Aziraphale said that he had to "miracle in the cherries." He's saying so to ask Crowley to use magic to come over and fuck him before Aziraphale is eventually found dead beneath a sea of dildos and scones. While he's not sure about the risk of Crowley hunkering down during the Lockdown, he misses him desperately and is absolutely calling Crowley with eleven different fantasies-- we aren't even bringing up that whole hot guys breaking into the bookshop one lol-- and a general air of get over here and do me, Red about him.

"The cherries" is an adorably cheeky description for Crowley. Red fruit for the redheaded Serpent of Eden, yeah, and those ones, in particular, because cherries have that euphemistic association with sexual firsts, in line with the suggestion in Rome and other scenes that Crowley had trouble having an orgasm with a partner before Aziraphale. Cherries, plural, for the midwife/cobbler.

Furthering the Rome suggestion is that Crowley, when he brings up hunkering down at the bookshop, says that he can bring over a case of "something... drinkable." He places an emphasis on the 'drinkable'. This is what Crowley was saying to the bartender when Aziraphale heard him in Rome and appears to be shorthand for Rome between Crowley and Aziraphale in Lockdown.

Offering to bring something drinkable could be to offer a repeat of Rome, kind of in the same way that Aziraphale used Paris, 1793 as shorthand for what he wanted for lunch in the 2008 of 1.01.

When Crowley then says, while clearly understanding for what Aziraphale has been using cake as euphemistic, that he wants to "slither over" and watch Aziraphale "eat cake", he's saying he wants to watch him masturbate, with the added amusement of the use of 'slither' in there drawing a comparison between the snake ability to hypnotize with their eyes/Aziraphale's thing for Crowley's vavoomy eyes and Crowley's own enjoyment of visual stimuli.

"Fascinating little restaurants where they know you" in 1.01 is the same kind of joke, as the the root of the word fascination is the hypnotic gaze of a snake.

Ginger cake, in Crowley and Aziraphale speak, would then probably be the same thing as a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, in that, to them, ginger refers to Crowley and cake refers to masturbation. As it was in that Open All Hours episode you mentioned, "Jamaican" is still code in basically every kind of speak there is for marijuana. I know that Jamaican Ginger Cake is British and is called such because it is meant to be made with molasses and/or sugar-- not pot-- from Jamaica but, if we're talking about euphemisms in general, then Jamaica usually is referring to weed. I don't think Crowley and Aziraphale would use it any differently.

There could be something in there with jam and bread but it feels more like it'd be coincidental humor, like the bund/association stuff in Bundt cake above. If the phrase is "Jamaican Ginger Cake" and we go with what Aziraphale made up above, as well as Crowley's "having a nap" Lockdown euphemism for what you Brits call "having a wank", then "Jamaican Ginger Cake", in Ineffable Husbands Speak, would be Crowley having a weed-augmented, ah... nap.

The way that poor demon could use both a slice of Jamaican Ginger Cake and an actual nap about now... 😂

[blind-alchemists]

sorry, Zagreus, I've had your sister for five hours and I already like her more than you.

anyway! I did treat myself and bought the game early and. it's just very good!

in somewhat chronological order, my thoughts after yesterday's session

the music! the music is even more amazing than in the first game and if I'm done, I need to listen to the whole OST on loop

the art!! also even better than in the first game!!

Melinoë is a great protagonist

it's incredibly funny the first god we encounter is Apollo, because Apollo is the guy people modded into the first game years ago

... boy, I wonder what the speedrunning meta will look like for this game (I have very obscure knowledge about Hades I speedrunning meta)

I love the little backgrounds that pop out with the art

oh, right, I jumped into the Hades I EA late, so I never saw the place holder graphics in-game before

the environments!! beautiful.

I shouldn't have played the first game last week. It's fucking with me. where's my second dash??? Why do we start with 30 HP??? where are my death defiances??? weapon mechanics???

of course there's a fishing mechanic again.

I like Hecate's design.

saluting??? what's the lore behind that?

OH. this tone of the story isn't ... quite what I expected. A lot more serious. a lot more severe.

Melinoë doesn't remember her family??? Hello??? what the fuck???

and she keeps talking about her task with such a dutiful determination ... no, I'm not crying. But. That's such an interesting conflict.

NEMESIS!! She's holding her sword aspect!! her design!! her resentment!! her vengeance!! her rivalry with Mel. how Mel calls her Nem. please. tell me she's a romance option. PLEASE.

oh, hi odysseus.

hey, there's hypnos! ... why's he sleeping??? (funny thing is, I got the Charon dialogue that implies he's more useful this way lol)

I cannot. Take. Skelly serious. It's worse because Mel does.

I like Moros' design. The long hair going over the horns? Yeah, that's good.

Mel gets an AXE??? a heavy, double-bladed axe??? (I love women wielding heavy weapons, and as long as the rail doesn't make a return, I'm good with anything after enough time)

I like the new art sprites for reoccurring characters!

ahhh, the good old "we don't trust Olympus so we're not telling them everything" line. understandable, but I figure that's going to blow up sooner or later.

I love Mel's bond with Artemis and Selene and the implication that both helped raise her.

... and I like the predominantly female cast so far

Nemesis can show up in Erebus???

BABY MELINOË omg

why does every chthonic goddess / titaness sound like they have a thing for Persephone. Nyx already had a few lines like that in the first game. Why does Hecate also have these kinds of lines.

the Hecate fight frustrates me to no end, because I'm very used to more dashes, more health, and more death defiances, and very different weapons :( (I have bet her twice in total so far)

unrelated, but I didn't know I needed a sheep in the Hades art style but it's so damn cute and I want a large art print of it

Archane!! I love how her silks change Mel's avatar

Oceanus is beautiful

... except for the traps. Really not digging the traps. or the maps.

CHAOS??? why are you holding your old form's head??? and why is there an embryo coming out of it??? why do you have wings??? why do you wear a suit??? the new design unfortunately checks all the boxes but upon reflection that is because it fits into that very niche character design trope I've seen in manwha recently and I couldn't put a name on it if I tried

on that note, I also adore Aphrodite's new design!!

not quite sure what I think of the gathering / farming mechanic yet

I do like the incantations, magic, hexes, and arcana though!

HERMES! I also adore his design.

wait, what? Mel's going to Olympus? You're telling me one part of the game is descending into the House of Hades and the other is climbing to Mount Olympus?? (that's my speculation, at least.)

god, I hope the cast of the first game is alright/alive. :(

I hope we also get to see Athena, Ares, and Dionysus at some point :(

on that note, I can't wait for Mel to meet her brother and realize he's the opposite of her lol. I love siblings and mirrors.