#Originally had no intention of posting this one but you can have it

[veganthranduil]

(This is a slightly re-worked version of my 2021 Terror Camp talk on the subject. You can request access to past recordings via the TC email.)

In a show full of unapologetic imperialists, Harry Goodsir, beautiful cinnamon roll (too good for this world, too pure), is often exempted from the scrutiny that other characters are subjected to, based on his ‘innocent’ nature and his good intentions. I argue that precisely these characteristics that are most formative for his imperialism, but that his imperialism is not legible to us because it is the same form of imperialism we* still practise today. As the character who seems most modern to us because he is, in many ways, quite liberal, he serves as a prime audience surrogate to excuse, and to question our excuses of this imperialism.

We may think of empire as an unapologetic entity, too large to deny its own existence. The fact of its violence is all-encompassing. In the eyes of those who suffer from under it, the empire cannot be ignored—but there are also those who depend on its invisibility for the functioning of their world. This is a story about how the empire hides itself from itself, through the story it tells about itself.

The origins of empires fall together with the historical emergence of liberalism in the 18th century. Mehta (1999, p. 194) writes on this co-emergence:

“It is tempting to see the triumph of liberalism and the concurrent extension of the empire as either discontinuous facts that do not relate to each other or as plainly contradicting each other, and therefore casting doubt on the authenticity of the former. The thesis of discontinuity misunderstands the role of liberalism generally, and especially in this period. From its very inception in the seventeenth century, liberalism had been much more than a mere political doctrine with a local reach. By the early nineteenth century and with added vigor through the course of it, it was a robust mindset with a confidence in its global vision. This liberalism did not mysteriously get transformed into some demonic urge to rule the world the instant the British ventured beyond their shores. [...] liberalism and empire were tightly braided threads such that their separation would have resulted in the fraying of a well-woven mental and political tapestry.”

At the same time, liberalism, in its elaborations as a theory, is at odds with many aspects of empire. Liberalism, on the one hand, relies on the resources and globalisation provided through colonisation. On the other hand, the liberal tradition purports that its values—individual self-determination, basic rights, democracy, or tolerance—hold the world over. These liberal values extend rights that the empire violates and denies. This is not to say that liberalism has not also served as the argument in struggles of liberation and for rights. The language of liberalism can be used to challenge liberalism and demand inclusion, just as the language of liberalism can be used to dismantle it. Suffragists successfully did the former. The globally resurgent radical right is succeeding in a strategy of normalisation that is achieving the latter. What I am saying is that within liberalism, which is caught between needing the empire for its political survival and being at odds with the fact of empire in its moral system, there is a particular rhetorical trick that hides the empire from liberal eyes. Even today, we western liberal subjects deflect when it comes to the existence of this connection.

I use Jeanne Morefield’s concept of “imperial deflections” (Morefield, 2014). She defines an imperial deflection as “drawing critical attention away from the liberal empire’s illiberalism by insisting upon its fundamental character.” It’s a bit like a magic trick: showing you the card by acknowledging the empire’s illiberal acts, and then drawing the attention away from it. Morefield examines British liberal thinkers around WWI and US liberal thinkers post 9/11 to show how the liberal justifications of empire are surprisingly similar in both instances. In both pre-WWI Britain and post 9/11 America, liberals insist it is impossible for them to act illiberally—because they have always been liberal, because they are at heart liberal, or because the long arc of history bends towards a liberal society in both cases. It is these deflections we can see Goodsir employ in the show, at different times, and with different degrees of success.

Goodsir as an Audience Surrogate

At numerous junctures in the show, we are encouraged to view the world we are presented with through Goodsir’s eyes. He, like the viewer, has never been to the Arctic, and approaches it with a sense of wonder. The audience is encouraged to empathise with him through small moments that endear him to us (such as when he insists that he, too, can haul the boat-sledge in 1x02 and promptly falls over, inexperienced at hauling as he is.) In episode 1x02 Goodsir as a viewpoint character also becomes explicit when we hear his testimony after what happened to Lieutenant Gore. Although all members of the sledge party are interviewed offscreen, it is his point of view that we hear and believe, and that helps us makes sense of what we just saw happen. The fact that the captains interviewing him are sceptical of his account just solidifies putting the audience in his corner.

What most solidifies Goodsir as an audience surrogate, however, is his ideology and therefore his position in the show as a “modern” character. My argument is that it’s precisely Goodsir’s liberalism that allows us to identify with him.

Goodsir as a Liberal Subject

Goodsir’s role as a scientist (an anatomist first, and then also a doctor) position him closest to Post-Enlightenment liberal ideas about scientific progress, rationality, and also a new form of masculinity. Goodsir is a decidedly “modern” character, especially when contrasted with other characters: Goodsir is less set in his ways than most of them. While describing the bear prints, for example, the captains are dismissive of his description while Goodsir is sceptical but not dismissive of the idea that the bear could have tracked them to the ship. (He is, of course, very set in other ways, for example in his total embrace of class hierarchies.) He is also positioned in contrast to Stanley’s overt racism when Stanley refuses to perform surgery on Silna’s father.**

Goodsir’s approach to life is informed by his belief in science. We are given little hints throughout the show that approaching things from a detached, scientific angle gives him comfort. When David Young dies, Goodsir is distressed, but the first thing he does is check Young’s pulse. Similarly, he can perform Young’s autopsy only after covering his face, reducing him from “person” to “body.” His account of Gore’s killing, likewise, is focussed on the observable details and reads more like a scientific report than a report from a man who witnessed a traumatic event.

This rationality and distance from emotion is also indicative of an alternative masculinity. The show contrasts Goodsir’s liberal masculinity with the more familiar “male warrior” masculinity of the sailors that surround him. In episode 1x03, Goodsir’s demand of an escort back to the ships is played for a laugh, though immediately undercut when the Tuunbaq does attack the hunting blind, leaving him the character with the more realistic risk assessment. Goodsir embodies an alternative hegemonic masculinity: a liberal masculinity that expresses itself not in outbursts of aggression but in a distancing from emotion. When Goodsir seeks to test his lead poisoning theory, for example, he entices Jacko with gentle words to eat from the food he suspects to be poisonous. He is aware that—should his theory be correct—he is killing the monkey. We are reminded of his gentle words to David Young and realise, perhaps, that his gentleness is not backed up with a deep concern for the person/animal he speaks to. In both cases, the knowledge that can be extracted from dead bodies supersedes sentimentality. Neither masculinity, one might extrapolate from that, offers a way out of the predicament these men find themselves in. Neither can serve as the basis of a new kind of living with each other.

Goodsir’s Liberal Deflections of Empire

Goodsir’s character is an interesting case of nominative determinism. There obviously was a historical Harry Goodsir, but this is not the man we are looking at. We are looking at the fictional “good sir” who was, at first glance, written as the only good man among imperialists. At second glance, however, his name itself becomes an imperial deflection. While other characters make their investment in empire clear from the beginning, Goodsir’s is perhaps harder to spot. Sir John has already failed at one imperial endeavour and is adamant to prove himself. Fitzjames’s stories illustrate that he has no qualms with the mission of empire. But at various points in the show, Goodsir is seen to express discomfort with the logic of action that imperialism dictates. He wants to save Silna’s father (even though he ends up making things worse for him and the crew in the long run.) He expresses discomfort at the treatment of the body of Silna’s father, while he himself tries to be respectful of Inuit customs (though, once again, making things worse by burying his charms with him.) When Francis wants to ask Silna how to kill the Tuunbaq, Goodsir does not translate the question, perhaps out of a sense that “these matters are quite private in her culture.” It is because of this discomfort that Goodsir becomes the prime apologist of empire. The other characters do not feel like they have anything to be sorry for, and therefore do not need to invent justifications. Goodsir employs these justifications at various moments in the show, but two instances stand out for their similarity in phrasing and context, and the differing extent to which Goodsir believes them.

The first instance of an imperial deflection is when Goodsir brings supper to Silna. She has just been kidnapped by Hickey, Hartnell and Manson. When Goodsir introduces himself to Silna, he has a first moment of realization of the meaning and scope of empire and his place in it. He explains their purpose (“For our economy. For trade.”) and seems to have a moment of self-awareness that those are neither good reasons for dying nor for killing. A moment later he points at himself, hoping to introduce himself. “Goodsir,” he says, which is both his name and also an insistence that while the policies that brought him here may be flawed, the men sent to die were good men, not deserving of the scorn we direct at them for the imperial policy they carry out. “This is not how Englishmen act,” he says, despite evidence to the contrary that Englishmen have, in fact, just acted this way. This is the first instance of a textbook liberal deflection: insisting on the character over the actions of empire. What does it matter for Silna that he means well? The helplessness is emphasised by the abrupt ending of the episode after Goodsir’s desperate introduction.

The second time Goodsir insists on the character of Empire over its actions is in quite a different context. A hunting party has just massacred an Inuit family, people that Silna knew, and now Silna is being exiled from Terror Camp. Goodsir knows that it’s safer for her to go, but selfishly wants her to stay. He feels for her, and perhaps feels he must offer some sort of apology for the behaviour of his co-nationals. Then he tells her: “I wish you could come to England and see for yourself. It’s not like we are here. People there are good.” Once again, he insists on the fundamental character—the “English” character—of the empire that exculpates them from the crimes they commit abroad. But even in the speaking, he appears to realise the futility of this deflection. This second deflection is followed by a word spoken in Inuktitut for which no translation is provided.*** Silna reacts with a small smile and a nod of her head. The choice not to subtitle or translate Goodsir’s last word to Silna can be read in various ways, but it remains first and foremost a place to which we—the liberal audience at home—cannot follow Goodsir, who has been our surrogate up to this point, implying perhaps that he has taken a step that we have yet to take in confronting our own imperialism.

Both of Goodsir’s deflections follow violence done to Silna (or threatened against her.) In the first instance, it’s her kidnapping by Hickey and his associates for which Goodsir first apologises, then makes excuses; in the second instance it’s the violence that will be done to her should she return to Terror Camp, as well as the violence done to other Inuit. In both cases, it’s Goodsir’s job to draw attention away from the liberal empire’s illiberal actions by insisting on its liberal character. The extent to which he succeeds—or fails—opens up these liberal deflections of empire for us. Goodsir is not an uncritical liberal audience surrogate. I watched The Terror for the first time during the March 2020 lockdown, and hearing “For our economy. For trade.” hit hard for me as a person living under a capitalist system where economic necessity is continuously valued over human life. Goodsir realises, in justifying, the hollowness of some of his justifications, even as he fervently holds on to others.

Goodsir stays alive long enough to witness all the ways that Englishmen may act, and is made to participate in them. His disillusionment with his co-nationals at the end is nearly complete. But his commitment to liberalism, I would argue, remains.

In the end, Goodsir returns to science. His final vision is that of the beauty that no doubt inspired his career, the wonder that he told Crozier he still feels. But it’s also a vision that remains within the ordered boundaries of the liberal empire: the specimens are foreground on a white background, they are separated from nature, standing contextless and only for themselves. Goodsir’s final vision is that of the liberal imperial project, realised.

* When I write “we,” I am, of course, aware that not everyone reading this falls under the umbrella of Western liberal subjects that this “we” assumes. Like Goodsir as an audience surrogate, this “we” hopes to function as a mirror of reflection for our own deflections of empire. I do not understand myself as a “liberal,” certainly not in the sense that most US-Americans use the term. I see liberalism as the bedrock of how we do politics in the 21st century. In that sense, we are all “liberals.” From the position of someone who is a “liberal,” as a subject of a liberal democracy, I do not exempt myself from the category of people that has, at various points in their lives, made excuses for empire, knowingly or unknowingly. These rhetorical strategies, so ingrained in how we talk about who we are, make it all-too-easy to fall into the trap of convincing ourselves that there is something redeemable at the heart of our empires. We must make these strategies explicit to recognise their falsity.

** Stanley’s refusal did not come out of an assessment of the futility of the procedure, which might have spared Silna’s father further suffering. In that sense, both Goodsir (in his belief that his knowledge can save the man) and Stanley (in his racist refusal of medical aid) fail Silna and her father, because neither of them centre the well-being of the man.

*** I am aware that you can find this translation in many metas written about it. Do not come into my comments to tell me what it means. I looked it up.

Bibliography

Bell, D., 2014. What is Liberalism. Political Theory 42, 682–715.

Hooper, C., 2001. Masculinities in International Relations, in: Manly States: Masculinities, International Relations, and Gender Politics. Columbia University Press, New York, pp. 79–116.

Mehta, U.S., 1999. Liberalism and Empire. A Study in Nineteenth-Century British Liberal Thought. University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London.

Morefield, J., 2014. Empires Without Imperialism: Anglo-American Decline and the Politics of Deflection. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

[seangardnerxiv]

Shadow and Maria's Complex Relationship

FOR DISCLOSURE: this thread is going to be discussing the complexities of Shadow and Maria’s relationship based on many different factors. Though I will be including the romantic interpretation (NOT a sexual one – I do not support nor condone sexualizing these two, nor any of the characters in Sonic, as they are almost all minors) as a potential, I will not be arguing to assign a definite label to their relationship – I will, in fact, be doing exactly the opposite (I am also not interested in engaging in shipping discourse over Sonic the Hedgehog characters). I would simply like to disclose that that will be discussed in case the topic upsets you and you would prefer to stop reading now. I accept this post may not be received well by some.

SPOILERS FOR SONIC X SHADOW GENERATIONS

So I've had to break out my Tumblr for this - my usual haunt is Twitter/Bluesky, but those don't really allow for longform posts. This is also a major departure from my usual FFXIV posting, so apologies to anyone who follows me for that.

Sonic x Shadow Generations recently dropped, alongside the short animations “Dark Beginnings” as well as the (non-canonical) manga “The Jet Black Hedgehog: Shadow the Hedgehog.” With it, discourse surrounding Shadow and Maria’s relationship has kicked up again, largely in two parties – that Shadow and Maria held a sibling relationship, or that Shadow and Maria held romantic feelings for one another (some people have also argued that Shadow is her uncle, or Maria is his mother, but I won’t be discussing those views). There are arguments for both drawn from a variety of sources – I will do my best to present both (if there are others I've missed, please feel free to comment and I will add them).

For siblings:

This Twitter post of artwork for Dark Beginnings has the following alt text: “Shadow and Maria reach out for one another in an infinite abyss (as long-lost siblings would) with the Moon and the Space Colony ARK in the background."

The manual for Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) describes Maria as “like a sister to Shadow.” I have also seen another screenshot of a different manual that states that Shadow as "like a brother to Maria," but I've been unable to find which manual it is.

Gerald refers to Shadow as “son” during the climax of SxSG.

For romantic:

Maria saying “I love you” in the Japanese version of SxSG uses the kanji “ai shiteru,” whilst her “I love you” in the Japanese version of the manga uses “daisuki.” Whilst it can be used for familial relations, it is apparently very uncommon for both of these to be used outside of romantic intent.

Shiro Maekawa – the original creator of Shadow and Maria – based them (or at least parts of them) off of a romance manga known as “Please Save My Earth” (with Maria sharing the Japanese voice actress for the female lead from the anime), and has frequently supported them together, often retweeting romantic art and posts of Shadow and Maria.

In a recent interview from Sega, Maria touching Shadow’s face in Dark Beginnings was equated to Beauty and the Beast.

For Tanabata – a Japanese festival celebrating the meeting of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi, and the separation of them as lovers – Sonic Channel posted artwork of Shadow and Maria reading the story beneath the stars. Sonic Channel has also published fanart for Valentine’s Day relating to Shadow and Maria (although they publish a lot of fanart).

Before I go any further, when the topic of Shadow and Maria in a romantic lens comes up, many of the same criticisms arise that I do not believe are fairly levied – namely accusations regarding their age, species, and familial ties. I would like to address – and debunk – these three before we go any further. Keep in mind while you read these – this is not meant to convince you that their relationship was one thing over another, but only to provide validity to a subjective point of view I feel is unfairly stigmatized.

“It’s incest because Shadow is Maria’s brother/uncle(?).”

While there were notions of family stated by both Maria and Gerald, Shadow was grown in a tube with alien DNA and has zero blood relation to the Robotnik family. Whilst there are abstract labels of “like a sister” or “sibling coding” that are only ever applied in a meta sense, neither of them define their relationship in such a way within the lens of the universe. And it is not as if the topic never arises - in Shadow Generations, Maria herself likens young Abraham Tower as akin to her little brother, but she makes no such distinction with Shadow.

“Sibling coding” is ultimately a nothing statement, and unless a proper adoption is made, it does not magically turn romantic feelings towards the two involved into incest. Frames of reference are often informed by what young people are familiar with, and they sometimes lack the proper tools to acknowledge that their feelings towards each other are more complex than they first believe - to say that this is something that potentially occurred with Shadow and Maria is not outlandish, and not a concept unique to Sonic as a series.

Similar examples to this include Clive and Jill from Final Fantasy XVI (Jill is accepted into the Rosfield household and raised alongside Clive and his brother, only to later enter a romantic relationship with him as an adult), Nero and Kyrie from Devil May Cry (Nero is fostered by Kyrie's family and considers Kyrie a sister initially, only for her to become his love interest as adults) and Sidon and Yona from The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (Sidon grows up perceiving Yona as a sister, only to realize his feelings for her are more complex later on). None of these are incestuous relationships, nor is Shadow and Maria’s were it to be romantic.

“It’s bestiality because Shadow is an animal.”

Bestiality is applicable to regular animals that do not hold human sentience of thought, as they are unable to consent to a relationship, like a dog or cat. Shadow is not this, nor are any of the anthropomorphic characters within the Sonic games - were you to change the anthropomorphic animals in Sonic into humans, basically nothing about the series' content would change. All of them are completely sound-minded beings that are essentially just people who look different. Shadow is not Maria’s pet, he is her fully sentient friend that holds the same degree of thought as she does – given that Shadow’s entire arc is about finding his purpose in life, degrading him to simply a lab animal rather than acknowledging he is a person defeats that entire arc (something the manga also touches upon).

A lot of people also cite Sonic and Elise from Sonic ‘06 (namely the scene where Elise kisses the deceased Sonic) as a reason why Shadow and Maria should not be done - while I think it’s valid if you didn’t like watching a human girl kissing Sonic the Hedgehog, I maintain that a good chunk of that disdain stemmed from two major reasons:

Elise was very poorly characterized in her game. She existed to constantly get kidnapped and be saved by Sonic, and so both the relationship and the kiss came off more like pandering than something earned.

Sonic '06 had a bizarrely realistic artstyle for the human characters, whilst all of the animal characters retained their cartoonish appearances. This clash of artstyles looked its worst when Elise kissed Sonic at the game's climax.

Maria, however, does not fall into these pitfalls. She does not exist to be purely a love interest for Shadow - she’s certainly not someone for him to save, as the entire inciting event of Shadow's character is his inability to save her when she saves him.

For a frame of reference, Shadow is more akin to an alien from Star Wars – a setting where humans also exist. It is not bestiality for a Human to hold a relationship with a Twi’lek, as both races are fully anthropomorphic and sentient. On a similar note, Beauty and the Beast is not considered bestiality either, even though the Beast bears obvious animalistic traits. Some people have also entertained the notion of Rouge and Topaz from Sonic X, even though the latter is human. This is all the same principle, and none of it is bestiality.

“It’s creepy because Maria is young.”

Shadow – while said to be ageless – is not an adult, and to imply that he is one is a fundamental misunderstanding of Shadow’s character – whilst there are many instances where he demonstrates maturity on some levels, he has shown much immaturity since his inception in Sonic Adventure 2 (his desire to destroy the world out of revenge for Maria), and his most recent storyline in Generations involves his naïve desire to change Maria and Gerald’s fates (or rather, an initial indifference to what it will bring). Not only that, but his time on the ARK was mired in confusion over the point of his existence – Maria was the one that helped him field through his confusion, and was arguably the more mature one between the two of them. We can safely say that Shadow is not an adult character, nor is he ever presented as one in the lens of the game.

As the closest thing Sonic likely has to an equal in both body and mind (Sonic holds his own immaturities similar to Shadow), he can likely be placed mentally close to his age of fifteen. This is reinforced by the leaked transcript of Sonic ‘06 that refers to Shadow as 15 (the red squared text in this image).

Maria has no canon age established in game material, but Sonic X lists her as 12. 15 and 12 is the same age gap as Sonic and Amy respectively.

In addition to that, many people have claimed that Shadow is over 50 years old, but this is only true of his chronological existence, not the time he has been conscious and aging. He spent 50 years stuck in cryosleep, and awoke exactly how he was when he was placed in there.

A similar example would be Aang and Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender - Aang was frozen at the age of 12, and awoke 100 years later. Nobody, however, tried to claim that he was 112 years too old to kiss the 14 year old Katara, as Aang was physically and mentally still a 12 year old upon awakening - most people who watched the show were also actively rooting for these two characters to kiss, which they did at the show's finale. It's the same principle regarding Shadow - he is 50 chronologically, not 50 in mind or body.

If we’d like to really get into it, I would point out that nearly every character in the lens of Sonic is in and around Maria’s age range (according to the Sonic Channel). As stated previously, Sonic is 15. Amy is 12, Knuckles is 16, Rouge is 18, Blaze and Silver are 14, etc. Nobody bats an eye at notions of romance between any of these people (not that I’m saying they should inherently).

Romantic intent between minors is not inherently viewed as a bad thing - see the examples of Aang and Katara or Clive and Jill above, or for an in house example, consider the canonical (to Sonic X at least) relationship between the 8 year old Tails and Cosmo - yet for some reason when it comes to Shadow and Maria, a relationship is stigmatized.

To reiterate in the wake of the last point, my discussions of romantic intent ARE NOT SEXUAL IN NATURE. As I acknowledge these are minors, any notions of that are completely off the table, and I do not agree with anyone who would imply their relationship was a sexual one. I want to make that unmistakably clear.

My major takeaway from observing both the Sonic fanbase and those on Sonic Team seems to be that in western circles, Shadow and Maria as siblings is the popular perception, whilst in eastern circles, they are more commonly perceived romantically. But ultimately, Shadow and Maria’s relationship seems to have many contradictory signals that makes it hard to pinpoint a concrete definition, especially in the most recent releases – and I believe that this is fully intentional.

Shiro Maekawa has stated in DMs has stated this regarding their relationship when asked if he saw them as siblings or love interests (translated from Japanese):

“I think they have a special bond that is unique to them that doesn’t fall into either of those categories. Just my personal opinion.”

From the way that the two are written post-Sonic Adventure 2, this appears to be a sentiment that is fully carried forward – their relationship is more nuanced than a canonical label would make it. Maria was the only person who made Shadow feel loved, and Maria unquestionably loved him back. What kind of love that was is up to the viewer, especially given that Maria died when they were both young, before they even had a chance to expand upon their relationship, if that was ever on the table – not that they needed to, given that their bond seems to have transcended both labels. Maria was the only one who acknowledged Shadow as more than an experiment or a weapon, and Shadow was her rock in an environment where she was isolated away from her family and home. Maria was Shadow's person, and still remains that in death.

To disclose for me personally (in case it was not obvious), I have always interpreted their relationship as romantic - or at least having romantic implications - ever since playing Sonic Adventure 2 Battle and Shadow the Hedgehog when I was a kid. I have both a fiancé and a sibling, and the way they treat each other is far more evocative of how I treat the former than the latter (especially in Dark Beginnings – I do not imagine my sibling through a shoujo filter while I wistfully think about cuddling them in a field of flowers). I do not take the awkwardly placed alt text verbiage from the Sonic Twitter account, used to fake-argue with the Wendy’s Twitter account, as gospel for anything, and I think that treating it as a damning disproval is silly. Had she lived, I believed the complex feelings they held would have been identified as romantic down the line. The relationship always just read as too intimately charged for me to perceive as siblings (it still does especially in the wake of seeing how she touches and speaks to him), even before I had a serious relationship. I think that arguing the nitty gritty over Twitter alt text and translations is silly, as all it took for me to takeaway that the relationship was still romantic was to play the game, watch the animations, and read the manga for Shadow Generations - but that's just me.

That said, I will concur that if you are weirded out by romantic notions between the two of them, that is completely understandable, and I would never argue that you should not feel what you feel for yourself. The sibling viewpoint is also wholly valid an interpretation, with or without word from a meta source. Though she had her grandfather and later Abe, she was largely alone on the ARK away from a family that she clearly loved and missed, and it’s not unusual to presume that Shadow filled in the role of a brother for her. I will also acknowledge that many things I have not mentioned - such as Shadow blushing at Maria calling him cool, or her saying "I love you" in general - are not inherently indicative of romantic intent, and can be read as fully platonic interpretations, and I find those that try to state that the romantic interpretation is the objective one just as irritating as those that state the sibling interpretation is the objective.

My intent is only to dispute the idea that romantic interpretations, and the people who hold them, deserve to be scrutinized. The pairing is completely innocent, and the treatment people have received for believing them to be romantic is obscene. Sweeping blanket statements have been made to insult all who do (some going as far as to wish death and harm upon them), all just based on subjective viewpoints held by people who see them platonically. The fact that there is so much discourse surrounding this topic, and that there is evidence enough on both ends to make an argument, means that Sega has intentionally left the relationship up to interpretation - including the romantic take.

Everyone unclutch your pearls.

But with all that said, I will reiterate that this post was not meant to convince anyone of one thing or another, but rather that both interpretations of their relationship are valid, as it is essentially a secret third thing that transcends both labels and is special only to them. Strictly defining their relationship as “siblings” or “love interests” (even as someone who perceives them romantically, I would never want that to be definitively confirmed for this reason) is deconstructing what is perhaps the most nuanced part of a series that does not always tend to be terribly nuanced, and a definition matters far less than acknowledging what Maria means to Shadow in the present – he is who he is because of her, and because of that, he is now living a life for himself. Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) ended in a way that had Shadow let Maria go, and Shadow Generations ends with him carrying her forward with him after accepting her loss. She was, and will always be, the person who loved Shadow - however you define that love is up to you.

Nothing has ever been hard confirmed by Sega, no matter how much either side wants to pretend it has been.

In summary, both points of view regarding Shadow and Maria’s relationship are simultaneously true and not true – it is a matter of interpretation according to the viewer what their feelings towards each other were, yet their relationship in the lens of what it is now after the tragedy of their existence (even before Maria died) is purposefully indefinable, and it should remain that way. Nobody should ever try to say that Shadow and Maria are definitively something - that goes for both points of view. I doubt it will, but I hope this goes towards removing the stigmas towards one of the more nuanced parts of this series, as nuance in Sonic the Hedgehog - frankly - does not come along very often, and it would be nice if that were encouraged rather than smothered.

Thank you for reading.

[hetalian-veteran]

Art Styles I Personally Think the Hetalia Characters Looked Their Best In (and Why) Part 2

Link to Part 1, Link to Part 3

Please note that I am referring to the show and not the webcomic. This is primarily because I didn't always have access to the webcomic and thus the show is what I've always been most familiar with. I will also refrain from talking about characters that have only appeared in one season.

Also, please keep in mind that these are just my opinions. And if you have any different ideas of what designs looked better, that's totally okay. At the end of the day, I'm just here to have fun.

America: Seasons 1-4

It was kind of hard to choose which design was best for America, seeing as they are all very similar to one another while also having different qualities that I liked. But I ultimately settled on the one from the first four seasons. I adore the WWII bomber jacket, as well as how the character in general was animated back then. Not to mention that the older art style just fits him so well. A lot of Americans have an "if it ain't broke don't fix it" attitude about things, so I find it fitting that, at least in my opinion, this also works for aph America. He looks great everywhere else, but I won't deny I have a nostalgia for the original. This was an exceptionally close tie with his design for season 5. Not to mention I once drew aph America fanart for an art project in middle school and got an A on it.

England: Season 5

Okay, I'm gonna be real here. This all came down to the eyebrows. Well, not entirely, but it definitely played a large part. I never had a problem with England's design in seasons 1-4, but those eyebrows though. They were so distracting. I understand wanting to give characters a prominent feature that makes you go, "Yep this is (insert character here)." But I think England's eyebrows were too overdone in the previous seasons. However, I also believe they were far too thin and lightened up in seasons 6-7. Season 5 had a good balance. Not too thick but not too thin. Also, I feel like his facial structure and design made him look kinda weird in season 7.

China: Season 5

So... I'm gonna be honest here. All of the other designs for China make him look like a young girl to me. Yes, he still looks sorta feminine in season 5, but not like he appears in seasons 1-4 and 6-7. In season 5 he actually looks more like an adult man to me. Not to mention his hair. Because holy crap that is some of the most beautiful hair I have ever seen put to animation

Russia: Season 6

This was a close tie between all his designs, but it ultimately came down the hair. Yes, I know, I talk about the characters hair a lot. But that really was the deciding factor for Russia. All his designs look great in that the long coat and vertical lines throughout give me the impression of a Russian nesting doll. Now, whether that was intentional on Hima's part or not, I cannot say. But it's a cool detail that I always notice whenever I see him. When it comes to his season 6 design, I like not only how innocent he looks (which is an important part of the design Hima intended from the beginning), but that his hair has some more fun detail too it. It looks so soft and fluffy, not like the previous designs that made it look like he had water dumped on his head.

France: Season 5

What can I say about this design that hasn't been said already? The only other character who had a bigger glow-up than France was Spain (who you can see my opinions on in a previous post). Literally everything here is an upgrade from his design through seasons 1-4. His hair looks so silky and soft, not like that yellow plastic we had earlier. Also, the hair ribbon tying it back looks so elegant and refined, fitting perfectly with the character. I also love the small detail of the ribbon being the same color of his eyes. It's a nice touch. His outfits this season are great as well. They are very simple, but still elegant, with soft, curved lines and balancing both warm and cool colors. Especially in his outfit during the Joan of Arc episode.

Canada: Season 5

I think I'm starting to have a favorite season in terms of character designs here. Canada just looks his cutest here, primarily because of his outfits. He has one of the most adorable and cozy wardrobes this season, and I want to raid this man's entire closet. I love the flannels and cozy jackets and hoodies that he has. As someone who grew up most of her life in northwest Montana (which, if you ask the rest of the US, is basically just lower Canada), I think I have to be a little biased here. Canada's design gives me the feeling of home in a way, and this is definitely a wardrobe that I embrace for a time growing up.

Austria: Seasons 1-4

The hair curl in his cowlick hits harder here, just getting that out of the way. There's more of a curl to it, which is more reflective of Himaruya's art style. And even though his wardrobe in the latter seasons is great, this one all around looks better to me. I like the royal blue lined with the deep red. And the cravat is just a fabulous detail that I love. Now that I think about it, everything about this design just feels very Himaruya. Like, this is one of his best character designs. There's also the placement of the mole on the bottom right-hand side of his face. In other designs, it's not as prominent. But here it's easier to see. I feel like it makes the design all the more unique.

Hungary: Seasons 1-4

THIS. This design for aph Hungary is top tier, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Something that has always intrigued me about Hungary is that she was raised primarily around men. So much so to the point where she saw herself as one growing up. But when she got older and realized she was actually a woman, she ended up adopting more feminine clothing and characteristics. Aph Hungary is a female character who balances both feminine and masculine traits. And her design from seasons 1-4 emulate this balance perfectly. Her long hair is a pale brown color, and her eyes a dark green. Unlike later seasons where she's given long, shiny, elegant hair and sparkling eyes. She's often found wearing either military uniforms or pretty dresses. We even see the evolution of her fashion from child to adult, where she goes from wearing her hair shorter to wearing it longer and with a flower. Her design encapsulates the idea that, yes, she is a woman. Yes, she is feminine. But at the same time, this is someone who has seen war and battle. (I might have to do a separate post about Hungary, because her design and character are honestly fascinating).

[milolovesbmc]

bites you… dilf whizzer is on my mind again

Whizzer Brown the man you are……..

[unordinaries]

presented without comment

(chapters 280 + 344)

[bloodbathfortwo]

What does everyone think of Nigel Forbes-Colbie ever getting pregnant? It doesn't matter how you interpret it: Omegaverse, males can get pregnant Au, Trans! Nigel. Just tell me your guys' headcanons of Nigel's pregnancy: The changes, the hardships, the softness, and the vulnerabilities.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

truly lmao 2024 lambda literary award finalist wynnstannery

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Aveline is one of those companions in Dragon Age that makes me say, "God, you're such a bitch... tell me more right now."

I don't hate Aveline; honestly, I don't hate any of the companions from any of the games, their flaws and negative aspects make them interesting... but oh my god, Aveline is infuriating and sometimes I just want to grab and shake her.

She's such a hypocrite. She believes she's so lawful good and would never fall to corruption but she absolutely does?? Just because it's not the same sort of corruption as Jeven doesn't mean it's not corruption??

The Magistrate's Orders quest where you go to find Kelder who has a history of kidnapping and killing elven children? Aveline strongly agrees with bringing down hard justice on Kelder. When one of the guards there says Kelder's father will have Hawke's head, she says, "Only if it's reported."

If you kill Kelder, Aveline gives you Friendship +5 because she understands that if you let Kelder go, he'll never face justice for his crimes because his father won't let him. If you let him go, she gives Rivalry +5. In this situation, Aveline is more approving of Hawke killing him because yeah, it's bad that Kelder is killing these elves and everyone is just covering it up.

Fast forward to the end of Act 2 where Aveline comes to Hawke like, "The qunari are harboring two fugitives, we can't let them do that, it'll be real bad if people think they can avoid punishment by hiding with the qunari, come help me."

But then you get there and the two fugitives are a pair of elves who admit they killed a guard who forced himself onto their sister because no one did anything when they reported it. So they took matters into their own hands... and Aveline has the balls to say, "That doesn't excuse murder."

What are you talking about??? And if Hawke asks her if it's true, she hesitates and says there were rumors and she'll investigate and I'm just.... what do you mean you'll investigate??? you heard rumors?? did you not investigate before??

Aveline "I don't coddle my men" Vallen, you KNEW someone reported this about that guard and what? You didn't investigate because?? Because nooo, not one of your men?? Aveline, just because you're in charge now doesn't mean ALL of the guard are as lawful and good as you supposedly are! There's always going to be corrupt guards and a good Guard-Captain would do everything in their power to seed out those guards for the betterment and safety of the people! They would take those accusations seriously! But the elves say no one did ANYTHING.

Then the part that really gets me, right? Is if Hawke says they would've done the same thing, Aveline gets pissed and says, "Hawke! That's not helping!"

But that's the thing- If it WAS one of Hawke's siblings in this exact situation instead of a nameless elf, Aveline would've taken it seriously. If the same guard forced himself onto Bethany or Carver and Hawke killed him for it, Aveline wouldn't be stomping around like, "That doesn't excuse murder, Hawke! How could you? You need to face justice!" No, she would've been all for killing the guard because it's Hawke and their sibling.

Aveline cares about Hawke and has a bias for them, so it's okay for them to do that but a couple of elves who, like Elren from the Magistrate's Orders quest, are sick of no one helping them when they need it do it.... Noooo, that doesn't excuse murder!

It's like Aveline can't ever admit she's in the wrong, either. She never takes accountability for this. Even if she just admitted that she should've investigated and she'll make an effort to be better for the sake of ALL people in Kirkwall [because Aveline believes "I stand for all of us!" so strongly that it's something she consistently says in battle] moving forward then I would be less what the fuck about it, but she just doesn't.

It's like with Emeric and the murders happening... she and her men supposedly investigate Emeric's claims that all these murders happening in Kirkwall are connected, but Aveline keeps dismissing him that there isn't enough evidence.... except there's SO MUCH EVIDENCE when Hawke goes to investigate DuPuis, funny enough.

It's takes Leandra going missing before Aveline takes the case seriously. Even Emeric dying is like.... "oh no, he's dead, he was right... let's not do anything about it." It's takes Leandra dying for Quinton to be caught and killed, and my Hawke always lashes out at her for this and she just.... stands there like "Okay. Nothing I can say will make it better. Sorry for your loss."

but actually, yes, you COULD say you'll learn from this and do what you can to be better.... but again, Aveline just doesn't want to hear it?? then the qunari shit happens after!

And I get it. Aveline is only one person. She's Guard-Captain but she can't be everywhere at once and sometimes there really isn't enough evidence to convict someone of a crime. I'm sure she has a lot of work and stress in her position... but god, it's her inability to face the fact that she isn't this great embodiment of lawful good and that she IS corrupt in a lot of ways.

Turning a blind eye to the corruption in your guard, coddling your men and getting pissy when Hawke comes to you like, "So, Cullen sent me a letter that there are complaints about you and he wants me to investigate because he's scared of you and really don't want your job so.... are you coddling your men?" and having your husband, someone completely biased in your favor, vouch for you like.... that's being a little corrupt, Aveline??? a little dishonest?? a little abuse of your power?? why are you so frustrating???

I have a lot of criticism of her [like don't even get me started on how she ruined Carver's opportunity with the guard when that absolutely was not in her right to do] but I still find her to be interesting in a complicated, frustrating way. I have theories about why she's Like This that stem from her father and upbringing, but that's an analysis for another day. I just needed to get these thoughts out because I'm replaying DA2 and Aveline always hits a nerve.

[sonicboomseason3]

a brief recap of what has been going on with the sonic movieverse in the past several months:

paramount has come out in public support of israel

keanu reeves, a man who has publicly rubbed elbows with none other than benjamin netanyahu, reportedly gets cast as shadow for the upcoming third movie

james marsden, the guy who plays tom, got exposed as having written a letter of support for a convicted pedophile

there's fucking??? zionist propaganda in the knuckles series???

kind of connected to the last point but adam pally, the guy who plays wade, is evidently pro-israel too

this is a complete and utter joke.

EDIT AS OF 4/30/24: if people see this version of the post, i'd really appreciate it if you reblog it instead of the other versions, as it's the most updated one with all the information that i want included. thank you :]

you know, it's been a few days since i've made this post, and some of you (not most) are staying determined in defending/justifying/giving the benefit of the doubt to keanu for that photo with netanyahu, whether it's because "it was a decade ago," "him being civil to someone he ran into at a party one time doesn't mean anything," "he's probably just silent because his pr managers won't allow him to speak up," etc. i've made my thoughts on the matter quite clear by directly responding to these people, but at this point, i'm tired of both seeing them in my notes and repeating myself, so take this as my final word on the issue.

i can't help it if you don't think the photo with netanyahu is damning, and i'm done engaging with everyone going out of their way to tell me that. i obviously disagree, especially after finding out that 1. the host of the party, arnon milchan, is a former israeli spy who has a history of developing israel's nuclear program and promoting apartheid in south africa (information that had broken out a few months prior to the party and thus would've been fresh news around the time keanu chose to attend) and 2. keanu has been caught hanging around at least two other weirdos, but if you don't find any of that to be cause for reasonable concern, then there really is nothing else i can say afaik.

with all that said, i'm beginning to realize how strange it is that these people's first instinct when seeing this post is to start debating about keanu's political stances without ever acknowledging any of the other bullet points. you guys realize that this isn't just about him, right? i know tumblr reading comprehension is known for being piss-poor, but like… you realize that i was trying to make a point of how there are MULTIPLE terrible things that have broken out about the people and company involved in the sonic movies, right? and yet, a lot of the people leaping to speak on keanu's behalf in my notes are completely ignoring the parts where i bring up paramount, pally, etc. all in favor of zeroing in on the singular point about keanu and making bad faith assumptions about me for holding him accountable. really makes one wonder where your priorities lie if, in a post that talks about so many other things, me accusing an a-list celebrity with, according to google, a net worth of almost $400 million is where you draw the line and apparently the only thing worth your acknowledgment.

ultimately, what i'm trying to say is that the intention of this post was just to gather up everything that i had been hearing for the past several months and put it all together in one place. there were a bunch of people who didn't know about at least one of the bullet points before seeing this post, and i'm glad that i could help inform them, that was what i was hoping to do! but as for the keanu thing, i've said pretty much all i can say for now, and i don't want to derail the original post even more than i may have already. unless something new comes up, i'm done talking about him.

[healmydesires]

Ok so the recent post that you made on my filthy thot Logan how about you take the led of dominance one night instead of Logan and he absolutely loves it

a/n: nonnie, this is sooooo hot. I kinda had to adjust it a bit tho <3 hope you don’t mind! thank you for sending this!!! 🩷 mwah

you got my attention ꕤ (l.h)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Though Logan lets you take control and show your appreciation, in the end, you're still the one begging for him.

genre: smut (with some fluff in the end tbh) (18+ mdni)

word count: 5,8k

warnings/tags: established relationship, same universe as this fic, porn with barely no plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, lap dance, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, sub!reader, use of handcuffs, slight choking, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight orgasm denial / edging but it’s short ngl, overstimulation, face sitting, doggy, rough sex, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk. some daddy kink? breeding kink fuck sorry. I wrote this while I’m on my period lol. lots of pet names. this is high key filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. after care. this is not beta read sorry!

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

You're sitting on the bed you share with Logan, waiting for him to enter the bedroom where you're dressed in soft, pastel lilac lace lingerie. You've been intimate with Logan many times before, so you know what to expect, but this time feels a little different. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling a bit anxious. Logan usually takes control in the bedroom, but tonight, you've been wondering what it would be like if you were the one to take the lead.

If there's one thing you love doing, it's teasing Logan. You thrive on the thrill of acting out just to get a reaction from him, and you enjoy being a brat more than anything. You love being submissive, and there's nothing you'd rather be. 

But the thought of making him feel like you're in control, even if only for a few minutes, gets you all hot and bothered. You know Logan might take back control quickly, but just having that moment of power excites you.

You’ve always thought that stripping for Logan or putting on a show would be something fun to try one night. The idea of showing him how much you appreciate him by dancing to sensual music while he sits back on a chair or the couch, watching your body move, excites you. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot and turned on.

Logan’s entrance pulls you out of your thoughts as the door swings open. His eyes lock on you immediately, taking in the sight of the delicate lingerie clinging to your skin. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says with a playful smile, clearly appreciating the little fabric you're wearing. 

The lingerie you’re wearing is a lilac set with turquoise and lilac flowers embroidered onto the lace. The cups of your balconette bra are pretty transparent unless it’s for the floral details at the top to the middle of the cups, barely covering your nipples. You can see his eyes travel from your chest to your waist as he takes in the elastic band, covered with the same lace pattern, of the suspenders. His eyes linger a bit too long as he takes in the small thing that barely hides the curves of your ass. A matching thong, the elastic band sitting just below your suspenders. Logan’s eyes wander from your covered core to your shoulders as he notices the lilac see through robe with lacy details hanging off your shoulders loosely.

“Hi,” you manage to respond, your voice soft and trembling. Your cheeks heating up as his intense gaze travels up and down your body, sending a wave of warmth through you. For a brief second, you feel the familiar pull to submit, to let him take control like always. But then you remind yourself to stick to your original intentions.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Sticking to your original plan, you clear your throat and muster the courage to speak, despite the stutter. “C-could you, uh, sit in the chair?” You ask, nervously. Logan raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request.

An amused smile then tugs at the corners of his lips as he nods briefly, surprised but clearly understanding what you're trying to do. “Are you asking or telling?” Logan teases, his voice smooth, challenging, and dripping with amusement.

The playful tone sends a shiver through you, momentarily shaking your confidence. You know he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll follow through. Swallowing the nervousness building inside you, you take a slow, deep breath, determined to stick to your plan, no matter how intimidating his presence feels right now.

His response makes your heart pound in your chest. Mustering up every ounce of confidence you can find, you lock eyes with him and say, “I said go sit in the chair.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, definitely out of character for you, but there's a spark of amusement in Logan's eyes that encourages you to keep going.

You can tell he’s entertained by this rare side of you, and though it feels strange, the thrill of his reaction pushes you to stick with it. His eyebrow raises slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and for a moment, you feel a rush of control that excites you even more.

Logan never takes his eyes off you as he makes his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Settling into it, he leans back, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze remains sharp and unwavering. You watch as takes off his shirt and pulls down his jeans, exposing his hard cock pressing against his boxers. The look he gives you, despite your attempt to take control, makes it clear he still holds the power. His mischievous eyes silently tell you he could end your little fantasy whenever he chooses, effortlessly reminding you of who’s really in charge, even as he watches you with quiet anticipation.

Logan watches you walk towards the closet, opening it before you kneel down on the soft carpet in front of it as your hand tries to reach for something inside the closet. His eyes travel to your ass, observing your curves, how plump your ass looks. The way your cheeks squeeze the barely there material between them.

You can practically feel his eyes burning into you—more specifically, your ass—because you know exactly where he's staring. The heat of his gaze makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. After rummaging for a moment, you finally find what you’re looking for and stand up slowly, making sure to give Logan a lingering view of your curves. The sound of his low groan reaches your ears, sending a thrill through you. You close the closet doors and turn around, carefully hiding the vivid pink, silky handcuffs you picked up along with the lingerie just days ago.

Keeping the handcuffs tucked behind your back, you walk slowly toward him, not quite ready to reveal your little secret yet. As you reach him, you lean down to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. It ends far too quickly for his liking, and a deep grunt escapes his throat as you pull away, leaving him wanting more. Your hand trails lightly from one of his shoulders, across his chest, to the other, the soft touch of your fingers making his skin feel like it's on fire. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body almost trembling from the contact, as you circle behind him. You know he could moan from just the simple touch, and the thought of having him on edge excites you even more.

You take the handcuffs, the sound of the metal clinking behind him making Logan’s ears perk up. You hook one around his wrist, half-expecting him to protest, but when he remains silent, you continue and secure the other cuff in place. You lift your head to his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss at his pulse point, making him moan as you finish up behind him. Walking back to face him, you notice a playful smile spread across his face, a look that makes your heart race.

“What?” you ask, mirroring his amused expression, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you realise he’s not taking you seriously at all.

“Nothing, princess,” Logan shrugs, his grin widening. 

You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. “Sure.” Normally, on any other day, Logan would have you pinned beneath him or bent over his knee, spanking you until your skin is flushed and raw. But tonight, he finds it endearing to watch you take charge. So, instead of resisting, he decides to lean into it. In fact, he’s more than willing to let you explore this new dynamic and see just how far you’ll take it.

Then, you lean down and plant a soft kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a deep groan from him. “Now sit back and watch. Let me take care of you,” you whisper seductively in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. With that, you glide toward the desk, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you search for the perfect song to dance to. 

A smile spreads across your face as you finally settle on a track that feels just right. Pressing play, the smooth beats of "Sway" by Majid Jordan fill the room, setting the mood with its sultry rhythm. As the music envelops you, you can sense Logan’s eyes on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and desire. The moment feels electric, and you know it’s time to give him a show he won’t forget.

You stride toward the bed, positioning yourself right in the center of the room, directly in front of him. As the singer begins to croon the lyrics, you let the robe slide down your shoulders, pausing just at your elbows, deliberately teasing him with each movement. Swaying your hips slowly to the beat of the song, you lick your lips, feeling the heat of his gaze on you. 

With each deliberate motion, your hands glide slowly up and down your chest, accentuating your curves as you keep your eyes locked on his. You circle your hips, letting the rhythm guide you, fully aware of the effect it has on him. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the desire radiating from him, fueling your confidence as you embrace the moment.

Temptation, conversation, I hear what you sayin'~♪ 

You lose yourself to the song as you move your body closer to his, still keeping a good distance between you two. 

“Baby girl, you’re so hot…” Logan groans as his eyes admire your body, his eyes flicking back and forth from one place to the other like he doesn’t know where to look.

Playing safe but we're losing our patience~♪ 

With each sway (literally, like the title of the song) of your hips, you move to the rhythm of the song, feeling the music pulse through you as you notice his gaze tracing the curves of your body, lingering over every dip and contour.

The combination of his awestruck expression and your confident movements sends a thrill through you, urging you to keep going. You enjoy the way he watches, almost hypnotised, as you revel in the moment, fully aware that you’re in control.

Doin' things that my body is cravin'~♪ 

Your fingers wander from your hips to your backside and you squeeze your cheeks softly as you give Logan a show. The moment he sees you touching yourself like this, a low moan escapes his lips, and you can’t help but bite your own in response, revelling in the effect you have on him.

The pleasure of his gaze fuels your confidence, making you feel even more desirable. You relish the way he watches, captivated and hungry for more, as you continue to tease him, lost in the thrill of the moment.

So amazing the way that she moves~♪ She's my favorite dancer~♪ 

Seductively, you slowly turn around, then you sink yourself to the floor. Once on your knees, you crawl steadily towards him. As you’re slowly making your way to him, you’re never breaking eye contact as you smile up at him. 

As you draw closer, you rise up onto your knees, your hands gliding along his ankles and tracing up to his thighs. You gently spread his legs wider, making room for yourself between them. Logan's breath hitches in his throat at your boldness, and you can’t help but smile coyly as you bite your bottom lip, savouring his reaction. 

Your hands continue their journey, moving from his thighs to his hips and then to his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him. Slowly but sensually, you rise in front of him, each movement deliberate, exuding confidence and allure as you prepare to captivate him even further.

“You’re breathtaking…” he moans your name while your lips move to ghost over his lips. You feel and see his squirm against the hold of the handcuffs.

You smirk as you hover your hips over his lap. Using the music to your advantage, you move your body to the rhythm of the song, making sure to emphasise on your movements. Your arms around his neck as you slowly lower your lower body on his lap, sitting down, your heat against his clothed cock straining against his underwear. Pressing your needy and throbbing clit against his dick. His eyes are gazing into yours, all you can see is lust and desire. You grind against his crotch making Logan groan at your movements. Finally you lean down your lips against his, swallowing his moans in your mouth. 

“You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers breathily against your lips as you continue your little performance, swaying and grinding your hips against his. You hum with a smile before you capture his lips again. 

His mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate. He parts his lips slightly to catch his breath. Your tongue sweeps across Logan’s lips making him gasp, tongue wrapping itself against his a moment later, hot and wet and steady as you taste his mouth and kiss him deeply.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands wander all over his body. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet the more you grind against him. You whimper at the feel of him bucking his hips against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. The thong you’re wearing surely ruined by now, clinging against your wet folds.

Soon the music would fade into the background as all you can focus on is him. Logan’s leaning his head forward as much as he can, wanting so badly to grab handfuls of your ass while slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans into your mouth, biting and sucking on your bottom lip. 

You begin to rock your hips against his, dragging your core over his crotch, the friction sending pleasurable sensations coursing through you. However, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, leaving you unsure about how to proceed. Despite this uncertainty, you continue the movement, instinctively seeking relief for the ache building in your core. 

Logan notices the hesitation in your movements, his perceptive gaze catching the flicker of insecurity in your eyes. He starts to thrust his hips against yours, urging you on. “Good girl, you can do it,” he says in his low, deep voice, the words igniting a whimper from your lips as you pick up the pace, guiding your hips a bit faster in response. 

“Need you, kitten. Please, I need to feel you. Take these panties off,” he pleads, his tone dripping with desire. You shake your head, refusing to comply, which only draws a chuckle from him as he watches you squirm on top of him.

“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll choose when I want to take them off,” you retort, feeling a thrill of defiance as his eyes wander from your face to your soaked panties. The big wet spot at the front betrays just how much you want his cock filling you up, pushing deep inside and making a mess.

“Just you wait until I’m out of these,” Logan replies, maintaining that boyish smile that makes your heart race. You hardly care about his playful threat; instead, you steady yourself on his shoulders and keep grinding your clit against his clothed cock. He’s right about the panties, but you’re not about to let him dictate the moment. Reaching down, you push the fabric aside, letting your pussy lips glide against him, the contact sending shivers through your body. 

“Oh, kitten,” he moans, captivated by the sight of your arousal dripping down onto his underwear. “Look at you.” His low, sultry voice sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation of his throbbing cock against your wetness nearly overwhelming.

“Feels so fucking good,” you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure wash over you.

As the pressure builds toward your orgasm, you suddenly stand up, discarding the delicate lingerie that clings to you. As you’re undressing yourself in front of him he can’t help but growl. You glance at him cautiously, as he stares at you hungrily. You’re longing for him to taste you but feeling a hint of embarrassment about taking the initiative. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “Go ahead baby girl, let me taste you.” His encouragement sparks a rush of confidence within you, urging you to take control and fully embrace the moment.

His choice of words only heightens your arousal, making it feel as if he’s the one compelling you to act. Logan's cock is oozing with precum, and you can feel the dampness spreading on his underwear as you hook a leg over his shoulder, bringing yourself closer to him. 

You stretch a bit uncomfortably in this position, but any discomfort fades away the moment he leans forward and licks from your entrance to the top of your clit. 

A loud moan escapes you as his warm, wet tongue finally makes contact with your pussy. You sigh into the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself as you urge him deeper. His tongue glides up your folds, skillfully exploring your puffy lips, occasionally pausing to plant soft kisses on your clit. He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth.

Logan groans against you, sending delicious vibrations coursing through your body as you tug on his hair, lost in the pleasure. You find yourself grinding your hips forward, desperately seeking more contact as your arousal drips down into his beard.

“That’s it, good girl, use my fuckin’ mouth,” he moans against you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between sucking it in and releasing it, the repetitive motion making your head spin. “Taste so good.”

“Fuck, Lo—” you whine as you grind yourself against his lips.

Each flick and tug sends you spiralling, and you begin to whine, yearning for his large fingers to fill your tight little hole. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you slip deeper into that precious sub headspace, becoming acutely aware of his restrained hands. Logan picks up on your shift in mood immediately.

“Please, Lo,” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice. You need him so badly it borders on painful.

“Please, what?” he retorts, then dives his tongue into your clenching hole, making you gasp. He groans, fucking your little pussy with his tongue, his nose brushing tantalizingly over your clit. “This is what you wanted, ain’t that right?” 

“F-fuck, ah, I’m gonna c-cum,” you gasp, urgency spilling from your lips instead of a question. The relentless contact of his nose against your sensitive clit pushes you to the edge, and your pussy contracts around his tongue, releasing a wave of pleasure. You scream his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair with a mix of urgency and desperation, your ears ringing as the world around you fades into bliss, unaware of the metal cuffs breaking free.

You can feel his hands on your skin, the heat of your orgasm squirting out of you, painting his mouth beautifully as he continues to feast on your cunt. You breathe heavily as Logan moans loudly at the sweet taste of you, feeling both blissed out and utterly exposed.

You’re still coming down from your high when suddenly, you yelp in surprise as he lifts you with ease, your trembling legs instinctively wrapping around his body. In one fluid motion, Logan throws you onto the bed, and a whine escapes your lips as you feel the familiar neediness surge within you, your pussy so slick and wanting for more.

He pulls his boxers down, letting his erection finally spring free. Logan’s thick and big cock is so hard, dripping with precum and you almost whimper at the sight of it. He then makes his way up to the bed. Situating himself between your legs he smiles deviously. 

Oh—

“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten. I’ll show you who’s in control.” 

Your cheeks flare up furiously at his request, you feel your body trembling with excitement as you flip on your stomach, getting on your hands and knees, your face down on the mattress as you raise your ass in the air for him. Logan groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.

You bite your bottom lip and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. All dripping wet for me,” he whispers to you and you feel his fingers sliding up and down your slit and then opening your folds for him to see.

You wanted to tell him how he’s the only one that can do this to you, how much you love him, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, parting them as he quickly leans down and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise making you almost fall on the bed, your arms almost giving out on you.

You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as he keeps licking up and down and sucking on your clit. When you whine, his tongue swirls around your entrance.

“F-fuck, s-so sensitive. Da-daddy please, oh—”

But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whimper desperately at the loss of the feeling of his tongue, only to have him kiss your lower back and up your spine, hands sliding up and down your body.

“Please,” you whine pathetically.

You can't see it, but he's smiling down at you, shaking his head as he revels in his victory over the battle for control. “What happened, baby? Suddenly you need my help?”

You shake your head yes rapidly, not caring how desperate you look. “Please, please, I’ll be good for you, please. I’ll be your good girl.” 

“I thought you wanted to be in control,” he pokes fun at you, his hips not touching as he places soft kisses down your back. You wish he was fucking into you already. You start to whine when you feel his thumb press into your clit. He doesn’t move it at all, just applies slight pressure and lets it rest there. “But you need your daddy, don’t you? You need me so badly. Pathetic little kitty.” 

“I-I do,” you gasp, frustrated by his unmoving thumb. Your body is trembling in anticipation. “Please daddy.” 

A moment later you feel him grind his thick cock against your dripping heat, you’re aching for him to fill you up. A loud moan fills the room along with your whines, with a strong grip on your hips a second later he eases the tip inside, making you gasp as your whole body trembles. 

“Please…” You whine desperately as you feel him halt his movements, a small portion of the tip only inside you. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.

“Patience baby girl,”

You whimper as he finally slides more and more of his thickness inside of you. You squeeze your eyes tightly as he fills you up. The pressure of his cock deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Take it, princess. Take daddy’s cock.”

Then his massive cock is completely splitting you open. Logan thrusts his whole length into you, black dots cover your vision at the feeling of it. Your pussy pulses around him as you struggle to adjust to his size.

“Ah, fuck!” Tears are already dripping down your face onto the mattress. His cock is so big, long and hard and he makes your pussy and tummy feel so full of him. 

You whimper at the new angle, struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. It feels as though your pussy can never fully adjust to his size. As your walls squeeze around him, trying to adapt, Logan uses more force to push deeper, stretching you further. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, as it feels like you’re being torn open, split in half by his thickness.

“Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes and starts moving, fucking you at an impossible pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him fills the room along with both of your frantic moans. His heavy balls are hitting against your clit with every thrust. The feeling is heaven on earth. 

All you can answer with are moans as they slip off your lips. Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell Logan, breathlessly, about how good he makes you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Logan picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, you whine as you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his thick cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, the tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood daddy, p-please more…”

“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once, making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder with each movement, blending with the slick sounds of your pussy meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with the little noises of pleasure escaping your mouth. 

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Logan asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”

“Yes, daddy. Fuck, please… Can I please cum?” you ask this time, completely out of breath. 

“No, you little brat,” Logan growls, picking up the pace even more. He grabs you by your hair, jerks your head up and pulls you back towards him. “Patience.” 

The delicious thrusts of his cock don’t falter as he presses your back into his chest. He wraps a strong hand around your throat, and the other arm holds you steady by the waist. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper repeatedly, your body trembling with need.

“Oh, I know you can,” he says aggressively. “I know you fuckin’ can. And you will.” 

He grinds his hips in circles, and you nearly scream from the overwhelming sensation. You desperately try to hold back the orgasm that's building rapidly, clenching your pussy tightly around his thick cock. He lets out deep moans at the feeling of you, fully aware that he’s close to cumming but wanting to savour your pussy for just a little longer. Logan slows his pace slightly, giving both of you a brief moment to catch your breath before he picks up the rhythm again, quick and rough.

“Look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.” Logan cursed when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up, kitten, make it all nice and full,” he promises.

The head of his cock rubs against your walls deliciously, snapping you out of your small daze as you nod frantically. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up daddy!” You’re whimpering with every thrust of his cock. 

“Tell me who’s in control and I’ll let you cum,” he says slowly into your ear, grip around your throat tightening a bit and making the feeling that more intense.

“You, Lo,” you manage to get out, “Always you.”

“Cum on my cock then,” Logan gives you permission. Another few thrusts is all it takes to send you over the edge, shouting out his name as your ears ring from the pressure. You’re on cloud nine as you let your body relax and feel the brutal pounding of his cock. It drags inside of you so perfectly, hitting every sweet spot you have. Your needy cunt is clenching, throbbing, and milking his cock while you cum all over him.  Logan groans in your ear as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him for his orgasm, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised. “This pussy was made for me. So fuckin’ tight wrapped around me.” 

Your cum drips down both of your legs, coating his cock and balls, quickly forming a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, Logan talks you through it, whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He gasps as you pulse around him, desperate for him to spill his load inside you, needing to witness him fall apart.

“Ah, shit—” he rasps, thrusting deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your cervix with delicious force. “Are you going to take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re a messy little thing, hm?”

You shiver at his words, your mouth dropping open in awe as you close your eyes, completely lost in the sensation, nodding eagerly. “Please, please.”

Moments later, you feel him unravel against you, and soon his cum starts to shoot deep inside you. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good baby girl.”

As his thrusts come to a complete stop, he pulls out of you, and you let your body fall limp against the mattress, feeling utterly drained. Soon Logan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly spinning you around to pull you against his chest. He kisses you softly, and you moan at the taste of yourself still on his lips. As he pulls away, he gazes down at you with soft eyes and a charming smile, the warmth of the moment enveloping you both.

“Sorry for ruining your little plan,” Logan teases gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, smiling up at him. “I figured I’d give it a try… but I feel like I’m not that great at it.”

He shakes his head, leaning closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweet girl. That was so fuckin' hot. In fact, I might want you to try it again.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes brightening at his praise.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Maybe next time, I can teach you a thing or two about taking control.”

“Really?” You smile happily, your fingers running through his messy dark hair. 

“Mhm,” he hums, his heart swelling at your excitement.

Biting your lip bashfully, you shrug, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I much prefer having you in control, though.”

“That so?” Logan smirks mischievously, his hands beginning to wander all over your body, reigniting the familiar heat between you.

“Yes, you’re so hot when you’re dominant,” you giggle, leaning up to cover Logan’s face with playful kisses.

“Oh, just when I’m dominant?” he teases, smirking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Logan, you know what I mean!” you pout, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face. “You’re always hot!”

Logan chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through you as he gently cups your cheeks with both hands, trying to capture your lips. Once he does, he presses a series of quick, light pecks against your mouth, grinning widely. You giggle against him, the sound filling the space between you both as he keeps chasing your lips, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.

“I love you so much, baby. You mean everything to me,” Logan murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of emotion. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer as his warmth surrounds you. 

With a gentle roll, Logan shifts your bodies, laying you down so your back sinks into the softness of the blankets and pillows. His lips never leave yours as you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, his hands still cradling your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across the skin under your eyes. 

“You’re everything to me too, Lo,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of affection, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love you.”

You’re both basking in each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy between you settling into something warm and peaceful. The earlier rush of passion has given way to a serene calmness, where even the soft rhythm of your breaths seems to sync together. Logan’s fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, and you feel completely at ease, wrapped in his embrace. 

Then, just as you’re lulled into this tranquil moment, you notice a familiar gleam of mischief in Logan’s eyes. His hands slowly slide down to your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin in a way that sends a subtle thrill through you. He caresses you slowly, and the soft strokes make your body stir. 

With a playful grin, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Another round?” His voice is teasing but full of intent, a promise of what’s to come. You feel the shift in his energy, playful yet laced with the kind of desire that tells you he’s far from finished with you tonight. 

“Logan!” you giggle, giving him a playful push, but he only grins wider. In a swift motion, he pulls you close again, silencing your laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. Your playful giggles soon turn into soft, breathy moans as his hands roam your body, and yours do the same, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles.

The night unfolds in a tangle of kisses and wandering hands, the air between you charged with love and desire. Every touch, every kiss, is a reminder of the bond you share, and the passion between you feels endless. The world fades away, and all that remains is Logan. His touch, his gaze, and the warmth of his presence pull you in, leaving you completely lost in him.

thank you for reading <3 mwah

[ponchigg]

How To Actually Set Intention To Reality Shift.

Original post made by LadyNuggie on the reddit shifting community r/Shiftingrealities. All credits to them.

Setting the intention to shift is one of the most widely discussed topics in the shifting community. A lot of shifters (especially on tiktok) will tell you "all you need to shift is intention." One girl literally said, "all you need to shift is intention, and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're lying." Something about that didn't sit right with me and it took me a while to put my finger on why that statement bothered me.

The thing is, first of all, all you need to shift is intention and the right altered state of consciousness that works for you so you can connect to your DR and detach from your CR. But besides that, let's say all you did need to shift was intention. Well then, how do you set that intention? Because there is a right way to set intention and a wrong way.

Setting intention isn't going to sleep half hoping you wake up in your DR. Some people have literally shifted that way, but that doesn't mean that that is how you actually set intention. The key to setting intention is moving a message, desire or want from your conscious mind into your subconscious mind. Your conscious mind makes up about 5% of what we call "the mind". The remaining 95% is your subconscious and unconscious mind. Your subconscious is comprised of everything you've ever seen, heard, tasted, and experienced. Your thoughts, beliefs, values, and habits all stem from the workings of your subconscious mind. That is why "reprogramming your subconscious mind" is a popular topic in the shifting community.

Now, you set intention by ingraining or imprinting your desire into your subconscious mind. Simply having a thought or want in your head does not mean that the intention has been set. And this is where I explain what prospective memory is.

Prospective memory is when you have a "prospect" or something in mind that you want to accomplish later. Maybe you want to remember to buy more toilet paper the next time you drive by target or you need to remember to pick up your sister from her piano recital. You remember to do those tasks in the future because of prospective memory.

When trying to learn how to lucid dream, one of the first concepts you come across is reality checking, which is basically performing an action multiple times throughout the day so that you get used to it and at some point do it in a dream (because it's been ingrained into your subconscious and has become a habit). So if your reality check is counting your fingers, when the action pops up in a dream, you become lucid because in a dream you could have 8 or 4 fingers on one hand and you realize it's a dream!

Let's say you told yourself that whenever you walk into a room or stand up from a seat, you would do a reality check. That is you utilizing your prospective memory. That way, the action shows up in a dream because your subconscious mind "remembered" to do it!

So how does this relate to shifting? Well, a major reason why sleep methods don't work for a lot of people is because (like me) they have weak prospective memory. You could tell me to clap twice in the next 30 seconds and I'll forget. So it's no wonder that I "forget" to shift when I use sleep methods.

You shift with a sleep method when you set the intention to shift (using prospective memory) to your DR and detach from your CR through an altered state of consciousness (in this case, that would be sleep). When you successfully shift using a sleep method, it is because your subconscious "remembered" to do so!

This is also why a lot of people have dreams about their DR. Because the images, people and sensations from their DR have been ingrained in their subconscious mind, so they dream about it! I've literally had dreams where I walked through a portal to try to shift although I wasn't lucid.

So if you want to use sleep methods, (although this is important for any kind of shifting method) I highly recommend working on your prospective memory by giving yourself little tasks to do throughout the day. You could also start doing reality checks, that way, even if you don't shift at least you could have a lucid dream which you could use to shift anyways.

An Example of a Prospective Memory Exercise for Shifting (can also be used for lucid dreaming):

▪️ The next time I walk into the kitchen I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I turn on a light bulb I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I pick something up from the floor I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I flush the toilet I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

Try to do each task 3 times each day. Good luck!

[pomefioredove]

Imagine the overbloat gang as fathers or like proud/panicking that their s/o is having a child and they don't know what to do

Imagine the gang trying to give their kids a goid life and getting baby fever like who wouldn't because the kid is literally a mixed of him and you and they gush about how much they love their s/o and children like ???????

Overbload gang as fathers and i will start violently sob

I do have a weakness for familial headcanons :) future au time??

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ as fathers

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (no mentions of the child's origins), reader is not specified to be yuu, obviously takes place in the future

I think Riddle is one of the most reluctant to have children

for years he was strictly against them. his excuses were always that children are messy, unruly, his career, his relationship with you... but he was mostly just afraid of turning into his mother

as he gets older and forms his own identity, though, he realizes that it takes a lot of intentional effort to fuck up a child like his mom did, and he changes his mind

I can see him with... maybe two kids

he would never want an only child. after all, the bonds he made with his peers are what kept him going

he is a pretty good parent overall. maybe a little to focused on bedtimes and table manners, but the kids don't seem to mind

Trey and Che'nya babysit often (and it's always disastrous)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

talking Leona into the idea of fatherhood is like diffusing a bomb with a blindfold on. the guy won't even JOKE about it

if you do end up with a kid, it's unplanned, whether that be pregnancy or baby left on the doorstep

but he makes a surprisingly(?) good father. defo a girl dad, he would spoil a daughter rotten. lets her beat the daylights out of Neji because that's his little princess :)

parenting is really not as scary as he thought it was going to be

he has "I'm just resting my eyes" *falls asleep for 8 hours on the reclining chair in the living room* dad energy

the hardest part?

pretending to like vegetables in front of the kid to set a good example

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul would actually be an awesome dad idc. IDC!

he has a good relationship with his mom and stepdad (who definitely babysit all the time; they insist on it), so he has good role models

he's not even worried about how it'll affect his career! Azul has a "do it all" personality: businessman, entrepreneur, father, aspiring millionaire...

and he is so overprotective

he'd cover that kid in bubble wrap if you'd let him

but he's really more concerned about their feelings. sending them to school is much harder than closing a business deal

he's a little sensitive, but he knows he'll have to trust them eventually

P.S. the tweels are NOT allowed to babysit. bad influences

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil. ohhh Jamil :(

kids were never on the table for him, even after he met you and fell in love, he just... couldn't imagine it

regardless of whether or not he and his family are in a better place. (for the sake of this story, let's pretend they are. I want him to be happy) he just has so much generational trauma that he knows the child will end up with some, anyway

when, if, he's ready, it will still be a tough process. but worth it

he's such a supportive dad. bragging about his child at any chance, definitely the kind of dad to show everyone the baby pictures without being asked

it gets embarrassing for them as they grow, but he doesn't care

he thinks they're the greatest thing ever, and people should know that!

he is so proud

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil had always wanted to play a father on screen, but once he hits that age, he starts thinking about real life, too

he's gotten where he wants to be, after all: he's still young, he's in love, and his career, as successful as it is, is starting to wind down. so, why not?

he is the most supportive partner you could ask for. despite his schedule, he's involved in everything (yes, even the messy stuff)

he's got a customized baby bjorn and everything

I can see him with... one. just one is enough for him. he also has girl dad energy. he's already looking forward to playing princesses and letting her do his makeup (terribly, of course)

he knows his child will grow to have their own wants and thoughts and personality, and he's supportive. besides, if he has another Epel on his hands, he'll know how to handle them

just... gentler, this time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

for you, anon, I will enterain the idea that Idia may someday reproduce. but there's still a 50% chance that kid is a robot

joking (kind of)

I don't think he'd even really want kids. considering his own unhappy childhood and the whole curse of his bloodline thing. but, like the others, he can be convinced!

I think he'd make a pretty good father, tbh. neurotic, sure, but he's not too clingy, nor too distant

whatever kids he has will be smart, and he trusts them. he likes teaching them nerdy stuff, too (finally, someone he can infodump to!!!)

he probably ends up with more than he'd think. 2 or 3

as long as you never bring up how cringe he was in college, he's rather mature and prepared for anything

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

out of the whole lineup, Malleus is the the only one to have thought your future children while at NRC. daydreamed, really

I know, not surprising. look at the guy. he's practically kicking his legs back and forth while coming up with baby names in game

it was just a fantasy at first, then you became closer, graduated, got older, and...

Lilia began teasing him about getting grandkids, and Malleus took him quite seriously

he knows he's still young (though, at his age, Lilia was already general), but he doesn't want to wait forever. you both have many long talks on the matter

and end up with... as many children as you can handle, basically

Malleus is somewhat of an awkward father (having been raised by Lilia will do that to you)

but he cares. and he tries! very hard. plus, there's always Lilia, Silver, and Sebek around to lend a hand

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 5 (Part One)

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You let Mister Miller help you out of a slump and learn you might like a little pain

WC: 8.9k

CW: Reader as some descriptors (freckles, long hair etc) so this might be more of an original character vs female reader. Dom/Sub dynamics, pet names (sweet girl, baby, baby girl etc). More CW in red below the cut but will contain spoilers.

AN: THANK YOU for being sooooo patient with me while I delayed this chapter. This is only HALF of the chapter and as soon as my lovely @lotusbxtch beta's the other half I will post it. No pressure thought, bb!! I just couldn't WAIT to share this since you've all been so wonderful and supportive. Moodboard by me, dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

CW: riding crop, oral (male and female receiving), male masturbation, female orgasms, hand cuffs, deep throating/face fucking, descriptions of self doubt and panic attacks; reader is going through it, ok? Hair pulling, Joel is a bit mean but he does it with love and care. Joel being a consent and aftercare king.

Joel

Joel sits on the Trocadéro platform of Café de l’Homme, the birds chirping and the sound of rustling papers keeping him from getting too lost in his thoughts of you. Sarah sits across from him, a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower to their left, and a buying agreement typed out in French taking up most of the table. Joel might not look like it, but he can see himself eventually living out his years in either Paris or Italy. He speaks enough French and Italian to get by, but relies on Sarah to read over the contract for her new condo. His baby girl is a doctor and now that she’s almost a year into her surgery residency, this condo is her graduation present finally coming to fruition. 

He looks down at his phone, opening the text thread he has with you. He’s been trying to give you space to study this week, telling himself each day that this isn’t what you signed up for but he can’t help himself, and when you responded with a selfie of yourself in your maid discreetly polo the other day he knew there was no way he’d be able to keep that pledge to himself anymore. Joel looks at the time, factoring in the time change, and your LSAT retake is in a few hours. His thumbs move on their own.

Good Morning. Good luck on your LSAT today.

He attaches a picture of the coffee he had that morning before hitting send. 

The waiter comes by to take their orders, Sarah’s French flowing from her lips as easily as she breathes, happily telling the waiter what both her and her dad will have. Joel mutters a ‘merci’ as the waiter nods. 

Thank you. That coffee looks a lot better than mine.

A selfie of you, all pink cheeked and smiling follows. A paper to go cup with a plastic lid in your hand beside your face. 

Were you running?

“How’s it going over there?” Joel says over his phone screen to Sarah, her focus is intent on the stack of papers in front of her. 

“Shh, I’m reading,” she says lightly as the waiter opens an expensive looking bottle of white wine and pours a little for her to try. After taking her small sip and nodding at the waiter she looks to her dad. “What? I thought we were celebrating!”

He shakes his head, laughing at his daughter as both of them look back at what they were doing.

Yes. I run most mornings. Gotta clear my head.

What’s bothering you, sweet girl?

You know, you calling me that has the same effect as me calling you Mister Miller.

Ok, we’ll just call each other by our names then.

Joel is so wrapped up in his little bubble with you that he doesn’t notice Sarah sitting back and watching him as she sips her wine.

That’s no fun, let’s come up with safe nicknames.

He feels the side of cheek tug up. She’s so fucking cute.

Alright, I’m calling you giggles

What am I, a rodeo clown?

Joel laughs silently to himself, not realizing that he’s sporting a full and cheesy ear to ear grin across his face. 

Fine - Freckles

Eww, that’s what the mean girls in high school used to call me

Well the hot, successful man who owns a sex club and supplies your orgasms finds your freckles incredibly sexy. What’s my safe nickname?

“Who are you texting?” Sarah says, her voice thick with amusement. 

Joel clicks his phone shut, laying it face down on the table. He wipes the smile off his face and looks up at Sarah like a child who just got caught stealing candy. “No one. Just work stuff.”

“Uh huh, sure dad. I know that smile. Did you meet someone?”

Joel grabs his wine, taking a larger drink then necessary. A drink of someone who’s lying. There’s no way he can tell his daughter about this. Sure, Sarah knows about the club but they never talk about what goes on there. “No! Of course not. I’m too busy for that.”

Her eyes blink to his phone as it vibrates on the table, but he keeps his attention on Sarah, his wine glass looking comically small in his large hand. “I’ll just ask uncle Tommy.”

“Funny story, he’s been removed from the family.” He deadpans.

“Tess will tell me then,” Sarah says, her and her dad both challenging each other jokingly.

“Who? Never heard of a Tess before,” Joel says, crossing his arms. 

Sarah laughs into her wine glass, “Ok dad. Look, I want you to meet someone, so don’t hold back on my account. Seriously, you’re a catch and have been alone for a long time.”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you, Sarah. Not yet at least.” His phone vibrates again and she cocks an eyebrow before going back to her papers.

Joel scoops up his phone to read your texts.

Huh, suddenly I’m over being bullied. Weird.  Oh, I have the peeerrrfect nickname for you!

Go on, Freckles…

Sweet Cheeks, cuz seriously Miller, dat ass. 

Daaaammmnn!

You’re treading on mighty thin ice, baby girl 

Joel, I have a serious question…

Go on?

Are your suit pants tailored TO your ass?!

Joel chokes on his wine, trying to stifle his laugh.

“Alright, who is she?”

“Fine. I met someone, but she’s really young, like younger than you, Sarah. And she’s leaving soon for law school so it’s just best if I don’t talk about it.”

Sarah smiles at her dad. “First of all, I don’t care if she’s younger than me, especially seeing you smile like that. Do you have any idea how many of the girls at college wanted you? You're my dad, so it’s gross to say, but you were the campus DILF.”

Joel feels himself blushing as she continues, “Second of all, you don’t have to end things just because of school. Me and Wyatt maintained our relationship while I was in New York and he was in Seattle.” As she wiggles the pear shaped diamond on her left hand the waiter brings out their food, and Joel changes the subject to the condo that he just bought for his incredible daughter. 

Our little girl did it, Tiff. Thank you for giving her to me, he thinks.

You

“That’s time, everyone,” The proctor calls from the front of the stuffy, windowless room that you and forty five other law school hopefuls have been in for just over three hours. 

You let out a slow breath, cheeks puffing and eyes fluttering closed. You didn’t finish, last time you finished, and the proctor has been eyeing you the entire time. He knows, he fucking knows you aren’t nearly as qualified or as smart as the rest of the people in this room. That line from Gilmore Girls, something about having shiny Harvard hair is all your anxiety can focus on. The people in this room have Havard hair, even the men. You don’t belong here.

You’ve never been in a lower spot and after the high of the flirty text conversation with Joel this morning you didn’t anything could get you down. In the span of just a few hours you’ve been completely torn apart, you can feel the panic attack clawing greedily at your chest. You fucking blew it, all of it. You blew your chances at law school, you blew your future as a lawyer and, in turn, your future as a judge. You’ll be cleaning houses forever, and not that there’s anything wrong with being a professional maid, but it’s not your goal.

Maybe I was fucking stupid for only having one goal. Maybe I need to do something else with my degree. Maybe my father was right, I’m nothing and I’ll always be nothing. Maybe my mother was right too, I’m the smartest girl at home but the world is going to chew me up and spit me out. It’s doing that right now, isn’t it? 

Your feet take you to the locker where your phone’s been locked up, and then out to your car. You don’t notice the warm late March air when you leave the testing building and there's a good chance that you jay walked, narrowly missing being hit by a car as you walked to the parking lot. Before turning the key in the ignition you open your phone, there’s a little red bubble on the JMK app. When you tap on it you have a new calendar section and Joel has invited you to the club tomorrow night. You stare down at it, waiting and hoping to feel something. That excited giddiness you usually feel, or the butterflies that typically erupt in your stomach, but nothing comes. You close out of the app without accepting the invite and drive home. 

A soft knock on your door pulls you from the anxiety-ridden nightmares you’ve been slipping in and out of. In the first one, you were having your degree taken away. In the second, you were sitting on the end of the bed in Joel’s private room looking out a window into the voyeur room. Joel was walking another woman around, similar to how he did with you the first time. The one that your roommate interrupted involved you being completely naked while trying to find your first class at Harvard.

“Babe?” Odette’s calm voice fills your room, “You ok?”

You tap your phone screen: 9 pm. You’ve been passed out all afternoon and evening. 

“Ya, just had a hard day.” You try to move out from the blankets, but they’re tangled around your limbs; a clear sign that you were restless in your sleep.

“Are you hungry? I ordered pizza. You have a few more college letters too, I think three were in the mailbox today.” Her voice is light and excited, as if she’s trying to pump you up. 

“Thanks, O. I’ll, umm, I’ll be out in a sec.”

The door shuts gently and the tears finally come. Five minutes, you tell yourself, before you start sobbing into your pillow to not alert Odette. After your allotted crying time is up, you open your phone. Messages from Jamie and Laren are left on read before you slide into the JMK app and accept Joel's request to meet at the club tomorrow night. You join Odette for a late dinner, but there’s no way you’re opening those letters tonight. 

Cap drops you off outside of the club the next night. This seems to be the officially unofficial routine of being Joel’s sub and you aren’t sure why. Cap confirmed last time that he didn’t do this for the other girls; you don’t deserve special treatment.

Any treatment, really, you think. Even the little box of feelings in your mind feels the same way, sulking sadly in the dark corner you banished it to. 

The black marble foyer feels cold and mocking tonight, even with the beautiful hostess smiling brightly and greeting you by name. As you turn towards the entrance to the club, a man dressed in an impeccable black suit holds his arm out for you. 

“Good evening, Miss. Joel asked me to escort you to his room tonight.”

You nod, forcing a smile and a thank you. All this black feels like he’s walking you to your own funeral. As you step into the club there are people everywhere. Couples are dancing, people are taking up the tables and the barstools. The deep bass of the music thumps through the club and the nagging pressure behind your right eye threatens to pop it right from its socket. 

The security guard holds his wrist to the pad on the door and holds it open for you.

“Thanks,” you say again through another fake smile. 

The door clicks behind you and the music dulls, the only light on this side of the door comes from the propped open door of Mister Miller’s room. You rap your knuckles lightly on the door frame and Joel steps into view. Your eyes travel from his shiny black dress shoes, up the perfectly tailored black dress pants and fitted white dress shirt. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, exposing the strong muscle lined forearms that usually drive you wild. You stand there, waiting and hoping to feel something, but just like in your car yesterday, nothing comes. Meanwhile, he’s smiling at you as if he’s just discovered the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 

“Hi, my sweet girl,” Joel’s voice usually coats you like warm molasses, especially when he calls you his. But the rejection letters feel like they have plastered themselves onto you, seemingly creating a hard shell, keeping that miserable gray fog from escaping. 

“Hi, Mister Miller,” you say obediently, hoping he doesn’t notice anything is wrong. 

He motions for you to come inside, and pulls you into his arms as the door quietly clicks shut behind you. You wrap yours around his waist subconsciously as he presses his lips to your forehead. You’re sure the two of you have embraced like this before but right now it feels foreign. “What’s wrong?”

Fuck.

“Nothing. I’m sorry, it’s just been a long few days. I’m sorry, I can go. I don’t want to drag you down.” Your hands fist his dress shirt, a silent cry for him to not let you leave as an annoying dry lump forms in your throat. 

“Hey, no. Don’t be sorry, baby girl.” His hands run long, slow lines up and down your back as he brings his forehead to meet yours.

The pounding of the music on the other side of the club fades away completely as his eyes melt into yours. It's absurd that you missed him, isn’t it? You are his submissive, nothing else. But when he looks at you the way he is now it’s hard to remember up from down. The pressure behind your eye dissipates as one of his hands cups the nape of your neck and squeezes gently. From the outside eye, you could almost argue that he’s acting as if he missed you too.

His voice is a soft whisper as he continues, “Did you want to talk about it?”

Maybe it’s his years of experience as a dom and taking care of his subs. Or maybe this is just normal for him, but you aren’t used to someone wanting to talk about it. You’re used to a quick hug and a shitty pep talk. His hands felt heavenly on your clothed body, but as they brush against the bare skin of your neck to cup your cheeks they’re out of this world. This strong, successful, handsome man is giving you his full attention, wants to give you his full attention, and as his nose runs down yours it finally happens. 

Your body is flooded with that familiar desire. Your breathing catches as you practically moan, “No, I need you to make me forget. Help me, Mister Miller. Please?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, exposing that dimple that makes him so damn endearing as he pulls his face back from yours. “I’m going to push you tonight, sweet girl.” He slides your faux leather jacket off, letting it hit the floor. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you say, your voice turning husky. 

His eyes dance around your features and with a single blink he switches. You don’t think you could ever describe it, but it’s like he puts on a mask. His soft brown eyes turn almost onyx, the muscles in his jaw seem flexed, but it’s his voice that really gives away when he’s transformed into his fully dominant form. Joel’s voice is deep yet has a soft aura. Mister Miller's voice on the other hand is full of gravel, and nothing is a suggestion. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Joel steps back, watching as you slip your bare feet out of your sandals. You felt underdressed tonight, but you just couldn’t convince yourself to put together an outfit. Your denim shorts and oversized black t-shirt come off easily and after stepping out of your shorts you look up at Mister Miller. His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he takes you in, eyes widening at your lack of bra and panties tonight.

“Dirty little girl.” He accentuates every word as his eyes travel a burning path up and down your exposed skin and then to the side of the room behind you. “See that pillow?”

You spin slowly, a black velvet pillow sits on the floor, handcuffs hanging above it from a chain connected to the ceiling. You look over your bare shoulder at Joel who simply juts his chin towards it in a silent command. As you walk towards the pillow, the metallic clink of his ring hitting the ceramic dish washes over you. Goosebumps spread across your skin and you feel the anxiety leaving your body. The doubt that has been screaming at you dulls to a barely-there whisper. For a second you feel weightless, floating towards the black pillow like the little styrofoam packing peanuts you used to place in rain run off as a kid.

‘No one has ever made you feel like this’. The little box of feelings says from the dark, ‘He’d take care of you, if you let him.’ You push that box deeper into the archives of your mind as you stop in front of the pillow.

Joel’s voice is deep, almost a menacing growl from behind you as he says, “Kneel.”

Your mind shuts off completely as you comply, dropping to your knees, facing the wall, and tucking your feet underneath you.

“Toes planted on the floor, sweet girl.” You adjust how you're sitting, exposing the soles of your feet to Joel as he walks towards you, his expensive dress shoes clicking slightly on the hardwood. You can feel the heat of his body as he stops just inches from your bare skin. “Good. Hands up.”

His touch is gentle as he places the cuffs around your wrists. “What’s your safeword?”

“Stegosaurus,” you say softly.

“Louder!” He barks.

You jump slightly before saying it again with confidence, “Stegosaurus.”

Joel takes a small step towards the wall and tugs the other end of the chain to pull it tighter, stretching your arms up above your head. You’re almost lifted off your knees. A small piece of leather running up and down your spine and your breathing starts to speed up. The anticipation of what’s to come almost has you bursting at the seams.

“This is a riding crop. You said you’re interested in impact play, as well as paddles, whips and crops. Is that correct?”

You nod, your throat going dry and voice cracking as you say, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

“How’d your LSAT go, baby?”

“I…I th-think I failed,” you murmur.

A sharp snapping sound fills the room, quickly followed by red hot pain on your right ass cheek; you gasp at the sensation.

The soft leather goes back to tracing your spine, slowly up and down, almost feather light and ticklish. “Again, how did your LSAT go?”

“I’m sorry, Mister Miller. But,” your try to swallow the dry lump in your throat. “I think I failed.”

As if he’s had years of sniper training, he strikes you in the exact same spot. This time your body jerks, the chains rattling above you as you cry out. However, the heat of this strike spreads right to your clit, and your cry morphs into a whine of pleasure.

“Sweet girl, do you belong to me?” He trails the leather along your hip, slowly teasing up your side.

“Y-Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect?” The soft end of the crop continues its trail, over the side of your breast and to your armpit.

“No.” You whisper. 

I can’t do this, he’s going to ask me to say I’m perfect and I can’t do it. 

“I don’t appreciate you talking bad about something I own.” A strike lands on the sole of your left foot, you hadn’t even realized the crop had moved from your arm. He taps the foot again, lighter this time but the pain from the first strike hasn’t ceased, a strangled cry passes your lips. “Especially when what you’re talking about is yourself.”

Another strike hits your right ass cheek and the red hot stings of it causes you to shoot up onto your knees. The chains above you rattle and go slack. Joel makes a noise similar to a growl behind you before two quick snaps land on the back of both of your thighs. “Kneel, sweet girl.”

You’re shocked by the moans and gasps that are filling the room, sounds that are unconsciously coming from your own mouth. Your pussy is throbbing and as you settle back onto your heels you realize how wet you are. You didn’t think you’d like this this much. 

“You need to learn how to stay still without being tied down.”

“Sorry, Mister Miller,” you whine through the panting breaths you’re taking. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, striking your left cheek and then gently rubbing along your ass. “How did your LSAT go?”

“I…It…I don’t know,” you say defeatedly.

He hits the sole of your left foot again, then your right ass cheek and this time your body acts on its own, your hips tilting to push your ass out towards Joel, a needy moan filling the room. “Come on, baby girl. Use your words.”

“It was harder then I remember,” you hum, your body practically vibrating with need. God, you can’t believe how good this feels.

The crop makes a slow line from the top of your ass, up your spine again and you tense up, sucking in a big breath. “Relax, my sweet girl. Until we talk about it, I will never strike you anywhere above the waist.”

“In fact,” he continues. “Anywhere here,” he draws a big circle along your entire lower back, “Should never, ever, be hit.”

“Ok, th-thank you.” You sink onto your heels again, your inner thighs are almost slippery with how turned on you are. 

Joel laughs lightly, “You’re welcome. So, it was harder than you remember?”

“Y-yes. I think I failed, Joel.” As soon you say it, you know you’ve fucked up. Eight quick, sharp snaps of the crop hit; two on each ass cheek and two on each foot, all at random. It’s over faster than you can apologize, and the walls of your pussy spasm with each crack of leather on skin. “Sorry, Mister Mill, hnng, M-Miller.”

Your head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as he speaks. “Again, it was harder than you remember?”

You whine before whispering, “Yes, but I tried my hardest.”

“Up,” Joel commands, pulling the chain so you’re up on your knees. “Good girl. Spread your legs.”

He bends down behind you, the heat of his broad upper body warming your back. His strong hands grip your waist to steady you as you walk your knees out. “That’s it, good job sweet girl.”

His praise shifts everything. Sure, maybe you failed, but you are stronger than a little test. You are bigger than law school. If you don’t get in, you’ll try again and you’ll keep on trying, because you can do anything. A bright light shines on the little box of feelings.

The crop lightly tapping your inner thigh brings your back to the moment. “Please, Mister Miller.”

“You don’t have to ask, sweet girl. If this is enough to make you come then let go for me.” He whispers, trailing the leather of the crop up your thigh before trailing down the other.

“I need you to touch me,” you whine, letting your head fall forward. 

“Aww, poor baby,” he mocks before bringing the little leather square between your legs and taps lightly against your swollen clit.

“Oh god, oh god, don’t stop,” you moan.

“Yea? My perfect sweet girl gonna come?”

“Yes,” you cry, head now falling back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

"Tell me,” he commands, stopping the tapping and just letting the soft leather rest against you, “Tell me you're perfect.”

“No, please,” you murmur.

“Tell me you’re perfect and you can come, sweet girl.” The crop is barely touching you now. 

“I’m perfect,” you whine.

He smacks your clit harder once, twice and with the third snap of the crop you fall over the edge. The chains rattle as pleasure consumes you. Your orgasm rolls through you so hard and all you can do is take it. You moan loudly and your legs start to give out beneath you, the handcuffs and chain above you the only thing holding you up.

Joel

Fuck, she looks absolutely stunning when she finally submits. My beautiful, broken girl. She’s so smart, so driven, always pushing, pushing, pushing. Always taking care of everyone else. I wish she’d just let go, let me take care of her. 

As you slump forward he drops the riding crop, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you up, as he undoes the cuffs. You go completely boneless in his arms, your back pressed to his front, his soft lips peppering kisses along the top of your glistening shoulder. “You did so well, sweetheart. God, you’re so beautiful.”

He supports your weakened body, lowering you to the floor and rolling you onto your back. He pushes the hair that’s stuck to your sweat soaked forehead back. The soft and mischievous smile across your face is exactly what he was hoping for; you’re not ready to be done yet and luckily, neither is he. 

“I’m not done with you,” he whispers, gravel in his throat, before kissing your forehead.

Joel stands and takes a few long strides across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He can feel your eyes glued to him as he walks away. After your joke about his pants he picked a pair that's extra snug, just for you. He’s never picked an outfit for a sub before, and this just further proves that even if he’s not ready to fully admit it to himself yet, you are so much more than just a sub. 

“Sweet girl, come here.” He pats his thigh. As you sit up he says, “No, I want you to crawl to me.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing, and his heart nearly flutters right out of his fucking chest as you say, “What?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. He wants to wrap you in his arms and praise you, but you’re responding so well to him being mean and he knows you need him to keep going. “I said to fucking crawl.”

When you get on your hands and knees, his cock swells to its full potential, pushing painfully behind the zipper of his dress pants. He begins memorizing every inch of your glistening skin and the lust-filled expression on your face as you move so beautifully across the room. 

“Like this, Mister Miller?” You ask innocently, wetting your lips and effectively ruining his life at the same time. 

“Just like that, my sweet girl,” he praises, sitting back up and patting his thigh as he adds, “All the way, then rest your head right here.”

You finally reach him, settling yourself in a kneeling position again and laying your head on his lap, big eyes looking up at him sweetly. His short nails scrape along your scalp as his fingers card through your hair and butterflies fill his stomach as you melt into his touch. “You look so pretty like this. So sweet and submissive. I’m a bad man for the thoughts I have about you when you’re like this.”

You hum quietly, eyelashes hitting your cheeks as your eyes flutter closed. You’re fully at his mercy, trusting him to do what he thinks is best. It’s not a role he takes lightly, not like when he was younger. If this was fifteen years ago you still be handcuffed to that ceiling as he fucked you, but after breaking a lot of hearts he’s reformed his ways. No sex, that’s the rule, as badly as he’d love to sink into your tight, wet heat, you’re trusting him to keep you safe. 

A sense of calm and comfort washes over him as he continues to massage at your scalp, and he smiles to himself as your body gets heavier between his spread thighs. There’s lots of things he likes about you, but the thing he loves the most is how he never knows what’s going to come out of your mouth next. And you prove that when your eyes flutter open and you confidently say, “I want to suck your cock.”

“Fuck, baby. Gonna give me a heart attack sayin’ shit like that outta the blue.”

Your perfect pink lips curl up into a shy smile, his hand moving from your hair so he can brush his knuckles lightly down your cheek. “S’ that what you want? To suck on my cock?”

Your head comes off his lap as you nod up at him. “Yes, Mister Miller. Please?”

“You know that you don’t have to do that. Right? I don’t do this for orgasms, it’s about so much more than that for me.” He asks softly, knuckles trailing your jaw. 

“I know, it’s more than that for me too, but I want to.”

The two of you look at one another for a while, eyes dancing along each other's faces. His voice comes out thick and full of sand, “Take it out.” 

He sits back, resting his hands on the bed behind him as your hands go to his belt, quickly undoing the buckle and then opening his pants. His thick cock springs free as you pull down his soft black boxers, the tip already leaking a bead of milky precome. As you eagerly press the flat of your tongue to the tip, he stifles a moan and watches as your eyes widen. He knows that look, it’s the same look every other man and woman has when they see it for the first time. Joel’s never been with someone of the same sex, but on the rare times he’s shared a sub with another man they have the same expression too.

“You have a piercing,” you say, curiosity thick in your voice, eyes glued to the nickel sized silver hoop that sits at the very bottom of his pelvis, the bottom of the hoop sitting just above the base of his cock.

“Yes,” he confirms, watching the questions about the unusual placement of it run behind your inquisitive eyes. 

Your hand is wrapped around the base of his cock now, your pinky grazing the shiny metal, and his hands fist the sheets behind him to stop himself from grabbing you. “I didn’t know that was a place people pierced.”

He smirks. “Welcome to the wonderful world of kink, sweet girl.” 

He got the piercing shortly after he began his journey to become a dom. In certain positions it can be very beneficial for his partner, and even though he’s vowed over and over again to himself that he’s not going to cross that line with you, he can’t help but imagine your perfect face as you find out exactly what it can do. A little piece of metal that would stimulate your clit as he fucks you.

Your soft pink tongue wets your lips before you begin to suckle on the sensitive rosy pink tip of his cock. His lips part with a quiet sigh. The entire tip of his cock slips into your mouth and his hands clench harder at the fluffy white sheets, desperately trying to let you explore him when all he wants to do is wrap your silky hair around his hands and hear what you sound like when you gag. His efforts double as you hum and then swirl your tongue around the leaking tip, big doe eyes looking up at him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whimpers. “Do that again.” You smile up at him sweetly and his heart starts to thunder behind his ribs. This isn’t a good idea. He should just focus on you, he gets off on that too, just in a much different way. 

Submissives come to him for many different reasons but he’s a dominant for one reason only. From the minute Tiffany passed, Joel has been responsible for everything. From raising Sarah, to bailing out Tommy whenever he got in trouble. Not to mention his construction job, which eventually led to being a business owner. Everyone needed everything from Joel. He had to pivot plans or multitask, nothing ever went as planned; but when he’s Mister Miller it goes exactly how he wants it to. He can say no, he can make them beg or say please, he plans what happens and it goes just how it’s supposed to. For a man who is supposed to be “the boss”, he only feels in control when he’s playing the role of dominant. 

And then came you. This beautiful little ray of light. From that first gasp and wide eyed stare in his office he had a feeling about you. And then everything that came out of your mouth took him by surprise. And right now, how good your mouth feels has him even more surprised. 

You haven’t looked away as you’ve worked more of him down your throat, your hand moves in tandem with your mouth, and your tongue flicks against the ridge along the bottom of the tip each time. 

“Feels s’good, sweet girl.” One of his hands moves on its own, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You can take more though. Come on. Be a good girl and take it all.” 

A small humming giggle vibrates along his length as you work more of him into your mouth and he can’t fight it anymore. Both his hands come to your hair, pushing it back as he wraps the soft strands around his fingers and grips tightly, guiding you down and holding you as low as he can get you before you gag. “Good fuckin’ girl. Jus’ like that.” 

You

Joel’s salty precum is like a drug. You want it. Need it. And know you’re going to crave it forever. He’s been mean tonight, something you haven’t really seen from him, but it was exactly what had to happen to get your head back on straight. You needed a harsh hand to snap you out of the dark looming cloud that’s been threatening to swallow you whole. 

You’ve probably always suffered from depression or high-functioning anxiety, not that your parents would have noticed or said anything. And even if they had, they wouldn’t have gotten their braggable daughter diagnosed. God forbid you weren’t something for them to hold over their friends’ heads.  

Joel’s hands tighten in your hair as he starts to take over. He let you taste him, let you get his cock nice and sloppy with your saliva. He looked down at you softly while you started, but now he’s back to full dominance. Full Mister Miller. 

He pushes you down onto his cock, the tip just kissing against your gag reflex. Your scalp burns under his strong fingers and you can feel yourself submitting. Everything goes quiet: your limbs feel heavy yet ready to move or adjust as he commands, the sides of your vision darken, and the only thing that matters now is him. His wishes. His desires. His commands.

He pulls you off of him, and you gasp in air, a string of your spit landing on your chin, your eyes watering. “You snap if you need me to stop, got it?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Miller,” you say hoarsely. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

“Open,” he says growls.

You do as he says, opening your mouth wide while looking into his dark obsidian eyes. You can see his cheeks and tongue working behind his closed lips before he spits into your mouth. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” he rasps and then roughly guides you back onto his cock. He doesn’t take his time or stop at that point of resistance this time. No, this time he pushes you further than you’ve ever been. The cool metal of the ring on his pelvis touches your nose. The juxtaposition of his hard cock meeting your soft mouth and his cold piercing meeting your warm face is staggering, yet comforting.  

“Breathe through your nose,” he instructs. 

You switch your focus, sucking air in through your nostrils slowly. “That’s it, sweet girl. Relax.”

You let your body sink again into his muscled lined thighs. He starts to move you up his cock. He gets about halfway before he forces you down again. You gag as he hits the back of your throat, shocking yourself when the gag ends in a moan and your pussy starts to weep for him. In fact, almost everywhere is weeping for him. Salvia drips from your lips and onto his lap, tears run down face. 

You’re a mess.

‘His mess’, says that annoying little box in the corner of your mind which now has ‘Mister Miller’ written across it in loopy cursive handwriting, the dots of the i’s little bedazzled hearts. 

Joel uses your hair to pull you up to the tip and you gasp in a few breaths before he starts moving you up and down his now obscenely wet and fully erect cock. Your jaw aches with how wide you need to open your mouth to fit him. Your fingertips just met around the tapered base earlier. You’ve never looked at man’s cock before and thought much, but Joel’s might be enough to ruin your life.  

 “Fuck, this mouth. Feels s’ fuckin’ good. Look at you, takin’ it so well. You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, although it’s muffled around his cock. He pulls you off fully, releasing his grips from your hair. You sit back on your heels, his eyes raking over your body, pausing to watch your heaving chest; a mixture of needing to catch your breath and being insanely turned on. You don’t take your eyes off his face.

“Stay.” Joel’s voice is deep enough that you feel it reverberate through you. You lick your lips, swallowing down the taste of him that you’ve become addicted to and place your hands on your lap. 

One of his hands comes up to his mouth and he spits into his own palm before bringing it down to fist his cock. Your eyes flick down to watch as he pumps himself slowly. “You have me doin’ shit that I didn’t plan, sweet girl. I give in to you, let you take the reins. But I’m in charge here.”

He pumps faster, and you fight to stay where you’re supposed to. “You need to remember that, so you don’t get to be the one to make me come today, you don’t get to feel it or taste it. No, you’re going to sit there, like a good little obedient submissive, and watch.”

You whimper, your right hand moving on its own to between your thighs. 

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself. Keep your hands on your lap.” His voice is strained as the movement of his hand becomes less fluid. His free hand comes to his balls, massaging them lightly and you try to commit the sight of him like this to memory. Tall, wide, and commanding, yet falling apart as he looks at your naked and kneeling form in front of him.

“Mister Miller?” You ask, your voice small and cracking, the back of your throat raw from the way he fucked your mouth. “I’m so wet. Please, can I just touch for a little bit?”

His mouth falls open, pleasure etched across his features, his focus never leaving you. “Show me how wet you are. Spread your legs for me.”

You raise off your heels slightly and slide your knees apart, exposing your wet and swollen cunt to him. Then you lean back, hands resting on the floor behind you, tilting your hips up so he can see all of you. 

“Good girl. So fuckin’ pretty,” he moans and then you watch as white ropes of cum spill over his hand. Your name passes his lips in a groan as he comes simply from the sight of your pussy. His hand stills and you lock eyes. You should feel shy like this, but instead you smile at him, a mischievous giggle bubbling up your chest as you bite down on your bottom lip.

His head nods towards the small dresser by the door, the one with the ceramic dish where his ring is on top. “Bring me a small towel from the top drawer and then get on the bed.” 

You saunter to the dresser, trying your hardest not to look too eager, and then back towards him with a small fluffy white hand towel. He takes it from you and cleans himself up as you lay on the bed. He stuffs his softening cock into his boxers and then removes his pants and shirt. If you thought you were turned on before, it’s nothing to how you feel now seeing him almost naked in front of you. 

That whole looking like you’re carved from stone gene is strong with the Millers, you think, watching the muscles behind his toned skin flex beneath his tanned skin as he climbs onto the bed. He grabs you by the ankle and pulls you to the end of the bed, a squeal leaving your lips. You had almost forgotten about the riding crop welts, but the friction against the sheets has them burning slightly and you wince as the heat settles. 

“I’ll fix those sore spots, but first I need to taste you. Is that ok?”

You spread your legs wide for him, “Y-Yes. I need you, Mister Miller.”

“Tell me what you need,” he hums, settling himself between your legs. 

“What you said,” shyness seems to have finally caught up to you, although you aren’t sure why.

He raises a thick dark eyebrow at you. “Ask for it, tell me how you like it.” He nods at you encouragingly as you take a few breaths. “Come on, my sweet girl. You can do it.”

My sweet girl, you melt. That fucking bedazzled box of feelings is fully in the spotlight now. He has years of experience in this role, but you can’t be imagining it. Looking at someone the way he’s looking at you now isn’t something that someone can fake. You can’t be the only one to feel whatever this invisible teether is between the two of you.

“I like fingers curled inside while the tip of your tongue flicks at my clit. I like suction too.” The pride in Joel’s face is almost overwhelming as he listens. God, he’s beautiful. 

He hums slightly, readjusting himself between your spread thighs. “My pretty girl gets what she wants,” he whispers before using the tip of his tongue to gently work at the soft folds of your cunt, working his way from your tight entrance to your clit. 

Your body jerks when he reaches your most sensitive part and you can’t stop the salacious moan that fills the room. “Oh god, Mister Miller.” 

He runs his tongue in slow, teasing circles around your clit. Not with enough pressure to actually make you orgasm, just enough to taunt you, and your entire body breaks out in goosebumps and a thin sheen of sweat at the same time. He slides his right arm under your leg, hooking his elbow under your thigh and reaches his hand up and over towards your pussy. His thick pointer finger and thumb easily slip to each side of your puffy clit. Just as you’re about to float off into another dimension he pinches hard. You scream out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, your back arching off the mattress. 

He holds your clit in his fingers, easing up the pinch to tease at it with his tongue again while he works the middle finger of his other hand inside of you. 

“You’re so tight,” he hums between licks. “Gotta relax for me. Let me into this tight little cunt.” 

You whimper at the push of his finger inside of you. One of his fingers is easily one and half of yours, and if he’s having a hard time getting just one of them in, you can’t imagine how it will feel to have two. 

“Eyes on me, sweet girl,” he rasps, releasing your clit from his fingers. His strong hand presses lightly on your mound. “You’re safe here, baby. Open up for me.” 

As always, you follow exactly what your dom says. Craning your neck slightly and opening your eyes to lock your gaze with his. The honey flecks in his dark brown irises warm your skin and as your body relaxes he smiles up at you. You feel Joel’s finger slide the rest of the way in with minimal resistance and it sends a wave of pleasure from your core to your toes.  

“There’s my perfect sweet girl.” He groans as you let out a euphoric whimper. And then he’s back on you. Soft lips pressing to your wet heat, the flat of his large tongue circling your clit. 

Your head falls back to the mattress, “Fuckfuckfuck. Oh god!” 

Your orgasm is embarrassingly close. Joel is hitting almost all the spots you love. No man has gotten you to the edge this quickly. Just as that tingle at the base of your spine starts to spread he curls his finger forward and sucks your clit into your mouth. 

“Mis…hnnng…fuck. I’m - I'm gonna.” You can barely think outside of the pleasure, nevermind form a sentence. 

A second finger slips inside of you, “Give it to me, sweet girl. Show me what I do to you.” 

Your orgasm hits you like an earthquake, making you shake harder than you ever have. The walls of your pussy clench hard on his strong fingers. His mouth is back on your clit, sucking it between his soft, warm lips. The lewd sounds of his sucking mix with your cries of pleasure. Joel is ruthless, never stopping as you absolutely crumble underneath his touch. Another strong wave of your orgasm rushes through you when he curls his fingers forward again, pressing right on your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, fuuuck Mister Miller.” You whine.

He slows the motion of his tongue as the convulsions of your body slow, working you through the aftershocks of your earth shattering orgasm. 

“Good girl,” he whispers before placing a light kiss to your spent clit and slowly slips his fingers out of you. As your gazes lock he licks your arousal off his fingers and then rolls you onto your stomach. You hear him suck in a breath through his teeth when he sees the aftermath of his riding crop punishment earlier. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. Just stay on your stomach for me.”

His lips press to your shoulder blade as the mattress baubles under his weight leaving the bed. You glance over at him, watching his broad, tanned back as he grabs a few items. He spins to face you, coconut oil in one hand and an orange juice and a bottle of water in the other. He places the drinks on the bedside table then scoops a bit of coconut oil onto his fingers. 

You wince as he makes contact with your right cheek, “Ouch, Mister Miller.”

“I know. This will help, and hopefully you learned your lesson about talking badly about what belongs to me.” His voice is sweet yet serious and he moves onto the other cheek, then the back of your thighs before his hand wraps around your right ankle, guiding you to bend your knee so he can look at the sole of your foot. 

He places a light kiss on the light pink spot and you giggle, “Your beard tickles.”

He laughs and does the same thing to the other foot before lining his body up with yours and pulling you in to be his little spoon. “How are you feeling, sweet girl?”

“Mmmm,” you hum, sinking back into his warmth. “Much better. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he holds you tighter, biceps flexing around your body like a ring of muscled safety. You're both quiet for a few minutes before he breaks it. “You kinda scared me tonight if I’m being honest.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, hiding your face in the arm he has under your head.

“No, don’t be. I’ve always been good at reading people, it’s probably more of a curse than a gift, but I just - I could feel that you weren’t in a good space when you got here.”

“Ya,” you agree.

“I know I can’t fix it, it’s not my place, but I hope I at least helped.”

You fixed it.

“You did help. I feel much better. Plus,” you turn to face him, both of you using one of your own arms to support your heads and your other arms wrapping around the other person. “Plus, you were right. I am smart. I can do this. I need to not be so hard on myself.”

Joel smiles sweetly, straight white teeth shining at you. 

“If I can be spanked with a riding crop while handcuffed, fuck, I can be aaaanything.”

You and Joel laugh together and it all feels so natural. Maybe too natural. There’s something comfortable and familiar about him. It might be that southern hospitality, but in all the years you’ve been in Texas you’ve never felt this content with someone else. 

“Mister Miller?” you say as the laughter subsides.

“You can call me Joel now,” his eyes widen just for a fraction of a second after it leaves his lips, almost as if he didn’t intend for it to come out before adding, “The scene is over.”

“Ah, so you’re saying this is a safe nickname zone now?” His smile makes your stomach flip.

“Careful, freckles.” He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You give him a closed lipped smile, “Hey, if you’re gonna use it then so am I, sweet cheeks. Don’t think I didn’t notice the extra tight pants tonight.”

He shrugs a strong shoulder to his ear as you continue. “So, if you don’t sleep with your subs, why the piercing?”

He takes one big breath and licks his lips before he starts, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. “I got it a long time ago, I wasn’t always as strict with my rules. I’m not proud of it, I broke a lot of hearts when I first started this whole thing. I haven’t taken it out because…well, I don’t really know. I guess because when I do finally reach that point with a partner I want them to experience the benefits.”

Always the giver, you think. 

“Can you have a traditional partner while living this lifestyle?” You immediately begin to back track, realizing that you don’t want to seem like you’re getting attached. “Not you in particular. What you do outside of this room isn’t my business. I just mean like, are there doms that have subs that are married? Again, not you.”

He stares at you as you continue to ramble. “That whole thing came out wrong.”

“Relax, freckles, I knew what you meant. You’re kinda cute when you get all flustered and start to ramble though.”

The lid of the now pink painted box of feelings in your mind lifts a little. It seems to have gained an entire personality, and has the voice of Mrs. Potts from Beauty and The Beast as it says, ‘oh he definitely feels that tether too.’ 

“To answer your question,” his voice pulls you out of your own mind, “There are doms that do this professionally. I did have paying subs at one point myself and had a fairly serious girlfriend.”

Jealousy churns in your stomach. It’s irrational and you really hope it isn’t whoever Tess is. 

“But,” he continues, “It’s a tricky situation and involves a lot of trust and communication. Probably more than a sub-dom dynamic. But, yes, I’ve seen lots of happily married people who live and explore the kink lifestyle.”

You shiver slightly and he pulls you in closer, tucking your head into his chest, inhaling that ash, leather and natural Joel musk. His hand runs up and down your naked back, the calluses on his fingers scratching slightly. 

His body tenses, almost as if he’s nervous before he speaks. “Did you want to come to a Shibari class with me this week? We are hosting a demonstration at the club on Wednesday.”  

You glance up at him, “I’d really like that, Joel.”

He tucks your head back into his chest. His lips press to the crown of your head at the same time that yours meet the soft skin of his sternum. “It’s a date.”

Part Two

[dcxdpdabbles]

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my godd!!! I just read your Jason's Doll fic and I am cackling!! oh I just adore it! much love to you and your work!!❤️🩷💝

A smear article suddenly surfaces, targeting Jason. More precisely, a paparazzi, with no regard for decency, captures a moment of Jason having tea with Danny.

In a cruel twist, the article's wording ridicules Jason for still engaging in tea parties with dolls, insinuating that his lost time may have inflicted more damage than Bruce is willing to acknowledge publicly.

It wouldn't have been so bad if not for what followed after the taunts. People on the internet, hiding behind their usernames and accounts, started spreading rumors that Jason was either gaining brain damage or that he preferred children.

In the same way that people once accused Bruce of when news of him taking in a young boy broke.

As if though it wasn't a child that had watched his parents die before him.

It is disgusting. It's cruel.

Yes, he knew that it was haunted by whatever Danny was (Jason still insists that his friend is an alien of some kind), but that didn't mean he couldn't be a regular doll.

It fills Tim with hate for the people who think they can use brain damage as an insult and for the people who would accuse Jason of such a horrid crime for something as simple as a doll.

There was nothing wrong with Jason just wanting a doll. How dare they?

Despite Babs' swift actions to track down and expose every post, the relentless chatter continues. Once unleashed, the public's judgment proves difficult to contain.

Jason claims he doesn't care. He moves his tea time closer to the gate, sets up a reading nook underneath the big tree, and builds Danny his swing.

The soft clicking of cameras becomes so common around the Wayne property that Bruce has to "hire" Matches Malone to keep them away.

Matches take great pleasure turning a hose on the screaming people, laughing whenever they threaten to report him for assault as if Bruce couldn't buy out an entire law firm.

Tim has to deal with people's whispers whenever he goes to work. He knows they are talking about his older brother, that they stare at him, even if they look away when he glances back, and he refuses to buckle under their stupidity.

Jason has had a rough few years; the fact that Danny kept him sane is all that matters to him.

Yes, there are times when Tim is fifty percent sure that Danny is made from pure Fear Gas, but that doesn't mean he will let people bad-mouth him. Tim keeps his head held high, staring down at anyone who makes eye contact with him, and mentally plans their downfall.

His impeccable composure takes Tim through his whole day, treating the article like a gossip rag desperate for a story.

He would have finished strong were it not for the scream that is ripped from his throat the moment he walks into his office. Danny is there, sitting on his desk, a little hand resting on the open screen of his computer- one that Tim knows he had locked when he stepped away for his meeting- displaying the original article.

The part that made him scream wasn't the sight of Danny; he'd gotten used to seeing that little toy around the manor. What made him scream was the fact that he could tell Danny was angry.

In every single interaction Tim had with his brother's not-boyfriend, he could tell the other found it funny that he managed to scare someone. It was never his intention to be frightening, but now? Now, he was.

And Tim was downright horrified to know that Danny wanted him to fix it. He didn't need to understand the harsh, fast-paced whispers flowing through the room, though it did mean that the people who crowded the hall after hearing him scream quickly figured out why. A few had even stuck themselves with a needle, applying the anti-fear Toxin that most of the wealthier citizens of Gotham carried.

The others ran away, panicked, and Tim was left standing like a moron as the whispering grew louder and louder until suddenly, in a bright flash of two glowing rings, there was a man sitting on his desk.

A very familiar, pretty man but colored incorrectly.

"-don't know what the hell they are talking about!" Danny sneers voiced raised in a clear harsh volume. "I have half the mind to show them a real story. Maybe a few new bodies floating down the river will make them understand."

"Danny…."

"Or I can help Red Hood find them. I'm sure they don't need-"

"Danny!" Tim shouts, unable to handle the pressure of fear in the air, the realization that maybe Jason was right and he was a form of alien, or the fact that all of his "loyal" employees had left him here to die beside his PA. Tam was unconscious; she had buckled under the fear, but she was here in spirit.

Green glowing eyes swung to him, burning with rage. "What!?"

"You… you have a body." He sputtered, and those green eyes lost a bit of their shine as they blinked slowly. Danny carefully reached up to his face's features, touching them gently, as if he was not used them.

And maybe he wasn't. Danny had been Jason's doll for nearly a decade. He has likely been porcelain that entire time and forgotten what it was like to be corporal.

"Oh. I'm Phantom." Danny mutters before his eyes snap back towards him and- another flash. Another set of rings is made of bright lights, and the doll returns colors reversed.

Tim collapsed to his knees, gasping desperately for air, and Danny sat on his desk without a hint of ever being anything but fabric. They stare at each other momentarily, and Tim feels like Danny is just as bewildered as him until he clears his throat and lifts himself to stand.

His knees shake a bit, but Tim ignores them with practiced ease. "Right. So we must get back at those jerks for what they say about Jason."

[factual-fantasy]

About your Welcome Home AU…

Do you have any intentions to draw Julie’s true form? If it’s not too much. (If not, can I ask for a drawing of a wholesome hug between Julie and Frank?)

Also, does anyone else know that Home is… alive? Was Home there the whole time before Wally started to live in the house?

Or does it just… appear?

I was originally going to bundle this ask up with this post here due to the Julie questions.. but the second question about Home really got me thinking.. :00 I ended up brainstorming all night and came up with some kind of mysterious backstory for Home :))

I was thinking that Poppy was the very first neighbor that moved into the neighborhood. Her family bought a plot of land and built a barn when Poppy was very young.

Nearby their property, on an abandoned lot.. was this dilapidated little house..

No one knows who built it, how long its been there or who it belongs to now. Judging by the peeling paint and brambles engulfing the backyard.. it must have been there for a while. But the building style of the house doesn't look too old.. strange..

Growing up nearby this old house gave Poppy the creeps. She would always make sure to close the curtains of her bedroom window so she couldn't see the house..

Years would go by and Barnaby would come along and buy a plot nearby and build his house. Then sometime after that, our good friend Wally bought the manky old house, completely restored it and moved in.

After Home got a make over, Poppy felt a lot better about it and didn't feel the need to keep her curtains closed to avoid it.

It seems like what made the house so creepy to her was the fact it was so dead and empty.. pitch black on the inside, weeds engulfing the property.. it would give anyone the spooks..

But now that the house was all cleaned up, glowing with life and surrounded by flowers? AND it had a delightful friend of hers living there? It looked more inviting than ever. Thankfully she wasn't scared of the cute little house anymore. :)

...

...

Though she should have been.

[infiniteglitterfall]

I do realize this is a real niche post but I cannot tell you how many damn times over the past 10 months I've seen gentiles tell Jews some version of, "Your own holy book SAYS God doesn't want you to have a country yet!"

And it's such an incredibly blatant and weirdly specific tell that they're not part of something that grew from progressive grassroots, but something based on right-wing astroturfing.

1. Staying in your own lane is a pretty huge progressive principle.

Telling people in another group that their deity said they couldn't do X is, I think, as far as you can get from your own lane.

2. It's also very clearly Not In Your Own Lane because I've never seen anyone actually be able to EITHER quote the passage they're thinking of, OR cite where it is.

It's purely, "I saw somebody else say this, and it seemed like it would make me win the debate I wasn't invited to."

3. It betrays a complete ignorance of Jewish culture and history.

Seriously? You don't know what you're referencing, its context, or even what it specifically says, but you're... coming to a community that reads and often discusses the entire Torah together each year, at weekly services... who have massive books holding generations of debate about it that it takes 7 years to read, at one page per day....

And saying, "YOUR book told you not to!"

I've been to services where we discussed just one word from the reading the whole time. The etymology. The connotations. The use of it in this passage versus in other passages.

And then there is the famous saying, "Ask two Jews, get three opinions." There is a culture of questioning and discussion and debate throughout Judaism.

You think maybe, in the decades and decades of public discussion about whether to buy land in Eretz Yisrael and move back there; whether it should keep being an individual thing, or keep shifting to intentional community projects; what the risks were; whether it should really be in Argentina or Canada or someplace instead; how this would be received by the Jews and gentiles already there, how to respect their boundaries, how to work with them before and during; and whether ending up with a fuckton of Jews in one place might not be exactly as dangerous for them as it had always been everywhere else....

You think NOBODY brought up anything scriptural? Nobody looked through the Torah, the Nevi'im, the Ketuvim, or the Talmud for any thoughts about any of this?? It took 200 years and some rando in the comments to blow everyone's minds???

4. It relies on an unspoken assumption that people can and should take very literal readings of religious texts and use them to control others.

And a sense of ownership and power over those texts, even without any accompanying knowledge about what they say.

It's kind of a supercessionist know-it-all vibe. It reads like, "I know what you should be doing. Because even if I'm not personally part of a fundamentalist branch of a related religion, the culture I'm rooted in is."

Bonus version I found when I was looking for an example. NOBODY should do this:

There are a lot of people who pull weird historical claims like "It SAYS Abraham came from Chaldea! That's Iraq!"

Like, first of all, a group is indigenous to a land if it arose as a people and culture there, before (not because of) colonization.

People aren't spontaneously spawning in groups, like "Boom! A new indigenous people just spawned!!"

People come from places. They go places. Sometimes, they gel as a new community and culture. Sometimes, they bop around for a while and eventually assimilate into another group.

Second: THE TORAH IS NOT A HISTORY TEXTBOOK OMFG.

It's an oral history, largely written centuries after the fact.

There is a TON of historical and archaeological research on when and where the Jewish culture originated, how it developed over time, etc. It's extremely well-established.

Nobody has to try to pull what they remember from Sunday school for this argument.