#also my caveman brain with you in class

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

All I am doing is jabbering on about nothing

When the time comes (time time no such thing as time) I will have my .357 ringing and cracking my .44 magnum

Well. I don't like the sound of some of these assholes who think they should control the gates. I don't care what ring they are on. I will find them and commit genocide on them.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.2k

chapter summary: Summer break is finally here, meaning it's time to pick the annual vacation spot for the Miller's, only this time you also have a say in where to go. Later that night Joel makes you a promise.

warnings: none, just some fluff and family dynamics, mention of parent abandonment (sarah's mom leaving), mention of an unplanned pregnancy (again, sarah's mom)

a/n: yes there is a modern family reference in this. a heavy one at that because that show has been engraved in my brain from rewatching it over and over this year

special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on and to all the lovely readers who continue on joining in for the ride. ily all xx

Chapter Twelve || Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t understand. Sarah never in her life hurt anythin’. She hates it when I watch action movies and always calls me a caveman for it. How the hell is she gettin’ into a fight with some girl?”

He’s spiraling. That’s the easiest way to put it. His body is humming with worry, the light in the school hall burning his eyes. Sarah, his perfect little girl getting into trouble— 

Surely it was self-defense. 

He paces back and forth, then angrily looks at the door. Why is this taking so long? Why isn’t he already in there, learning what the hell happened? 

“Take a breath, Joel.” 

His head snaps towards the source of the voice, his heart easing a bit but not entirely calmed down yet. You offer him a kind smile, patting the seat next to you for him to join you. Joel shakes his head almost violently. “I can’t,” he sighs. “I need to know what the hell happened. I need to know if she’s alright.” 

“She’s in class, she’s alright,” you swiftly get up from your sweet and cradle his cheeks. He wants to look away. He’s still not used to being this vulnerable, this open. “I need you to calm down before we go in, okay? Don’t go on wreaking havoc without us learning what happened.”

Joel grimaces, his brows furrowing, he holds your wrists and tugs your hands down. He sees a moment of hurt reflected in your eyes but is quick to appease those worries by pressing his lips against your cheek. He’s glad you’re here. Truly. But he’s also worried about Sarah. She might be in class, however, that doesn’t mean that she was hurt in some other way. He lets out another breath and looks at the door. If looks could kill the wooden furniture would be dead by now.

He’s in the middle of leaning in for a proper kiss when the door finally opens. Both of them jolt, turning towards the interruption. Joel recognizes the woman on the other side. She has straight black hair that’s in a neat ponytail and thick glasses perched above her nose. Joel remembers her vaguely from Sarah talking about school... Ms. Pritchett, if he's not mistaken. He doesn't remember her first name. She’s young, maybe closer to your age rather than his. He gives the teacher a pointed look, to which she answers with a kind smile. 

“Mr Miller, welcome,” her gaze shifts to you “And…” 

You quickly offer her your name, flustered, as much as Joel can tell. He's a bit ashamed to admit it but at that point, he doesn't really care to figure out why you're suddenly tripping over your words. Joel turns to the teacher, his shoulders squared and tense. “You called about Sarah gettin' in a fight?” 

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.” 

He feels the brush of your fingers against the small of his back, a soothing touch and a quick one at that. He wishes your touch would linger, that your body would drape over his like a soothing velvety blanket. Sadly, he can't have that. At least, not now. You sit across from him and Ms Pritchett takes her seat behind the large wooden desk. Joel appreciates the craftsmanship of it. The way the wood feels smooth and new under his touch, polished to perfection, reminding him of something Tommy would make in his spare time. His eyes then linger on the nameplate right in front of him, Lily Pritchett. Now he knows the name of Sarah's teacher. 

Miss Pritchett laces her fingers on top of the desk, her sharp eyes fixed on Joel’s. He suddenly feels very exposed. Like this woman can see every mistake he’s made since the day he was born. Her smile isn’t soothing. Nor is the slight tilt of her head to make her seem whatever she’s about to say isn’t a big deal. But it is. He knows it is. He’s a single dad, no mom in the picture to help him out, and day by day those shortcomings are becoming more prominent in their lives. 

“Has Sarah told you about why she’s been having trouble at school?” 

The question is like a knife to the gut. It’s being twisted and pressed in deeper. He can feel your gaze on him but he refuses to look back. His heart skips a beat, then another. Why the fuck is he having trouble breathing?

“Her grades are high,” he manages to choke out between gritted teeth. “I ain’t aware of any trouble she’s been havin’.”

“I’m not talking about grades Mr. Miller. In that aspect, she’s excelling. But she seems to be having trouble fitting in—” 

“She has friends.” 

Miss Pritchett smiles again, albeit it looks more forced this time. As if Joel is working her last nerve, “She does. But those girls are in a grade higher.” she sighs and twirls her thumbs over one another. “I had a similar problem when I was her age. The thing is yesterday the girls were getting ready for gym class and started teasing each other by snapping each other’s bra straps.”  Joel’s mouth goes dry. He’s definitely out of his element. He holds his breath and waits for the teacher to continue, he feels your hand on the slope of his knee. “But Sarah didn’t have one and the other girls started teasing her.” 

“Why the hell are you talkin’ to us then?” Joel glowers and Miss Pritchett's mouth snaps shut. “Seems to me that my girl is the victim. Where are the parents of the others?” 

“Mr. Miller. . .” 

“No. I ain’t lettin’ her take the blame that was clearly some other kid’s fault!” his voice raises, his blood pumping faster, warmer. “You here blamin’ Sarah when she was clearly gettin’ bullied under your watch—” 

“Sarah tackled one of the girls.” 

Now it’s Joel’s turn to snap his mouth shut. Miss Pritchett's gaze turns sympathetic and you stiffen next to him, your fingers tightening around his knee. He shuffles in his seat and raises a brow, “Pardon?” 

“Some words were exchanged about Sarah’s mother abandoning her and Sarah tackled the other student to the ground. Things didn’t escalate—When Miss Crest came in Sarah was just holding her down.” 

“What did they say?” he growls, anger simmering right under the skin. 

He hates feeling like this. So out of control. Hates that her daughter is being targeted for something that was out of his and her’s control. 

“Her mother left us when she was young. A goddamn baby. Are you meanin’ to tell me that these kids are so undisciplined that they’ve been bullyin’ my girl for somethin’ that ain’t her fault?” 

“The girl who said it, Kimberly,” Miss Pritchett sighs softly when Joel fixes her another glare. A warning that she’s seen too many times from overprotective parents. “She apologized later on and the two have been talking a bit in class.” 

“I don’t care if she apologized—”

“Joel. . .” He finally turns to look at you. You say his name not as a warning, but more as an anchor grounding him to the moment. He’s breathing heavily. His body wrung out and ready to collapse. He takes a deep breath. In and out. He allows you to say what you want to say, what he’s too stuck in his own head to ask. Your gaze shifts from him to Miss Pritchett. “What should we do?” 

“Try to talk to her. If her mother left when she was young, like you said,” she gestures towards Joel. “She might’ve not fully registered what happened. Or what it means to not have a mother and only now she might be realizing it. As for the other situation, it might be good to get her a training bra for now.” 

A training bra, what does that even mean? It’s like he’s drowning, everyone saying things he just can’t understand. 

“The girls reconciled but I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, Mr. Miller, before summer break starts.” 

God, they still have to pick out the annual vacation spot, “I appreciate it,” he mutters, not really looking at anyone in particular. He gets up from his seat and so do you and Miss Pritchett. She extends a hand and he takes it. 

“Feel free to call if you have any other questions,” she says. “Sarah is a good girl and has a bright future. This is just a little bump in the road.” 

And for the first time since he entered the office, Joel smiles. She does have a bright future. She’s the most amazing girl she knows. 

“Thank you.” 

The sky is crystal clear not a cloud in the sky. Joel hates it. And not just because he’s in a sour mood but because there’s nothing he can stare at in the sky. Nothing to distract him. They’re waiting for the final bell to ring so they can get Sarah and go home together. Tommy is supposed to pick them up. 

“You have to calm down,” you say, walking up to him enough to leave a friendly distance in between. Joel is tired of keeping you a secret. He wants to feel the softness of your body against his own, want to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “I can go with her and get her a training bra. But you need to be the one to talk to her.” 

He cocks an eyebrow, “You think I don’t know that?” 

“I. . .I know you do. But let’s be honest you’re not exactly the most talkative. We’ve been together for a while and been living side by side for even longer—I still have no clue about Sarah’s mother or what her name is.” 

“Her name is Jessica,” he deadpans. Then with a sigh, he drags his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me. I don’t really have answers, sweetheart. She just up and left one day. She must’ve planned it because it was right after when we switched to formula.” 

“Did Sarah ever ask about her before?” 

“Once. When she was little.” 

“And?” 

His cheeks burn with frustration and he stammers of his words, “I don’t know. I don’t remember, she was really young so I think I made up somethin’ about her having a job far away or somethin’.” 

Joel groans and looks up to the sky. He watches the blank blue sky. How fucking boring. 

Your touch on his cheek brings him back down, your smile a balm to his soul, “Just talk to her. Ask her if she has any questions and be honest. She’s a smart girl. I’m certain she’ll understand that you’ve been hurting too.” 

Joel leans into the curve of your palm. A grateful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re too good for him. That much he knows. You’re everything. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his heart melts between the bones of his ribcage. “I lo—” 

The sudden sound of the bell makes you both jerk away from one another. Joel’s eyes land on your face, you look horrified and panting with parted lips. He can’t help the burst of laughter that drops from his mouth as he places a hand on the top of your head. 

“So jumpy,” he mutters, and as he does his eyes catch sight of a bubbly girl with beautiful brown curls. “And there’s Sarah.” 

He might be imagining it but Joel swears you frown when he removes his hand from your head. Before Sarah comes over, he gives you a quick pinch on your waist and your smile is back. 

“Hey there baby girl,” he says. “How was school?” 

Sarah’s eyes flit between you and himself, “It was fine. . . Am I in trouble?” 

“Not at all.” Sarah looks skeptical but accepts his father’s words for now. Just as she opens her mouth, a loud familiar honk interrupts. The three of them turn towards the song along with a couple of children and families. 

“Whoops.” Joel can vaguely hear Tommy say as he jumps out of the truck. He makes his way towards them with quick steps, only slowing when his gaze lands on you. Joel hates the way his chest puffs up like a rooster at that. He doesn’t like the sudden kicked-puppy look Tommy is giving you. As if you’ve betrayed him in any way. . . He runs a hurried hand over his jaw. If anything all of this is Joel’s fault and not yours. He refuses to let anyone think otherwise. 

“I thought the teacher called you?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his head to Joel. His gaze swiftly moves back to you. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” 

The endearment rolls off his tongue a bit too rough, which rubs Joel the wrong way. Joel watches you shift from one foot to the other, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked her to come,” he steps up. “I was worried.” 

Tommy’s eyes soften and Joel’s heart threatens to shatter. He knows his brother cares about him. It hurts especially when he shows his emotions so easily, the complete opposite of Joel, he’s like an open book. 

The younger Miller holds Sarah’s shoulder and pulls her close, “You a’right? Anyone givin’ you trouble?” 

“No, Uncle Tommy. It was more like I was the one causing trouble.” 

All of them start towards the truck and as they do Joel doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes light up at what she said. 

“The perfect student finally getting her hands dirty? Now I’d pay good money to see that—” 

“Tommy.” 

“But I wouldn’t obviously,” Tommy clarifies, ignoring Joel’s warning. He leans into Sarah’s ear. “Did you get them good, baby?” 

Sarah smiles and Joel realizes he would let her get away with murder if he must. 

“I did.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You and Sarah sit in the back while Joel sits in the passenger seat and Tommy gets behind the wheel. An uncomfortable silence surrounds them. The car starts moving and Joel turns a bit, looking between both you and Sarah. You’re looking out the window, your forehead smushed against the glass and Sarah is pretty much doing the same thing excluding the smushed forehead part. He sighs and turns back. Tommy is also tense which Joel can tell by the way he holds the wheel. He can’t really blame him. If you coming along with Joel wasn’t a tell of some sort he doesn’t know what is. 

“So,” Joel says loudly, cutting the silence in two. “We might as well plan the family trip while we’re drivin’ back home.” 

“Italy.” Sarah piques. 

“Every god damn year—no Sarah we’re not goin’ to Italy. But we will one day. Promise.” 

“Then I’m out of suggestions.” 

“What about you?” Joel asks, addressing you. For a second you look unsure, and he notices your eyes finding Tommy’s through the rear window mirror. “With how often we see each other you might as well come with us on vacation. It’s only for a week.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Your voice comes out tiny, insecure. He hates it. 

“‘Course I am.” 

Tommy jumps in before you can respond, "How about Lake Buchanan? You know, where we used to take Sarah when she was little. There's a resort there now, called Canyon of the Eagles or something."

Joel raises an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Not a bad idea, Tommy. What do you think?" he asks, stealing a glance at you through the mirror.

A small, genuine smile forms on your face. "Sounds perfect. I'm in."

"Great," Joel grins. "Lake Buchanan it is."

Sarah, who had been lost in thought, perks up at the mention of the destination. "Lake Buchanan?"

"Yep, that's the place.” a fond smile playis on his lips. “Remember the stargazing?"

"Not really,” Sarah scrunches her face in concentration. “But it might be fun."

"It's gonna be a blast."

Joel shares a glance with you, both of you secretly reveling in the joy that Sarah's excitement brings. 

He has no idea how long he’s been staring, but he knows it’s been for a while now. 

Sarah walked up to her room pretty quickly when they arrived home, Joel wasn’t happy about the way she practically ran away from having a discussion, however he also figured he learned from the best—which was himself.

He takes a deep inhale, feels the way his chest expands, and exhales all of it from his lungs. He can do this. He can talk. 

Joel knocks three times with his heart in his throat. He never felt more relieved in his life when he heard the faint permission to enter the room. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” he says, leaving the door open. “I think we might have some things we need to discuss.” 

“Is this about Kimberly?” Sarah sighs and closes the book she was reading. She sits up on her bed, pulling her skinny knees up to her chest, she stares at her dad. “I’ve already delt with that. We’re fine. And I’ll never do it ever again,” she raises her hand as if she was pledging herself to the American flag. “Promise.” 

“You know that’s not why I’m here. There’s more we need to talk about and you know it.” 

“I know you don’t like talking about her, dad,” she sighs. “I’m sorry I tackled Kimberly. She just got on my nerves. I don’t even know where it came from.” 

Joel decides not to tell her that she did good tackling her classmate and that he’s proud. No one gets to bully his daughter, and he’s glad she knows how to defend herself. But it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t encourage it. 

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” he says instead. “What do you wanna know?” 

Sarah blinks, “Why’d she leave?” 

The second time today Joel is indescribably gutted. It was a question he didn’t know the answer quite himself. He hated calling Sarah an accident—but if he had to keep it blunt that was what it was. They were young when they got married, and eager to be with one another. Joel still remembers the night. The creaking of his old truck as rain fell upon them. At the time he would’ve called it romantic. Jessica had just left work, Joel was waiting for her right in the parking lot. He didn’t want her to get soaked under the rain. She was upset at something that happened at work and searched for relief in his mouth. He remembers the way her curls tickled his face, how eager she was to mark his neck—

That was the first time he came inside her. She said she would take a pill the next day. Three weeks later they were pregnant. Joel, despite their crippling finances, was excited. A baby—what else could he have wanted? Sure he had to make some adjustments to his career but that didn’t matter to him. 

Jessica left as soon as Sarah didn’t need to breastfeed anymore. She didn’t even leave a note. Her family was out of state and technology wasn’t as savvy as it was now. He couldn’t track her down. He’s also ashamed to admit he didn’t really try. He was hurt. Heartbroken. He thought they had something special, that having Sarah was both of their dreams. 

But apparently, it was only his. 

All he can feel is pain as he takes a seat next to Sarah on the bed. He wants to console her, tell her some solid truth that would ease her pain. But he can think of none. 

“I don’t know, baby,” he says barely above a whisper. “She didn’t leave a note when she left and I could never track her down.” Sarah’s eyes shine with coming tears. He can’t handle it anymore, he pulls her to his chest, hugs her tight. “I’m sorry baby girl. None of this is your fault. I—I wish I could be better. I know I have shortcomings but I’m gettin’ there promise. And. . . And if you want we can. . .” A knot forms in his throat. He can barely speak. “We can track her down. Ask her for the truth. Because I swear sweetheart I don’t know. Maybe I did something to run her off,” Sarah stiffens under his hold but he continues. A faint sniffling reaches his ears. “I was workin’ day and night at the time. Tryin’ to get the business goin’. It’s possible I wasn’t attentive as much as I wanted to be—I might’ve—” 

“Dad.” Sarah’s voice comes out harsh as she peels herself away from Joel’s embrace. He sees the fire in her eyes but also the pain, her sweet cheeks wet. Her brows are furrowed much like his and he can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing. “Her leaving isn’t your fault,” she then says, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what you did—or if you did anything— but she lost all credibility when she just got up and left. Both. . . both of you were dealing with something huge. That burden can’t just be yours.” 

Joel blinks rapidly. His eyes sting when he does, he takes a sharp inhale and refuses to wipe his eyes. He’s not crying. He’s not emotional. It’s just the remains of the damn perfume Sarah likes to spray so much of. 

“And sure, we might have some problems, but that happens in every family. I love what we have. You’re the best dad a girl can ask for.” 

“You think so?” Joel chokes out. Sarah quickly nods, her own eyes suddenly wetter than before. With a smile, he shakes his head and pulls her in for another embrace. “For what it’s worth you’re the best daughter a dad could ask for,” he murmurs. “And I ain’t mad at you for tacklin’ that Kimberly girl. She deserved it.” 

Sarah’s laugh comes out muffled, “Dad. . . you’re not supposed to say that.” 

“I don’t care.” 

They hold on to each other with no urgency of breaking apart. He doesn’t care about the others. About the other families and their children. All he cares about is his daughter’s wellbeing. His own family that he built from jack squat. 

The rest of the world can eat shit for all he cares. As long as his little girl is safe, his brother doing alright and you in his life, he doesn’t care about the Kimberlys of the world. 

“So everything went alright with Sarah?” 

Settling beside Joel, a bowl of popcorn rests comfortably on your lap. The DVD menu is on, faint music of the movie he popped in echoing from the speakers. You were a bit hesitant to come over after today. And you were surprised to hear that Sarah went out to stay with her friends. You’d expected the two to have a long talk, maybe even share a pint of ice cream. But Sarah was Joel’s daughter after all, just like his father she probably cut it short, told her how she felt and they both moved on. 

You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. However, as long as they’re both happy you don’t care all that much about how they get there. 

“It went fine,” Joel responds, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Just like you said, I was honest and she understood. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here. I think there are a bunch of old pictures in the garage, including Jessica and Sarah as a baby. I don’t know if she would wanna see those though.”

“Yeah. . .” Your eyes shift to the screen, sadly, you don’t really have an answer to that. It’s not like Sarah thinks of her mother fondly and would want to see pictures. Your brain and heart are both worn out from everything that happened today. Both organs scrambled and twisted. You let out a soft sigh—a sigh so soft that it barely parts your lips, but he hears you. 

“I haven’t asked how you were feelin’ about all this,” he squeezes your shoulder. “How have ya been? This wasn’t all too much for you was it?” 

You smile. After all this time you’re still not used to being looked out after. 

“I’m okay. I just. . .” You think of Tommy and the look he gave you right before giving all his attention to Sarah. The hurt look in his eyes. The suspicion. “I need you to promise me something—I need you to swear on it.” 

His brows furrow, the deep crease between them making your heart clench. You chew on the inside of your cheek, your stomach suddenly full of knots. “I need you to swear you’ll tell Tommy soon. We—We can do it together if you want but I can’t handle seeing him almost every day and just lying—”

“You’re—We’re not lyin’—” 

“Swear.”

He turns to you now. The soft light of the TV illuminating his face, making it appear softer. More innocent and full of hurt. His eyes grow kind, understanding. Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart plummets. You don’t think there’s a man out there capable of better understanding you than Joel Miller. He’s everything. And he makes you feel like everything. 

“On my life.”

we're entering the vacation arc babes 🚗🌲🏞️

[fiveht]

i've literally never read wolfstar in my whole life but i DO love me some drarry and i ADORE you. i devoured Disarm You and i truly. In my spirit and in my bones, need to see baby siri in subspace. or something. remus in top!space? possessive? protective? literally feral thinking about keeping sirius under lock and key (and plug) forever?? i am losing my mind here. remus being 6'5???? who do i ask about creating art for this??? tiny ass siri and NBA point guard remus?? and topping all this off with daddy!kink? let's talk about this fic and all your other favorite pairings forever and ever. write me back. love you.

UUUGH their height difference is everything to me. (Sirius is 5'7" btw, don't  @ me)

Okay so, their Christmas is mostly about like, watching movies and taking baths and learning each others' bodies, just touching all the time and having cute, dirty, exciting new relationship type sex, falling into bed together whenever they want because they have like two weeks together and no one to interrupt them.

But, once Christmas is over, I absolutely want to write some stuff that's just straight up PWPs with these two, because honestly PWPs are my thing, like that's my whole fandom existence up until like 6 months ago. And they have so many things to explore together, and baby boy is obviously getting tied up and plugged up and spanked and whatever else the two of them can come up with. Because Remus is the definition of down bad for this boy, like he's going to spend the rest of his days gritting his teeth trying to resist the urge to to toss Sirius over his shoulder and drag him to his bedroom and bind him to the bed and keep him there forever, because he just wants to fucking touch him ALL THE TIME, and know where he is all the time, and keep him safe and sheltered and right where Remus can always reach him forever and ever amen.

But what he'll do is buy a little bluetooth controlled vibrating plug and have Sirius put it in while Remus is on campus teaching his night class, and every now and then he'll just unlock his phone on his desk and turn the plug on and know that halfway across the city, Sirius is wailing into a pillow, because even at a distance, daddy controls his pleasure.

And he's not gonna do that, because Remus is not actually crazy, he just has crazy thoughts, because Sirius is like a fucking dream come true, a lifetime of fantasies made flesh, and it's breaking something in Remus' brain. But he also wants Sirius to be his beautiful self, and thrive, and get his engineering degree, and take over the fucking world if he wants to. So Remus isn't actually going to act on the caveman desires.

And what he'll do is get Sirius a whole new wardrobe and all kinds of expensive bath bombs and hair care products, because while Remus isn't a jealous man, he sure is a possessive man, and the idea that Sirius is walking around in the clothes that Remus picked out, smelling like mango shampoo because Remus wanted him to smell like that, that kind of ownership makes him feel fucking FERAL.

And what he'll do is strap Sirius into these pretty cuffs that bind his delicate wrists to his pale little thighs and he'll sit him in his lap and bounce him up and down on his daddy's cock until he's sobbing and three orgasms deep and still begging for it because he's daddy's good boy.

And then he'll carry him to a nice hot bath, and wash his lovely hair, and take him to the kitchen and make him pancakes at 3 in the morning, because Remus is his daddy, and that means he takes care of him. And Remus is, above all else, a complete fucking simp for Sirius Black.

So uh, hi, and thank you 😊

[a-commas-a-pause]

#not to be like ''they had us in the first half im not gonna lie'' #BUT #theres a glaring red flag here and its named evolutionary psychology #almost all of evolutionary psychology is speculative at best because theres no way to test any of the theories#a lot of it based on inferences drawn from evolutionary theory and said inferences are hardly objective#you cant test most theories because we cant exactly compare brains along the human ancestry line (i dont know what the correct term is)#neither structurally nor things like pathways of neurotransmitters or like structural functionality#we also cant do the same for things like hormone levels#and we do not have a clear concrete idea of what societies would have looked like both on a macro and micro level#we also cant really run experiments because either theyre unethical or theyre just not valid like in regards to construct validity#like evolutionary psychology posits that you would see the same behaviour across every person on earth because it posits behaviour is down#to evolution. while you could run crosscultural studies the ideal way to test your theory would be to separate someone from society entirely

#from birth. obviously you cant do this because its just unspeakably unethical.#another experimental format you might see is having a research accomplice (i cant remember the actual term) approach unknowing participants#who are just like out for coffee or something in order to ask for their number or to try to flirt with them. and for each condition youd#change how theyre dressed. typically youd have ''rich'' ''middle class'' ''poor'' conditions and youd observe any differences#and you might see differences like the guy with the rolex and fancy car being more successful. evolutionary psychologists argue its due to#said person being a more desirable mate. however i and many others dont think that you can draw that conclusion because the underlying#theory or model hasnt been proven. you could draw many other conclusions. so the construct validity is Bad™#most experiments ran simply cant test the underlying theory so their construct validity is thin on the ground#you can see that happening in that study. its been interpreted in regards to the poorer-performing men ''losing status''#aka becoming a less desirable mate because thats the underlying theory.#to simplify it: mens behaviour is driven by a primitive want to find a women with desirable traits who will give him strong children#he will perform certain acts himself to prove himself to a desirable woman. women want a strong mate who can protect her and her children#phrases like high statuses are often used in place of desirable. youll hear this stuff thrown around in the manosphere#you also have the mate deprivation hypothesis aka justifying rape via evolutionary psychology#but yeah no it appears those authors are reducing the behaviour observed entirely down to essentially caveman want fuck#and not considering stuff like cultural misogyny or toxic gamer cultures or the alt right pipeline and so on and on and on#so yeah fun fact: if you come across the phrase evolutionary psychology get a whole heap of salt ready to take stuff with

@listen-to-the-inner-walrus as someone on the "evolution" end of this compared with your knowing the psychology side, we are as frustrated about the evolutionary psychologists as the psychologists are :/

One of the first things my first Uni evolution lecturer told us was to be wary of "just-so stories" when it came to evolution, and evo-psych is literally chock-full of them.

Still the best gaming fact.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Okay, but now I need to know your thoughts on this one. Care to elaborate? 😄

Look i've said it already probably but Peter Parker 100% wants to be a dad and he'd happily have upwards of three kids if you'd let him, like if you're happy to keep going through pregnancy and having kids with him (and it's medically safe for you to do so, because our man believes your health comes first) then he would have so many kids with you.

I think every single pregnancy he's excited, not just the first, every. single. one. Like he's instantly going out to buy baby things because he can't help himself and setting up the nursery.

It's Month 2 and he's already got everything ready for this child to enter the world. He doesn't miss a single doctor's appointment or baby class. He's always reading up on things and I always think of the below tiktok trend because I feel like Peter would constantly be trying things like this to just bring you some relief.

He's such an invested and caring partner and he knows pregnancy can be a massively uncomfortable time for people so he does anything and everything withi his power to make it easier. Sometimes he's even overbearing with how much he wants you to rest and how determined he is to do everything for you.

He's also absolutely obsessed with talking to the baby even before you get a bump and feeling it kick.

18+ under the cut

Hey, so um, I feel like Peter has a breeding kink though as well. Like he's out here from the first telling you in bed how much he wants to fill you up and see you round with his baby, how pretty you'd be, how lovely you'd be. And like so long as it's safe and your doctor has no concerns about it and you're also in the mood/comfortable, Peter is here for pregnancy sex any day of the week. The moment you're pregnant he's always telling you how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, how hot you are, how strong you are. The idea that you want to have a baby with him? Mind blown, caveman brain activity, and his praise kink arguably becomes like 10x worse when you're pregnant or trying to get pregnant and god, if you tell him you want to try for a baby? My man has an app with your cycle charted on it, he's figuring out the best time to have sex and he's making sure you eat well, he eats well, that you're cared for. He's buying supplements and reading up on fertillity. Even if it's not the best time to have sex, he's still going to do it because fuck he loves you and fuck just the idea of getting you pregnant even if it's to likely activates something in his brain.

While also being a horny bastard who just can't seem to keep his hands off you. Honestly, if you think you can sit through a dinner or a party when you've told him you want to try for a baby? Not happening, you're always going to leave early, every single time.

[jollystarfishtree]

Why The 13th Doctor Feels Odd

And no, it’s not because of superstition.

While most argue and debate on Youtube and other platforms about details, and superficial changes; such as, writing quirks, acting decisions, environmental ideals, and progressive leanings. The truth of the matter goes untouched, and no actual explanation is made as to why it feels like this new Doctor rubs so many the wrong way. So, like Jimmy Neutron I tasked my brain to the problem and had a brain blast. To understand why the 13th isn’t gelling well, first we have to travel back to the beginning with the 1st Doctor.

In the very first adventure The Doctor, Barbara, Ian, and Susan find themselves held prisoner by a bunch of cavemen. When they cleverly escape and make a run for the Tardis, two cavepeople track them down. Before an attack can be made, a wild animal mauls the caveman. The cavewoman begs for help, and Barbara and Ian find it their duty to respond. Realizing this whole helping a wounded caveman situation was keeping them from boarding the Tardis and running away, The Doctor picked up a sharp stone and aimed to kill the caveman to cut their losses. Were it not for Ian gripping his wrist, The Doctor would’ve done so too. What does this tell us?

Well, first it tells us why the Doctor keeps companions around quite sharply. Without them he wouldn’t have such a strong sense of humanity within him. What it also tells us, however, is that the 1st Doctor wasn’t too much different than his Time Lord counterparts. He was just as much a stuck up aristocrat as the rest of them. Actually, I’m wrong. The Doctor still is a stuck up aristocrat like the rest of them. Which brings me to the not so secret core value of the character known as ‘The Doctor’.

That secret being, it’s not what you are, or what tools you have, it’s all in how you use it. Imagine a kid being raised by criminals, but she doesn’t want to grow up to be a criminal herself. She has three options then. One, pretend she never was raised by criminals in the first place, and try to live an ordinary life. Two, give in and become a criminal anyway because it’s all she knows. Or three, she can use that insider knowledge to help law enforcement put similar criminals away. The Doctor, in a sense, chose option three.

At heart The Doctor is the royal noble man above the peasants. He’s the one who went to school with Boris Johnson. He’s the one who comes from a family whose been wealthy for seven generations. That’s The Doctor. But, it’s how he uses it that makes him so heroic.

Over time with Barbra, Ian, and Susan, The Doctor has learned the value of who he’d once disregard as little people, and as such uses his upper class knowledge and know how to fight for them. Not against them. With this context it’s easy to see why The Doctor works best as a white man (hear me out, please). Because, only by being able to “infiltrate” the wrong side of history can he ever hope to change it, or at least discover first hand their devious plans. It’s the reason why the Daleks, Cybermen, and other aliens work so well as Doctor Who villains. He can’t hide among them and change their minds from the inside out.

However, what he can do, is pair himself with the people fighting to survive the alien attacks and guide them toward a more peaceful direction in the battle. Because The Doctor has the aura of a powerful Victorian Lord, with multiple titles behind him, most of the time the frightened people willing to burn everything to the ground wind up listening to him. (Most of the time anyway)

Remove the sci-fi lends and you see a Republican using his wit to convince Donald Trump not to push the button for his own ego. You see the one man wearing a mask during Boris’ party, most of all you see a defector telling all about Putin, because he dined with him multiple times. The Doctor is part of that class of one percent you hate, using it to combat their underhanded plans and secrets. It’s who he is.

I came to this conclusion while watching Doctor Who: Flux not too long ago. In it The Fugitive Doctor made another appearance and my heart soared. I love her Doctor, and she’s only been around for such a short amount of time. It baffled me as to why I enjoyed her so much more than Jodie. And don’t get me wrong, I do like Jodie’s Doctor, but there was something right about Fugitive Doctor I couldn’t find in 13. Thinking on it I found the answer in her posture, and commanding stature.

The Fugitive Doctor conducts herself as if she is beyond her lessers, and doesn’t have time for little peoples petty problems. Yet, she does what’s right anyway. When her companion is killed she gets angry, when villainous aliens kidnap countless lives she’s there to help. Above the world, yet doing all she can for it. That’s the doctor.

So, provided context can you see where the 13th feels odd? Allow me one more comparison. During both Russell T Davis, and Steven Moffat’s respective eras we had a new type of Doctor. Where the original Doctor’s could be eccentric, depending on the regeneration, each had the vibe of classic nobility. Whether in their 20s or sixties, Classic Doctor Who starred a Doctor who was of aged dignity. Similar to the middle aged members of Downton Abby. However, Nu Who starred the 10th and 11th Doctor’s as rebellious youths. Less old school Downton, more Prince Harry getting into trouble. Old money just like the others, but with a youthful rebellion mixed in. Some liked it, others didn’t, but it was still undeniably Doctor Who. Then, what of the 13th? What is she if not rebellious old money, or Downton old money?

The 13th Doctor isn’t old money at all. She’s new money. Think a middle class person whose start up rockets to the moon. Maybe the Wall Street/Game Stop victory is a better example. Point is, new money isn’t generational it’s brand spanking new. How new money acts versus old money is demonstrated through the 13th too.

Take a look at the 11th Doctor. Energetic, fun, funny, and over the top. Not too unlike 13. When he enters a room he seems unimposing and like he had too much sugar. Not too unlike 13. During a conflict, 11 is sympathetic to both sides of the chessboard. This is where a rift becomes noticeable, because 13 does not.

Here is where 13′s new money status takes over. Where 11, 12, 10, or 9 wouldn’t always agree, but showed sympathy and understanding for the invading aliens, the everyday people, and even the greedy selfish one percent, 13 takes strong issue with the latter. Looking outside the realm of the real world, it comes across as a person with a chip on their shoulder. Yes, she may have won the lottery and is worth millions of dollars now, but 13 still feels the sting of being lower-middle class. Left out to dry by the rich and powerful. Unwilling to fully forgive.

13 didn’t go to school with Boris Johnson, she went to school with plain Jane. She isn’t above the “peasants”, she used to be a peasant. She didn’t come from wealth, she used to have to watch the wealthy get what she couldn’t have. In other words, 13 doesn’t see herself as part of the upper classes, and she fights tooth and nail to prove she’s not. Doesn’t matter the rocks that she’s got, she’s still Jenny from the block. Honest.

In conclusion - Are the 13th Doctor stories terrible? No. A bit ham-fisted at times, but otherwise good stories. But, is the 13th Doctor really The Doctor? Unfortunately, no. It lost the core of what makes the character work, and in doing so it drummed up a lot of anger. The fans who got angry but didn’t understand why, and kept grabbing at straws to uncover the reason, though they were way off. Granted, while their reasoning was way off, their feeling of something not being correct with the new take wasn’t actually off base. The 13th Doctor was fun, and Jodie is real cute, but...When 14 comes around I hope she (or, he) can bring it back to that old money aristocrat trying to do the right thing.

[crackinwise]

Mondo having a thing about coating Taka with hickeys and Taka having a thing about very much enjoying the process is a good headcanon I've seen used several times, in both fic and art.

I see it causing an issue for them at least once.

Kiyotaka has the syllabus and upcoming events memorized before he and Mondo have a "session" so he won't be caught broadcasting his love life unwelcomed. Besides, he always fears he'll be accused of being hedonistic and immoral just for using some free time to feel wanted by the man he loves.

Meanwhile, Mondo knows to keep it below the uniform collar, but that's a lot of fair game there. After one night where they get carried away, Taka's torso from the base of the neck down looks like a leopard. Taka looks like he lost a fight with an octopus. But it's fine because a)Taka wanted it, and b)he can still look presentable in public with them covered.

But, the next day at gym, the class is told the schedule had to be rearranged and everyone is to head up to the pool. Taka instantly panics.

As everyone starts walking, he grabs Mondo's arm and pulls him to the back of the group.

"Mondo," he hisses, "I can't go to the pool!"

"Why?"

Taka fully despairs for a brief second. "If I take off my uniform, everyone will see the marks you've made!"

The caveman part of Mondo's brain makes his chest want to swell with a mixture of pride and possession, but it plummets down to become a lead ball in his stomach the instant he notices the unshed tears and fear in Taka's large eyes.

"It's okay. S'okay, I'll figure somethin out. Let's just get goin," Mondo promises him.

He can't let Taka feel humiliated. He mostly trusts his classmates by now--Taka would never have another middle school experience--but this wasn't a couple hickeys to get teased over and laugh off. Their peers' first reaction might be to get Taka a bodyguard and Mondo a muzzle. The teacher might investigate; Taka's dad might be called. Mondo shakes away the mental image of a mortified Taka and tries to actually problem solve.

He couldn't picture Taka sitting the period out on the bleachers and risk being a bad class leader. Taka could lie about feeling sick or needing somewhere else to be to work on his Talent, but he wouldn't. Taka wouldn't forgive him for pulling the fire alarm either. He didn't know of any clubs Taka could help at this hour. Would anything at the pool hide him when they got there?

Mondo's head snaps up with an idea and he walks faster to catch up with the classmate who made swimming pools her domain. "Asahina!"

Hina stops hopping around excitedly next to Sakura and turns to address him. "Mondo? What's up?"

He starts to whisper while also glaring at any classmates daring to curiously rubberneck. "I need a favor. Do ya have one of them, like, swim shirts? Y'know, surfers and shit wear 'em?"

"A rash guard?"

"Sure."

Hina frowns, apologetic. "No, I never thought to bring one here since the pool is indoors." She gives him a once-over. "And I'm not sure we'd be the same size."

"It's not...for me." Mondo rubs the back of his neck anxiously. He makes sure to keep his voice low. "It's for Taka."

"Since when does Ishimaru prefer a rash guard while swimming?" Kyoko asks, suddenly appearing on Mondo's other side, startling him.

"Holy fuck! Who who asked you?!" he yelps.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she helpfully warns them. "Here, let's walk to the side a bit."

The three step to the outside of the pack of students to continue talking a bit more covertly.

"Now, Oowada, what's this about?" Kyoko asks, eyes sharp.

Yeah!" Hina loudly whispers back. "Is Taka all right? Him asking for cover is concerning, ya know!"

Mondo's defensive annoyance threatens to flare up. "He's fine, but he can't go in the pool today. I can't tell ya why, so don't ask."

Maybe if another teacher needed help, but Mondo didn't know of any and unless one walked down the hall, he couldn't beg them. Or the headmaster!

"Oi!" Mondo's outburst causes Hina to jump. He lowers his voice once again, "Kirigiri! I need ya to ask yer dad if he has anythin he can call for Taka to work on. Like, now, for the whole period."

Kyoko's cool eyes narrow at him. He knows she's still trying to suss out his motives.

"If it were just for you, I'd demand more of an explanation, but this is for Ishimaru, right?" Even as she asks, she has her phone out, texting the headmaster. Mondo catches a glimpse of her text starting with "URGENT" and feels a wave of appreciation.

Finished, she looks from her phone back to Taka, still uncharacteristically silent and walking yards behind everyone else. She notes how he's hugging himself and darting his unfocused eyes around.

"Hmm." Her hand is up to her chin in thought. "Well, all we can do is wait for my father to answer me or make an announcement on his own. I could always just lie and say my father requested him."

"Y'know damn well he'd hate that and give us both detention when he found out," Mondo gripes. He understands why Taka refuses a little dishonest help, but it's still frustrating as hell sometimes.

"Yes," she agrees, her voice was as level and confident as always, "but that depends on how much he'd rather be tricked than show off your love bites."

"Right? Damn."

Hina, still close by and listening, covered her mouth to muffle a giggle.

Then Mondo's steps faltered. "HEY!"

His shout echoed around the hall, causing a few students to eyeball them. Makoto was clutching his chest, about ready to imitate a fainting goat.

Kyoko didn't so much as blink though. "It's as if you forget who I am. But don't worry, I'll take all the blame for lying to Ishimaru if it comes to that."

"Thanks," Mondo sighs out. "If you two didn't help, I was gonna pay Hiro to predict a pool disaster big enough to stall."

That causes Hina and Kyoko to realize the severity of the situation might be more than simple awkwardness.

"You know Hiro would try to charge you, like, hundreds of dollars for that," Hina says, worried. "Maybe thousands. Is Taka really that embarrassed by a hickey?"

Mondo swallows thickly but doesn't answer. He feels incredibly guilty. He feels like a danger to Taka's reputation for a new reason than the usual ones that sometimes haunt him. He knows hormones and his lack of self-control are a bad mix, but add in Taka enthusiastically praising his mouth, and he has zero hope of restraint.

They arrive at the changing rooms for everyone to switch into their swimsuits before going to the pool. The other students file inside while Mondo, Hina, Kyoko, and the trailing Taka hang back.

When Taka stops in front of them, his wide eyes finally focus on Mondo. He glances at the girls then says, hopefully, "Any, um, ideas?"

Mondo worries Taka is going to have a panic attack with the way he's breathing and clutching his blazer closed. As if the marks were magically visible through his uniform shirt too.

Kyoko brings her phone screen up to her face to check for a reply, then shakes her head at Mondo. Hina wrings her hands.

Deciding he's just going to kidnap Taka for the rest of the day and risk his boyfriend never speaking to him again, Mondo starts to grab Taka's arm.

The P.A. system squeaks on. "ISHIMARU, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE, PLEASE!"

All four friends sag with relief. Hina does a little cheer, gives them a thumbs up and skips into the girl's changing room. Kyoko nods at Mondo's thankful expression and follows her inside.

Taka runs his fingers thru his hair, laughs bubbling out of him. He has no idea what had happened to save him, but he wasn't going to question it just now. He squeezes Mondo's wrist once with his left hand and smiles to convey he was never upset with his partner about the situation. Then he proceeds to speed-walk to the office.

Mondo's frayed nerves want him to break the rules and embrace Taka, but his impulsive actions have caused enough problems today. He turns to go get changed for the pool, his caveman pride starting to return after helping to protect his Kiyotaka.

Following this, Taka didn't let them have another "session" for a month, and when he did he made contingency plans to be nowhere near the pool for a full week.

[sunlightandsuffering]

milfkasa > dilfren

Mikasa must always come first

AHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY 🤣🤣 she does and Eren knows it 🤣🤣 ugh imma write a Drabble bc I have to wait 2 hours in my car.

Usually it’s him that gets hit on, almost every time it never fails, always him. He heads into parent teacher interviews and they grill him, the women like hawks. Single moms who want him to be their kid’s father figure, their next husband.

Of course he deals with this like a real man every time, because he’s not scared of school moms not at all. So like any smart husband would, he hides behinds Mikasa and makes his angry wife deal with it. Usually a menacing glare is enough to scare them off.

Today is no different, since he’s been alone in the lobby while Mikasa hits the bathroom he’s been asked by three different woman which child is his, which class they’re in. Followed promptly with aww she’s such a sweet girl when he tells them Yumi is his oldest. When he follows with the fact that he has two more they put their hands on his forearms and without fail ask if Mrs. Yeager is still in the picture, hoping for divorce, an impending separation as they eye his wedding ring. Maybe he's widowed, and he always has to break their hearts, but he doesn't really mind too much, Mikasa is always worth it.

Some brunette woman is going in for the kill, she’s been scoping him out for a little while now and finally she works up the nerve to say something.

“So is your child in this class to?”

Eren is about to answer, about to go through the whole spiel all over again when he spots his lovely wife coming to save him. Only she’s not alone.

There is a very attractive man with her, and Eren can only assume it’s Mr. Smith, his one and only competition. The one he’s heard everyone fawning over at after-school pickup. At first he'd honestly been a little offended that the PTA moms were cheating on him with another crush, but then he'd thought about Mikasa hearing him say that allowed and decided to purge it from his brain.

Eren’s gaze turns murderous when he sees just how chummy this jackass is being with his wife. That’s HIS wife Damn it!

Mikasa is laughing to, what the fuck??

But Eren will admit Mr. Smith is very attractive, black hair almost as nice as Mikasa’s and blue eyes he can see from here. Standing together with his wife they make a striking pair, Mikasa obviously outshining Mr. Smith obviously.

She’s wearing a little sweater dress to torture him with, exposing her pretty legs, those well-curved calves and the deep V of the sweater showing more than enough of her cleavage. It clearly has Mr.Smith’s attention, his eyes are practically glued to it.

Eren ignored brunette trying to talk to him and chooses to make his stand, Mikasa always does it for him. It’s really the least he can do.

Also he is insanely possessive and Mr. Smith just patted her shoulder when she laughed, unacceptable.

Before he can stop himself and consider Mikasa’s wrath for claiming her like a dog he does it. Eren stands, shocking the brunette and makes it to Mikasa in 3 short strides, arms finding her waist and chin resting on her head.

She stiffens for just a moment, before she relaxes, realizing it’s him.

“Watcha doin baby I think it’s almost our turn?”

It’s not almost their turn but he doesn’t want her talking to this attractive man it’s not fair.

“Eren,” Mikasa smiles tightly and he knows he’s in trouble for claiming her like a caveman but she’s his! He tightens his arms around her slightly, tucking her into his chest more.

“Hi, I’m Eren Mikasa’s husband.” Eren is very clear when he introduces himself to Mr. Smith and the man visibly pales.

“Nice to meet you, Mikasa was just telling me Yumi is in the same class as my son, thought it might be nice to organize a play date.”

“Maybe.” Eren tells him, smiling the whole time while he silently wars with Mikasa to keep her in his hold.

Their children will never be hanging out together, over his dead fucking body.

Mr. Smith looks unsure how to continue and Eren takes the opportunity to tug his wife away, “Well we should be getting back now, wouldn’t want to miss our names.”

“Bye Mikasa,” Mr. Smith tells his wife and Eren doesn’t give her a chance to say anything more dragging her away.

“Eren!” Mikasa explodes as soon as they’re alone and back in their half of the hallway in front of Yumi’s classroom.

He’s in big trouble.

“He was touching you!” He defends weakly.

“He rubbed my shoulder once!”

“Doesn’t matter only im allowed to rub your shoulders.”

They’re arguing in the middle of the hall and he thanks god everyone else is busy.

“Oh my god Eren we’re married! We have children!”

He pouts, sitting himself down on a nearby bench while she lectures him.

“I deal with shit like that all the time with you! I don’t do THAT.”

He looks away sullenly, he refuses to apologize.

She glares at him, arms crossed and tapping her foot, just like she does when she's upset with Yumi, disciplining their daughter, her's in big trouble. However, unlike Yumi, Eren has ways of dealing with his wife and they usually include kisses and bribery.

He grabs her by the waist as she’s about to launch into another tirade, causing her to help as she falls forward into his arms.

“Don’t care, you’re MY wife Mikasa and I’ll let everyone know.”

She scowls, “You don’t have to be such a caveman about it, you might as well have peed on me.”

He showers her in kisses, one on her nose, some to her eyelids, the apples of her cheeks.

“My Mikasa.”

She groans, “Yeah you stupid caveman your Mikasa.”

He smirks, holding her in his lap nice and close.

“You know I think I saw an empty janitors closet down the hall.”

She pauses, looking mock horrified as she considers his proposition, smacking him.

“Eren!” She chastises, but just like he expects she squirms a bit in his arms before leaning in, “I’ll race you.”

Then she abruptly takes off down the hall and Eren follows her at top speed.

[novakiart]

Hello, I demand we become mutuals- also how did you first come to ship Sabriel?

oh gosh, i hardly remember! but i'll share with you a few things that stuck out to me while i was rewatching kripke era gabe, because it got my gears turning:

- there's A Lot to unpack from the parallel of sam running away from a violent family business to pursue a mundane and safe stanford education and gabriel running away from a volatile family and heavenly politics to live as a trickster god on earth. like. if i'm going to be honest, i think that's what first brought on the sabriel brainrot

- sam already has a rich history with morally dubious characters and tends to see the world more in greys than in the binary black and white. that's partly why gabriel's recurring role as a "teacher" is so juicy—he dishes out justice in wacky ways and the winchesters kind of... get it? but while dean thinks the "just desserts" thing is Ha-Ha funny but also Very Bad, sam is consistently more open to sympathising with gabriel and trying to reason with him. he convinces gabriel to reverse dean's death and promises not to hunt him (he honours this!) and he's the one who wants to bargain with gabriel for help re: the apocalypse (as opposed to dean, who just wants him dead. which. fair)

- he's also just very clearly a monster fucker and gabriel is clearly willing, but—

- gabriel is also one of the most overpowered characters in spn—there's no good reason for him to give sam's arguments the time of day, except.....he does? he scoffs and gives in when sam turns on his puppy eyes in mystery spot, and he ultimately martyrs himself for the winchester cause. to put it bluntly, somehow sam has a palpable impact on an incomprehensibly powerful cosmic entity. being able to keep gabe in check (or at least force him to consider alternatives) gives their dynamic some much needed balance because, honestly, when has gabriel ever succeeded in changing sam's mind? he may be an archangel, but sam's too stubborn to give a shit. gabe acknowledges as much. and that's great, actually

- sam's faith. gabriel the archangel. this point alone could be a 100k chapterfic

- the weird cutesy bashfulness between sam and gabriel in tall tales. the sex jokes at sam's expense in changing channels. the theory that gabriel is fully in control of every character in his illusions and therefore was dictating every word coming out of dr. ellen piccolo's mouth. please rewatch changing channels with that in mind i beg of you

- look, at the end of the day the caveman part of my brain is just really weak for height differences and class clown/bookworm dynamics with a side of daddy issues. and that's valid too!

and while that is not THEE definitive sabriel defense, i hope it helps somewhat!

[suspiciouslyheterosexualbehavior]

TF2 classes rated by how well I’d do against them in a 1v1 fistfight

I woke up this morning feeling particularly arrogant and in my hubris I have decided to make a list where I completely accurately rate how well I’d do in a barehanded, no-weapons, classic caveman fisticuffs against the mercenaries. Let’s begin.

Scout: Were it not for Merasmus, this idiot would be the lowest on the food chain. He is spindly, and granted he is fast and can double jump, he probably weighs half as much as me. If I sat on this guy I’d win.

Final verdict: 0/10, I will break you like a biscuit, little boy

Soldier: This one’s all about strategy. There is no way I would win against a man that Rocket Jumps so regularly he probably uses it as a means to go to the grocery store in a completely fair fight. I seek to win, and so does he, and he might do it by snapping my neck like I’d snap Scout’s fragile ankles, and that means I’ll have to use my brain before he does so. If I tell him there’s something amazing behind him throughout the entire fight, he will fall for it every time, granting me victory.

Final verdict: 5/10, Really hope we’re gonna be wrestling around naked and covered in honey for this one

Pyro: Maybe I would avoid hurting a wonderful little frog like this if I wasn’t absolutely bathing in hubris as of right now, but since I am, I’ll tell you that I am looking at this one and I know I can win, so long I keep my language clean and don’t make fun of fire. Which is easy, since I love fire type Pokemon.

Final Verdict: 3/10, Just because everyone else is scared of you doesn’t mean I have to be

Demoman: Oh, this one might get tricky. Any idiot would think that as long as Demo is drunk, they can win, but Demo is always drunk, you fucking dumbass. Not a day goes by without him being absolutely wasted, and he has a canonically beautiful and romantic relationship with his liver, so waiting for him to die from liver failure won’t work either. Plus, this guy definitely has been in bar fights. He’s probably an expert on drunken fighting at this point. Though if I can make him fall asleep and forget why he was fighting me in the first place, I could probably win.

Final Verdict: 7/10, I can still win, especially if I also get wasted

Heavy: Yeah, listen. I’m pumped full of the kind of stuff that God-slaying anime protagonists bleed before the final boss battle. But Heavy? I can’t win. Sascha weighs several times my own weight, and this guy pulls her around all day like a fucking accessory bag. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll absolutely try to win, but my chances of Heavy continuously fucking up throughout the fight, as if God is rolling Nat 1s for his every check, are pretty low. He’s not even that stupid, so I can’t trick him more than once or twice. I’ll have one chance to go for his weak legs, because I know he skips leg day, but after that? If I haven’t felled him? I’m going to get thrown like a beach ball.

Final Verdict: 10/10, If I start crying maybe he’ll feel bad enough and let me win by default

Engineer: Now I am an Engineer main and simp, I really like this guy a lot, so entering a fight with nothing but out hands as weapons would, for most people, seem like a loss no matter what for me. Not so, idiots; I love fighting my beloved ones in an old-timey fashion, and it won’t change this time just because I happen to be in love with Mister Dell Cohnager. Engie is a laid-back nerd, so his strength, while heavily amplified by his mechanical hand, is lacking. On top of that, I’m 99% he’s a lot shorter than me, and since I’m a Jock, I will have a natural advantage over him in a fight. He unfortunately has an advantage over me by having a sexy Texan drawl and a deep voice, and if he smiles I might actually fucking die, so it’s a bit of a 50-50.

Final Verdict: 5/10, That helmet wont save you from these hands, but neither will my hands save me from that Cowboy Charm of yours

Sniper: While this man isn’t exactly incompetent, he’s still only right above Scout in regards to strength by my totally accurate calculations. He’s skinny, and most of the time he doesn’t even move around like Scout does, but pisses in a jar while waiting to shoot someone in the head from very far away. Since we’ll be going at it barehanded, I have an actual proper chance of decking this guy, and if I am feeling especially cruel, I can use his crippling depression against him to win by default. And I do feel cruel right now.

Final Verdict: 1/10, Get some therapy and come back to me for a rematch, buddy

Medic: As similar with Engineer, I do actually like this guy a bunch, but I don’t have a crush on him. Unfortunately, I’m a Tank main by heart, and while I don’t main Heavy, the urge to protect Healers from harm is stronger than my urge to hurt them. Should I somehow override this base instinct and become like those smelly little French backstabbers that feel no remorse at flaying Medics from behind, I might win against Medic in a fair fight. I wouldn’t know what to use against him psychologically, but I know he will be trying to do it to me. Whether it works or not is up to the unforgiving tides of fate.

Final Verdict: 4/10, I don’t know if I’ll feel great punching a guy with glasses, but Medic will be in Hell with me once we both die, so I can just apologize there

Spy: If I see a spy or suspect someone is one, I will maul them like a bear. I have something personal against them, yes, maybe because I’m an Engineer and Medic main, but that’s besides the point, really. I know I can absolutely win in a fight against this man, even if he had his watch and knife. Stab me in the back all you want, buddy, but I’m not stopping till either your kneecaps or your windpipe is crushed.

Final Verdict: 0/10, Fuck you I’m going to pee on your suit

[project-sour-grapes]

My Precious Entitled Career

Despite my “success,” I've come to the realization that how I approach everything is wrong.

I am a professional in tech and an artist. My friends call me patient and hardworking beyond what is expected. In high school, I was one of those never-crack-a-book honors students with a fancy scholarship. However, when I look inward, all of these good fruits seem like an accident.

I was recently let go from a tech company that your average zoomer would know the name of. There was a conflict around compensation that played out over a week or two that escalated into my being terminated. While the decisions I made were kosher with my contract and were built upon advice from other professionals who had been in my shoes, I now consider my approach to be a failure. It's important to note that I don't regret standing up for myself, as that lesson was overdue for separate reasons. However, my mindset throughout the conflict did not serve me any good and I've now seen the severity of my entitlement and self importance through a magnifying glass.

I could detail you the statistics on median pay for my job, my old company, my state, etc. I could state why the situation seemed unjust and why I felt underappreciated and fooled. Maybe it was unfair on paper, and maybe I had the right to be angry, depending on who you ask. But I don't care anymore.

Time has been plentiful for my unemployed self. I have spent it ruminating, walking, and listening to audiobooks, one of which is Ego is the Enemy by Ryan Holiday. In one chapter, Holiday details Jackie Robinson's struggles as a black man trying to play professional baseball. If anything was fair on paper, it would have been Jackie Robinson fighting back against the racists (which he did and was arrested for when he was younger). But as a professional, he was encouraged by others to ignore racism and just beat them in games. And he did. He didn’t fight anybody anymore, even though he would have been right to and those idiots would have deserved it. Being a famous baseball player and fully grown adult yet being treated like a non-human or a child is the peak of unfair. But Holiday’s book’s point is that looking past unfairness towards the mission is sometimes necessary to accomplish it.

I'm not saying my life struggle compares to Jackie Robinson's. In fact, that is exactly what I'm not saying. My "unfair" situations pale in comparison to his. He climbed Everest and I'm over here upset about an ant hill. And in some sense, I made that ant hill myself. I mean that if he can experience literal crimes and keep his head up, then I need to shut my damn mouth.

What is the correct approach to my work then? Let's rewind a bit. Full disclosure, my old approach to my life's work was this:

I am going to work myself to death for you, and if you don't give me the world in return, that is a moral failure.

Isn't that a biting statement? There is the entitlement out in the open. I'm not proud to have thought this way at all, and I'm sorry to all of you have had to put up with this mindset from me. But there it is.

Now. Where do we go from here? Well, during my unemployed ruminations over the past few weeks, I came across Dr. Alok Kanojia's (AKA HealthyGamerGG on Youtube) video on motivation, fairness, and how we're not entitled to anything. He talked about how, since life is unfair and unpredictable, we are not entitled to the results of our actions. We don't automatically have the right to the outcome of an action. We only have the actions themselves. Studying doesn’t entitle us to an A+. We are only entitled to the studying itself. That’s the way of the universe. In my old job, I prioritized work above all else. I forewent classes that I ended up failing or dropping. I begged to work overtime. I was, in the words of multiple others, "kicking ass." Then I decided I was entitled to something because of it. And I got angry when that was not satisfied. That is where I went wrong. It is true that I was promised a few things that did not come to fruition. Maybe it was morally acceptable to be angry about unfulfilled promises. But like I said, I’m done caring about that. That's not what it is about anymore.

What is it about is action. All we have in life is our actions. The more I think about what I value, the more I see the emphasis on action.

When we say to live in the present instead of the past or future, we're talking about action, since the present is the only time action can happen

When we roll our eyes at the person who says "I'm the idea guy," we're valuing action

The concept "Show, don't tell" works, because it is about action

Giving your soul to a job/person/thing who didn't even ask for it, then holding out your hand and saying "Gimme" is not about action. It is focused on outcome. Maybe it’s not fair that we can’t expect equal rewards in return for our work all the time. And on paper, it really is. Give X, get X. Seems fair and logical. But for me, for that to be the starting place and the motivation for my work no longer serves me. I’m not saying fairness isn’t a worthy goal or that it is bad. Fairness can be the outcome of a good mission. But it is not required to complete the mission. And it’s not going to be the sole motivator for my decisions, because life is grey and humans can’t always deliver on promises, through no fault of their own. What I'm not going to do anymore is throw my hands up and say, "Sorry, this is unfair so I quit.”

Where this leaves me is that I'm reconsidering my career--not only how I approach the work but the field I chose entirely. In the past, I tried to do biomedical research, but I failed. I have also enrolled and unenrolled in many an EMT class and have taken and failed Biology, Chemistry, and Physics classes repeatedly. This was all because of a hazy dream of being a doctor that has sat in the back of my mind every day. 

I kept trying out this doctor dream, but I would always hit a tiny snag, exaggerate it, and give up. I have gone through about 10 multi-month cycles of this for years. And guess what the snags were:

That professor gave me a B+ instead of an A on a single exam. Pre-med education is inherently unfair, and I'm not putting up with this.

I have to study this bio concept that I probably won't even use if I become a real doctor. That's a waste of my time, so I'd rather fail/drop than learn it.

Doctors have to get up at 5am? That goes against science on sleep schedules, so I'm not going to do it.

How pissy and entitled? Who thinks like that? Me, apparently--or who I hope to be "old me."

How did I get so caught up in what is fair or unfair that I lost sight of the forest for the trees? News flash, self... everything is unfair! Gym is always packed? Unfair. Fighting cancer? Unfair. Some idiot who cares less than you do got picked for the job? Unfair. Hell, the unfairness of life is half the reason why we even get up in the morning. Name a career that isn’t about taking an unfair situation and turning it into a better one. (If you can, maybe don’t do that career.) We do stuff as humans, because it’s unfair. Or the alternative, not doing it, would be unfair. If doctors threw up their hands because disease is unfair, we’d still be fighting polio. I wouldn’t make it one second in caveman times with my old attitude. The hungry lions staring at my caveman camp don’t care what I think is fair.

So here's the mission. We are going to look unfair things in the face and still do them. Despite their unfairness. Despite the fear that something will take more than it gives. Despite the brain saying, "This is inefficient, so let's not do it at all." In fact, it's because of their unfairness that we will do them. Then we can leave them better off for someone else. Or do them better the next time. I am calling this Project Sour Grapes. It starts right now.

[estebun]

THANK YOU FOR 1,7K

A few words from me first, alright? Believe me that there’s a lot of things I’d love to tell you since 2018 but I’m just too limited in my knowledge about English language that I can’t form a proper sentence. Thank you for giving me a chance in 2018 - for giving me hope that my “writing” is actually good enough and appreciated which I never expected because obviously I’m still uneducated af. But if it wasn’t for you I would never start this blog. I would never think about writing my own book in the future. 

I never expected this blog to grown on me so much,  Made the best friendships lost some of you too but I feel like you’re my family and I’ll always remember every single one of you. Even when I know I fucked up.

I’m not finished writing for football fandom, I’m just taking a break to focus on other stuff.

Thank you for wasting your precious time on me, thank you for 1,700k followers. I absolutely don’t deserve this. 

[dex-xe]

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling  that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

[wherearemyglassesbro]

Do you think nactions have sharp teeth when they go feral. Like do they have traits of animals that Rome the land since they embody it. Like do america and Canada and a few others have large bear or animal teeth

I personally don’t envision them suddenly a sprouting sharp teeth just to go wild but I do have some thoughts on nation teeth!!!!! I think it’s interesting so let’s talk about teeth babey

I am almost positive that it was @ashafox who first talked about nations’ teeth always growing so they gotta like...break them down or file them or something idk it was awhile ago but I really enjoy that thought!!! Like...Another part of them thats so similar to humans but just not so it’s like creepy for humans cause ew...toothies...

I mentioned earlier that they can bite forks while eating and leave a dent in them! Their teeth won’t survive that really. Their bite strength is fantastic!! But their teeth won’t hold up when facing off against metal. They’ll chip and crack and look really gross so nations will just rip their own teeth out and within 24 hours there will be a new tooth in it’s place. Gross

Their teeth are stronger than human teeth though!!! Just...I mean, they aren’t diamonds lmao

If a nation wanted to, they could file their teeth into points!! Their teeth don’t regenerate unless they’re pulled out or severely damaged to where their body is like “AHHHH FIX IT FIX ITTTTTT!!!” A subtle modification like that usually doesn’t trigger that until the nation is tired of having pointy teeth and they just pull em out. They’ll have a new set of chompers the next day!

Now let’s talk about the animal traits!!! ooOooOoOoOooOoO!!

I don’t see them with actual animal traits like galloping or chirping or stuff like that, when I say ‘animalistic traits’ I mean like...caveman brain or human instincts that have been bred out of modern humans or the ability to be hyper aware in the wild!

But many nations do know how to hunt, they memorized the behavior of certain animals in order to hunt them

They also can make insanely accurate animal sounds if they were raised in the wild! Birds and deer sounds are the most common among nations. Imagine how excited linguists were when they found out that nations can do that kind of shit

Like you know in movies where spies are like ‘I’ll do a bird call and that’ll be the signal for you to kick the door in’? I wouldn’t say that nations communicate in bird noises but they can joke around with them!

Something I like to think about is Francis or Gilbert whistling with their birds :)

Idk I think I lost my train of thought again I’m in class while writing this so I’m multitasking I hope this makes sense ;-;

[that-house]

Hey so I hit 100 followers today!

Buckle up, this is gonna be a LOOOONG post.

I quite honestly expected it (while my ego is a little smaller than my jokes make it out to be it is definitely present), I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

It’s not an insane milestone, plenty of people have 100 followers. A hefty portion of my followers are bigger than me. But it’s still important to me. Knowing that there’s 100 people out there who enjoy my shit makes me happy.

First and foremost the credit quite honestly has to go to ahegao George Washington. No, I’m not joking. Until I posted on r/tumblr about my desire to draw that, I had 0 followers. I jumped to like 10 overnight, which was awesome. And then those new followers helped me spread my posts and get more attention.

Secondly I’d like to shoutout @imaverysadgirl and @themeaninglessjumble. You two were my first real tumblr frens. You were the first of my followers to really interact with me. Ember, I’m super happy you’re alive to see me hit 100 followers. Jumble (I don’t know your name unless I forgot it), your art and creations are great and you deserve way more attention.

To all the rest of you, you guys are great, too. Every new follower makes me happy. I’d say I don’t deserve you all, but my colossal ego says I do. Regardless, being nemesi and getting called out for being horny on main and sending and receiving asks has made this last month or so great.

Finally, for all the shit it gets, and for all the shit it pulls, [tumblr] really is pretty dope. I got to meet you all, and it’s actively making me a better person by exposing me to groups of people I’d rarely interact with in real life.

Why does it feel like I’m saying goodbye? I’m not, don’t worry. I plan to stay, and neither death nor pain shall drive me from this hellsite. I’m just saying thanks.

Now with the thanks out of the way, I want to talk about myself a little. Just the stuff that I’ve always wanted to say and never quite gathered my thoughts and found the time to talk about.

You’re gonna get to know me so well! This is like a mini autobiography!

First off, my mental health. This is something I don’t talk about much on this blog, mostly because it doesn’t need much talking about. I’m doing pretty well, to be honest. I have a smattering of anxiety and I’m maybe a little too introverted for my own good, but I’m not suffering from depression and the only time I ever even remotely considered suicide was when I just really really didn’t want to go to French class. COVID has been great for me, since I don’t have to see people. I suppose I’m not a great person to talk to if you’re struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, seeing as I can’t personally relate, but I’m still always here for you guys if you need me. Just because I haven’t lived through your experiences doesn’t mean I can’t try to help.

Next up I want to talk about my sexuality. This one’s a bit of a mystery. For the past 16 years of my life I’ve considered myself 100% straight. But lately (let’s be honest, following the release of Spirit Blossom Thresh) I’ve been wondering if I might be bi. How many times can I joke about wanting to smash sexy boys before it’s not really a joke anymore? And if I am, a lot of things would suddenly make a lot of sense. But every time I think I have it figured out it suddenly feels like I have no clue what’s going on. Regardless, my sexuality has honestly never been a massive part of my identity (though I’m definitely not asexual, my friends can attest I’m far too horny for that). I have no clue if I’m bi and for now it’s kind of a fun little adventure!

I guess I’ll talk about school and stuff now. Believe it or not, I’m kinda smart. I’m taking a shitton of AP courses this year. But I simultaneously feel like it’s too much and not enough. I’m smart, but I’m not a great student. Compared to my dad, who graduated college with a 3.98 GPA (and his only B being in History of Canada as an American) and now has a super well-paying government STEM job that he loves, I feel like even if I work my ass off I’ll never quite measure up. And my parents have had super high expectations of me, and it’s only recently that they’ve started to accept that I might get some B’s here and there. I’m worried about all the homework this year. I’m a year ahead in Math but I don’t feel good enough at math to be taking AP calculus junior year. I’m worried I’m going to get like a C. But for the most part school is alright, too. That’s sort of the trend in my life. Everything’s alright.

Time to talk about my love life! I have no love life! I’ve been single for 17 years and probably stand no chance of changing that until at least college! Haha I’m so alone! But I can live with it. Growing up an only child with a few friends means that I’m pretty good at functioning without a ton of social interaction, and, while I’d like a partner someday, I’m not desperate. I can wait until I find someone. Pretty much my goal is not to die alone.

Onto sports maybe? I played soccer for most of my life, and was always the worst player on the select team. I was too good for the normal team and not good enough for the select team (kinda like math). Soccer was really toxic, especially when you’re the worst player on a team of high school jock drug addict boys. So I quit, and started playing frisbee! It’s a lot better. The people are nicer! But my first season never happened because of COVID and now I’m in my Junior year and haven’t played much frisbee! So I kinda suck! But I’m physically fit and that’s good enough for me! On my own time I bike and run to stay in shape.

Are you still with me? Now I’m gonna talk about my hobbies and things!

I’ve been playing video games for a long time. I kinda suck at them to be totally honest. I probably have below-average reaction time, and my parents only let me play 15 minutes a day for most of my childhood, so I have a lot less practice than most of my friends. I’m pretty slick with Swain in LoL tho.

This next part is borderline shameless self-promotion, but since the Kickstarter isn’t live yet I guess it doesn’t count. I’m making a tabletop role playing game! I’ve been working on it for the past few years. My goal is to launch the Kickstarter prior to my college applications, because that’ll look sexy as fuck to potential colleges. It’s a post-apocalyptic sci-fi game where you play as supersoldiers trying to reconquer the wastelands of Earth for humanity. I’ll do a big post on it when I launch the Kickstarter, and I guess that’ll also be a full name reveal (kinda spooky since my full name is ENTIRELY unique and one-of-a-kind. More ego boost lmao).

And finally I want to talk about my art and writing. I’ll start with my drawing, and finish off with my writing, since that’s what I’d most like to be known for on here (but that’ll never happen because my caveman brain shitposts are too funny).

So I’ve been doodling for a long time. I briefly got formal art training but sacrificing my Saturday mornings to draw what someone else wanted me to make so that I could make better stuff in the future didn’t appeal to my 8-year-old brain. I draw in the margins of worksheets. I draw on random sheets of paper. Recently my parents bought me a drawing tablet, and I’ve been trying to improve at digital art. I’d say I’m getting better, but I don’t practice nearly enough. All in all my art serves its purpose. It makes people laugh and can sometimes creep people out. It’ll never go in a museum, and I’ll never make money off of it but whatever.

And finally, my writing.

How can I talk about writing without talking about reading? I’ve likely read more books than both my parents combined, and if not, it’s close (and my mom is a prolific reader too). I have three bookshelves in my room and books on every surface. You can’t follow me for long without seeing a post ranting about my latest read. I love to read and I read incredibly fast. Reading spurred my love of English class, which in turn helped me write.

And finally, we get to writing in and of itself. I’ve been writing stories since I was a little kid. I’d like to think I’ve improved a fair bit. I’m still no novelist, but I consider myself a fairly adept short story writer.

But I suppose where my writing really stems from is my bed. Every night while I’m lying in bed, I tell myself stories until I fall asleep. I work on a story until it’s done or until I get bored of it. Along the way, in the shower, on my bike, I build the world of the story, crafting the plot. Sometimes the stories are elaborate fanfictions of my latest reads. That’s probably how they started. Often, they’re unique worlds all of their own. My current writing posts are about the City of Mammon, but my current story in my head is about some vampires who hunt other vampires in Victorian England.

And now we get into the process of writing. It’s fun! I sit myself down with an idea in my head, and use all the fancy words I picked up from my books to convey the vibes I want. I honestly wouldn’t be a great writing teacher. It’s just a skill that comes naturally to me as a result of what I’ve been doing with my free time my whole life. And it’s beautiful. And every time someone compliments my writing or reblogs it, I love writing just a little bit more.

Well I guess this is it. The 100 follower special. I wonder how many of you guys will take the time out of your day to read this. Hopefully a lot!

James (or That House) signing off for the night!

<3 thanks guys

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Truth or Dare - Halloween fic

Hey there! Here’s a Kinktober prompt fill and the prequel to a College AU 5+1 I’m planning. I guess it’s a little unkind to Maria? I don’t know. I don’t hate Maria, but I could live without her character. No body is dating anyone in this, so it’s not that kind of Maria unkind. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it! Definite smut after the cut. 

Kinktober prompts filled: Nipples/petting, Costumes, Getting Caught, Body Modification Words Count: 7.5k AO3

               It was nearly midnight on Halloween and Alex was *over* frat/sorority mating rituals. The first half of the party had been drunker-by-the-minute sorority girls offering to help him experiment with his sexuality in case he ‘wasn’t sure’ that he was really, really gay and the second half had been bro’s approaching him after their girls had whispered about him to test if he was really, really gay. Once the herd had been assured he was super duper gay and not willing to perform party tricks to prove it, he’d been left blissfully alone. Well, sort of blissfully. Alex was bored out of his skull. He’d been leaning against a hallway wall for the better half of an hour sipping rum and coke and people watching.

Maria had drug him here under the false pretense of introducing him to someone from her Algebra class only to have them mysteriously not show up. Now she was holed up in a corner dressed like a vintage playboy bunny and talking to some curly haired dude bro dressed as a caveman while Alex drank alone and stared lasers through them. He could be working on homework or picking up a shift at the 24/7 diner right now…or sleeping! The dude bro would catch his eye every so often and give him frank, curious up-and-downs, until finally he seemed to say something to Maria about it because she turned and looked at Alex, rolling her eyes. Oh, hell no. A few minutes more of close conversation between them and with a put-upon sigh, Alex watched Maria make her way over to him.

              “You’re being creepy,” she announced, sipping her drink casually as she mirrored his position and leaned against the wall to face him. Alex rolled his eyes and proceeded to scowl at her.

              “Well, it is a Halloween party,” he deflected, sipping his own drink and cringing inwardly at the idea that Curly Caveman might think he was a Creepy Gay.

              “Yeah, but you’re a pirate on the look out for some booty, not a ghoul. Go find someone to talk to or to not talk to. I should have this,” she indicated Curly Caveman with a backward jerk of her head, “finished within an hour or two and then we can go back to the dorm.”

              Curly Caveman was walking over to them and Alex tried to ignore how little the animal print loin cloth covered of him. Alex tried not to memorize every inch of him, but his brain was not cooperating. Maria, while being self-centered and completely unreliable, had excellent taste in boy toys. Curly Caveman slid up next to them and eyed them both with a cautious smile. He turned to Alex and gave his costume a good once over.

              “Dread Pirate Roberts?” Curly asked, smiling appreciatively.

              “At your service,” Alex flirted. He couldn’t help it. Technically Maria had called dibs, but she could literally fuck anyone at this garbage fire of a party and he wanted to have a little fun too.

              “Alex, this is Michael. He belongs to Alpha Alpha Beta. We have Composition together. Michael, this is Alex, my best friend since junior high,” Maria introduced them. They did the head nod acknowledgment thing at each other and then awkward silence descended on the group.

             “Hey, why don’t we go upstairs? Michael has a room here. Maybe we could play a game or something? It’s just so loud down here and I’d love to be able to get to know you better” Maria suggested, a mischievous glint in her eye as trailed a finger down Curly’s naked torso. Curly Caveman—Michael‐‐ looked consideringly at the crowd around them and nodded.

             “Lead the way,” Alex commanded, waving them towards the stairs across the room.  He thought he saw Michael look between himself and Maria and take a bolstering inhalation before turning and starting for the stairs. Alex had an excellent view of his ass and thighs as he started climbing the stairs ahead of him. What he could do with those wrapped around his waist….

             “Ow!” Alex exclaimed after a sharp elbow found a soft spot on his ribs. He looked sharply at Maria who was glaring at him.

             “I see that look in your eye! He’s mine, Alex. He’s obviously straight. We’re going to drink a little, play a game or something and then you’re going to excuse yourself for twenty minutes so I can get to know him better alone. Deal?” Maria whispered insistently.  Alex gave her a sharp look in return.

             “Maybe. Maybe you should excuse yourself in twenty minutes and I’ll get to know him better. You owe me for dragging me to this God forsaken hetero garbage fire so if you’re not laid in the next half hour, you’re taking me back to the dorm and then you can come back or whatever on your own. Tonight was not cool of you,” Alex retorted. They’d stopped at the top of the stairs and now Michael was at the end of the hall standing in front of an open doorway watching at them curiously.

             “Like you would’ve done anything else with your night, Mr. Responsible. You’re twenty and in college, this is what you’re supposed to do with your weekends in case you forgot!” Maria whisper yelled at him even as she smiled charmingly at Michael down the hallway.

             “You guys still want to hang up here?” he asked, looking uncertainly between them. Alex watched Maria put back on her flirty girl face and saunter over to him. Alex rolled his eyes as he saw the extra hip she put in her walk as she approached Michael’s room. He wanted to cut her bunny tail off and stuff it down her throat for putting him through this. Sighing, he followed and nearly jumped out of his skin as Michael put a hand on his lower back to help usher him into the bedroom. He caught Michael’s eye over his shoulder and nearly died at the shy little smile and wink he gave him.

             “Come on in, darlin’. Hope the floor is okay? My roommate is pretty territorial about his bed and stuff,” Michael explained, not breaking eye contact with Alex for a long moment before turning back to Maria. Well, well, well…

             They gathered in a circle on the carpet with their drinks. Alex reached up and pulled off his mask and head scarf, throwing it next to himself before taking a long swig of his drink. Then he went ahead and took off his leather gloves. Michael was watching him from across the circle and he pointed to his boots in clear question on if it’d be okay for him to take them off. Alex figured he might as well get comfortable. The rum and coke, though barely making him feel floaty and buzzed, had definitely made him feel hot in the close confines of the party downstairs and he was enjoying being able to shed some of his costume to help cool down.

             “You guys want to play truth or dare?” Maria suggested, sitting on her hip with her body angled so if Michael wanted, he could get a very thorough view of her cleavage in the costume. Michael looked at her and smiled, glancing over her and then back to Alex. Alex swallowed at the heat in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure yet if it was for Maria or for him that the heat was there. The bedroom was lit only by a weak lamp on top of a desk by the window. It smelled like sweat and old laundry and cheap detergent…and rain. Not like mildew or wet cloth, but the smell of the air minutes before a deluge started. Alex took a deep breath and hummed an easy agreement to Maria’s plan, noting that Michael had waited on him before doing the same.

             “So Michael….truth or dare?” Maria started, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. Michael smiled and his eyelids lowered as he flirted back.

             “Truth,” Michael answered, glancing between the two of them. Alex smirked back at him for his answer and Maria looked slightly disappointed but shrugged it off.

             “Okay. I’ll start off easy. How old were you when you lost your virginity?” she asked, sipping her drink and looking at him thoughtfully. He looked a little taken aback at the question and Alex jumped in quickly to save him.

             “Wait, what are the rules? If we refuse a dare or truth or whatever, what are the consequences?” Alex interjected before Michael could answer.  That stalled them for a moment and Michael gave him a grateful look as he took a nervous sip from his red Solo cup.  

             “Hm… How about if you refuse to answer a truth you have to do a shot? If you refuse a dare, you have to take off a piece of clothing?” Maria suggested, looking at Michael like a shark stalking a fish. Michael laughed and looked down at himself.

             “I guess I better not refuse any dares for awhile then,” Michael replied with a smirk.  She seemed to take that as a challenge and Alex groaned inwardly. Michael obviously didn’t know Maria very well if he thought she’d let him get away with that.  

             “So then… do we have anything with which to do shots?” Alex asked, looking around the room as if a bottle of liquor was just sitting conveniently on a shelf ready to go.

             “Uh…” Michael stuttered for a second, looking blank before reaching under his bed and pulling out a mostly empty bottle of jalapeno vodka and looking sheepish as he offered it to them.

             “Uhm, no. No, no, no. My mom owns a bar and absolutely not,” Maria said, waving her arms and shaking her head for emphasis.

             “It’s not that bad,” Michael protested, laughing at her.

             “Yeah, I’d be happy to drink it and I don’t plan on backing down from a challenge. If you don’t like it, you could go grab something from downstairs?” Alex suggested, trying to look innocently over at her while also thinking about having Michael to himself for a few minutes.

             “Ugh, fine. We’ll finish this off and then maybe get something else,” she conceded, grabbing the bottle and putting it in the middle of their circle. “So Michael, as you were saying….”

             “Uh, what was the question again?” he asked, leaning back onto his hands and looking much more relaxed than earlier. He wasn’t a super hairy guy, but Alex wanted to run his fingers through the dark hair on his chest and stomach. Leaning back put his body at a very good angle for ogling.

              “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” Maria prompted, looking expectant.

              “13,” he answered shortly, not seeming to want to elaborate. Alex wondered what the story was there.

              “Very precocious,” Maria commented, smirking and looking over Michael’s body lasciviously. He gave her a somewhat brittle smile in return.

              “Okay. Alex,” Michael said, switching his attention from Maria’s eye-fucking stare to look at Alex directly. Alex hummed in acknowledgement and set down his drink. “Truth or dare?”

              “I dare you to French kiss Maria.”

              “Gross,” Alex replied tonelessly to which Maria let out an indignant yelp. “Sorry, Maria. I love you, but I’ve got a lot of clothes to go before I have to start giving in to stuff I don’t want to do.”

              Alex immediately lifted his black, blousy pirate shirt up and off his body, tossing it next to him where he’d thrown his mask, head kerchief, and gloves. Michael was watching him, an appreciative grin on his face as he looked over Alex’s bare torso. Alex wasn’t as buff as Michael, but he’d spent too long living in a military household and competing on the swim team to be considered scrawny,so he knew he didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.

              “Oh wow, you have your nipples pierced?” Michael exclaimed, leaning forward on his hands and knees so he could look closer at Alex’s chest. Alex grinned knowingly over at Maria as he leaned forward and stuck out his chest to let Michael look at the silver bar bells through his nipples. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, mouthing the words “he’s straight!” at him over Michael’s shoulder. Alex mouthed a sardonic “O-K” at her before turning his attention back at Michael whose hand was hovering inches from his chest.

              “Can I touch one?” Michael asked, a little breathless and obviously fascinated. He hadn’t seemed to notice the silent conversation Alex and Maria had conducted over his head.

              “Sure, you can,” Alex all but purred. Michael pressed his hand to Alex’s chest, the space between his thumb and forefinger framing one of Alex’s nipples. Slowly, he slid his thumb under the bar, not quite touching it, but gauging Alex’s reaction. Alex bit his lip, holding it between his teeth as he stared at Michael’s inspection of his body modification. Then he was pulling his fingers together, pinching the end of the bar and pulling the bar gently away from Alex’s body. Alex sucked in a breath, but held down any other sound, teeth pressing harder into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Michael let the bar go and fall back against Alex’s chest before dragging his thumb down over the center of his nipple. Alex had to shift at that because this was starting to feel way too good to stay innocent.

              “Wow, are your nipples like super sensitive now or were they always sensitive?” Michael asked, looking up at him through his eyelashes. His thumb was still sweeping over Alex’s nipple and it was driving him a little bit insane. Michael definitely knew the effect he was having on Alex.

              “They, uh… they’re actually a little less sensitive now, but they’re still pretty sensitive in general,” Alex breathed, trying to keep from pushing into Michael’s touch with Maria staring daggers at him.  

              “Yeah, when Alex was in junior high his nips were so pointy. You’d always see them through his shirts and it became a thing that people would tweak his nipples in the halls between class. He would get so embarrassed,” Maria offered, obviously feeling ignored and malicious. Alex turned to her with a controlled blank expression and blinked at her, completely embarrassed she’d bring up that little bit of his personal history to someone he’d just met. He knew he was blushing but refused to acknowledge it and give her the satisfaction.

              “That must’ve sucked. I was fat in junior high. Kids that age are the fucking worst,” Michael offered, sitting back on his side of the circle, also blushing slightly. He gave Alex a small smile of understanding and Alex melted a little bit inside.

              “I did fine in junior high,” Maria replied, sipping her drink. Alex felt a flash of anger roll through him at her comment and decided it might be time to get a little petty. She had done ‘fine’ her whole life.

              “Truth or dare, Maria,” he asked, noting that his voice was a little tight.

              “Dare,” she replied, smiling like she knew he was going to try and embarrass her back if she chose truth.

              “I dare you to lick every doorknob out in the hallway. Every. Single. One,” he dared, watching her face scrunch up in disgust.

              “Ugh, gross,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at the doorway and considering it.

              “Feeling chicken?” Alex taunted, watching her over his drink which was starting to run a little low. He knew Maria couldn’t stand backing down to a challenge like that.

              “No! Fuck you. Michael, do you have mouthwash?” she asked even as she stood up, adjusting her bodysuit. Michael laughed and nodded before getting up himself. Alex followed after Michael offered him a hand and helped pull him up from the ground. They followed her to the doorway to watch her complete the dare. She stomped across the hall in her ridiculous black heals and immediately bent over to lick the doorknob. She shrieked in disgust and then went down to the next one. There were seven doors on one side of the house and six on the other. Alex felt Michael rumbling chuckle behind him as he pressed part of his chest against Alex’s back while they hung out the doorway watching. Alex felt a tentative hand press against his lower back and when he didn’t startle or remove it, he felt Michael’s hand smooth over to his hip and then up until his nimble fingers sedately started playing with his nipple piercing.

              “You’re playing with fire,” Alex warned him in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to Maria who was about halfway done with the doorknobs.

              “Am I?” Michael responded; lips close enough to Alex’s ear for him to feel the slight heat of his breath. “Maybe I like it hot?”

              Alex turned and gave him an accessing look, trying to figure out if he was serious or just being a cock tease. He decided to test the idea a little further and shifted his hip minutely, rubbing the swell of his ass over Michael’s loin cloth covered crotch.

              “Want me help your make the bed rock, Flintstone?” Alex ask coquettishly. Michael snorted, but let his hand drift to rest on Alex’s large leather belt.

              “Looting for some booty, Pirate?” Michael responded, bouncing his crotch off Alex’s ass playfully. Alex groaned at the joke but couldn’t deny that his stomach was tightening in response to their flirtations.

              “That was terrible,” Alex laughed softly, looking over his shoulder affectionately at Michael’s grinning face.

              “What was terrible?” Maria asked breathlessly as she tottered over to them from the last door to Michael’s. She looked a little unsteady after running around and bending over every few feet, but still cheerful.

              “We’re exchanging puns,” Alex explained blandly, even as he felt Michael’s hand drop away from him and his body shift to let Maria back into the room. Alex tried not to feel so disappointed at the loss of contact, but he knew it was necessary. That thought didn’t calm his racing heart though. Alex sucked in a breath and straightened his spine before he turned back to the room. He could see Maria in the rooms Jack and Jill en suite bathroom already swishing mouthwash like her life depended on it. Thinking about the habits of frat dudes, Alex surmised it just might.

              “We still playing or what?” he called from the door, shutting it behind him as he made his way back into the room. Maria held up a finger and spat the blue liquid from her mouth into the sink before coming back into the room and immediately picking up the jalapeno vodka and taking a large mouthful of it. Alex and Michael watched her with twin looks of impressed shock on their faces.

              “That was by far the grossest shit I’ve ever done, but no one can say I’m a bitch that doesn’t follow the fuck through,” Maria announced after she’d swallowed the vodka. She took another long pull before recapping the bottle with an expansive sigh of relief. She looked down at the bottle in her hand for a moment before looking back at Alex and Michael. “This shit really is pretty good.”

              “I told you!” Michael exclaimed, excited someone else agreed with him about the alcohol.

              “You guys are nuts,” Alex said laughing.

              “Alright, alright, alright. Settle in, let’s keep this going,” Maria announced, relatively elegantly slipping down into a cross legged sitting position on the floor while still holding the bottle in one hand. Michael and Alex followed suit and when they were settled Maria turned back to Alex.

              “Truth or motherfucking dare, Alexo,” she challenged, eyes squinting menacingly. Alex wasn’t falling for it.

              “Dare,” he chose, sitting back on his hands and watching her unfazed.

              “I dare you to finish this bottle,” she announced, shaking the jalapeno vodka at him. He eyed it warily but judged that it maybe had a double shot worth of liquor left.

              “Sure, hand it over. Does that mean you’re going to go get us another bottle of something else to finish the game with?” he asked, taking the bottle from her offered hand.

              “Sure, but I have to see you drink that first,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She knew he hated the taste of jalapenos. He liked other peppers just fine, but jalapenos made his lips curl.

              “Fine,” he agreed, unscrewing the top. He tilted his head back with the bottle and opened his throat, letting the liquid just slide down into him, barely touching his tongue before he was swallowing it. It was over in a second and he grimaced as he set down the bottle.

              “Yuck. You guys are lying liars. That shit is disgusting,” he remarked, looking around for the trashcan. Maria was giggling at his discomfort, but Michael was staring at him with eyes a little wider and pupils a little bigger than they had been a moment ago.

              “Your face is the best! Jesus, that was worth it,” Maria crowed next to Michael, laying her hand on his thigh in an ‘innocent’ attempt to steady herself after her fit of laughter. Michael grinned and laughed a little too, but his eyes didn’t leave Alex’s.

              “Okay. I’ll go grab some booze. Don’t get bored without me,” she commanded, standing up and wiggling her hips at Michael as she sashayed out of the room. The door shut behind her and left Alex and Michael in relative silence.

              “Michael, truth or dare,” Alex said quietly as soon as he was sure Maria wasn’t going to come right back. Michael stared at him with heat and knowing in his eyes, a smirk perking the corners of his mouth up.

              “Dare,” he challenged, still smirking.

              “Hm… I dare you to piss on your suitemate’s bed,” Alex dared, not really expecting Michael to do it. Michael full on smiled at him before standing up and taking a step closer to Alex. He ran his thumbs under the waist band on his loin cloth before pushing them down past his hips and letting them fall to his feet, leaving him gloriously nude and only a foot away rom Alex’s watering mouth. Alex looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a small, knowing smile on his face.  

              “I don’t have a death wish,” Michael answered, cocky grin still in place. Alex shifted to his knees in front of him, his hands landing on Michael’s thighs and rubbing up and down them as he stared up at Michael with blatant hunger in his eyes. Michael was half hard in front of him and getting harder. Alex was really hoping he was about to become a notch on this guy’s bedpost.

              “Are you just fucking with me?” Alex asked softly when Michael grasped himself and started stroking his cock slowly right in front of Alex’s face. Alex almost went cross-eyed trying to watch his hand smoothing up and down over his thickening shaft.

              “What do you mean?” Michael asked, hand slowing as he looked down at Alex seriously.

              “This isn’t your gay experiment is it?” Did Alex really care if it was, he wondered? The way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight and the fact that he’d been unconsciously leaning closer to Michael’s naked body said ‘no’, but he wanted to know exactly what he was getting in to.

              “Hell no. I’m bisexual. Practicing bisexual. Experienced bisexual. I know what I want,” he finished, reaching out his unoccupied hand and curling his fingers under Alex’s chin. “Which is definitely you if you’re up for it.”

              “I’m up for it,” Alex agreed quickly, shuffling closer on his knees and shooing Michael’s hand away from his dick so Alex could grasp it, angling it towards his mouth where he immediately gave the underside of the shaft a long, thorough lick with his tongue before closing his lips around the head and sucking. He swirled his tongue around the crown, a full-body throb going through him at how turned on he was to be doing this.

              “Oh shit,” Michael groaning, hand immediately resting on Alex’s shoulder for balance. Alex hummed and set to work with his tongue and lips, trying every trick he knew in an effort to drive Michael up the fucking wall. He pushed himself, relaxing his throat and taking Michael in deep over and over again as he stroked and gently tugged at his balls. He let his hand creep further back, massaging Michael’s perineum, before stroking a dry, questioning finger over his asshole. The noise Michael made was shockingly desperate and his hips jerked forward choking Alex for a moment.

              “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Michael apologized above him as Alex came off him coughing and wiping at his eyes.

              “It’s fine. I surprised you. Have you ever…?” Alex asked, petting Michael’s hole gently while his other hand slowly stroked him, Alex’s spit smoothing the way.

              “Fuck, yes. Have you?” Michael asked, pushing back lightly against the pressure of Alex’s fingers.

              “Only a couple times…. Do you want to?” Alex asked, feeling a little shy at the question. Michael nodded enthusiastically and backed away, walking over to his bedside table and opening the top drawer. He pulled out a condom and some lube which he tossed on his bed before turning back to Alex with a grin.

              “Well, get up here!” he said, and Alex realized he’d been frozen in shock. This was not how he expected this night to turn out. Michael’s utter confidence and enthusiasm towards being fucked was… surprising. Hastily he stood up and approached Michael by the bed.

              “I know this is a little backwards, but…” Michael started before cradling Alex’s head in his hands and rushing forward to kiss him. Alex responded immediately and with enthusiasm. He opened his mouth and almost swooned as he felt Michael’s tongue sweep over his, inviting him to respond. He did, following Michael’s lead, and his hands started wandering over the expanse of Michael’s skin at his disposal. He found himself trying to pull Michael closer, over and over, hands on his waist, his back, his ass, just trying to keep him close. Michael, for his part, was trying to get Alex’s belt and pants off, but Alex’s insistence on keeping them pressed together kept hampering his progress. Finally, Michael had to break their kiss to talk.

              “If you don’t let me get your pants off, this isn’t going to end the way we want it to,” he said, breathlessly as Alex’s mouth simply moved from his mouth to his neck and was biting and sucking the flesh there. Alex came back to himself, nodding wordlessly and bringing his hips back far enough for Michael to finish the job of getting him naked. His mouth, however, he couldn’t convince to leave Michael’s skin. He felt his waist band loosen and the fabric of his pants and underwear drop to the ground. He kicked the offending garments backwards, not paying attention to where. Then Michael’s hands were sliding against his skin and pulling him back against his body.

              “Fuck, you’re distracting,” Michael commented as he backed up until he could sit on the edge of the bed. Alex planted a knee on the mattress to follow him but was stopped by Michael’s tongue smoothing over a nipple and quickly being covered by his mouth. He hissed in pleasure and pushed his hand into Michael’s curls, cradling the back of his head and holding him steady. Michael hummed in pleasure and palmed Alex’s ass as he teased the tightened flesh.

              “Bite it,” Alex gasped out, watching Michael’s mouth work on him. Michael met his eyes through his eye lashes and Alex saw the flash of white as his teeth grasped the flesh and pulled, letting the skin scrape achingly slowly as it was released. Alex cursed and his cock, which had been mostly ignored, gave a desperate throb at the pleasure-pain mix. Michael, spurred on by Alex’s reaction, immediately switched to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment. Alex grabbed himself and found he was leaking precome already from the attention. He smeared the sticky fluid around the head of his cock and stroked downward as Michael kept sucking and biting at his chest, making his nips puffy and swollen against his skin. He felt himself getting embarrassingly close to coming from just the feeling of Michael’s mouth on him.

              “We gotta stop, fuck,” Alex said desperately, tightening his hand in Michael’s hair but not pulling. Michael stopped and looked up at him, confused. “No, not all of it. But I’m going to come if you keep doing that and we didn’t get that lube out for nothing.”

              “You were about to come from just me playing with your nipples?” Michael asked in awe, looking like he’d like nothing but to dive back in and see that scenario play out.

              “Yes, you’re very, very good with your mouth,” Alex huffed out the compliment with a laugh as he put his hands on Michael’s shoulders and pushed him playfully to lay back on the bed. Michael pulled himself back until he was laying on the mattress and beckoned Alex to follow him, spreading his legs immediately to allow Alex in between them. Alex leaned down to kiss him, hands smoothing down the sides of Michael’s ribs and waist, just enjoying touching him for a minute. When he came up for air, he reached over and grabbed the lube from beside Michael’s pillow. “You still sure?”

              “Yes, fuck yes. Please and thank you,” Michael said with a grin. He flipped over and grabbed his pillow, jamming it under his hips before spreading his legs wider for Alex.

              “Jesus, yes you are,” Alex mumbled to himself, turned on at how into this Michael seemed to be. He grabbed the condom and rolled it on before slicking up his fingers. He started slowly by rubbing small circles around Michael’s hole to spread the lube. He leaned forward and trailed kisses over Michael’s shoulder and back. He pressed inward with a finger and then backed off, trying to slowly work him open.

              “Dude, I fingered myself in the shower like three hours ago. You can move a little faster than that,” Michael said over his shoulder. Alex’s brain stalled out on the image of Michael in the shower, wet and soapy with three fingers up his ass and his hand on his cock.

              “Jesus,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Michael’s shoulder blade. He pushed a little harder with his finger and found that it did sink in quite easily. Michael gave out a soft moan at the feeling and Alex decided to press his luck. He withdrew his finger and came back with two, still pushing in easily but not so easily he wouldn’t need to stretch Michael a little more. “You can’t be real.”

              Alex pumped his fingers in and out of Michael, scissoring them and twisting his wrist slowly. He withdrew and added lube before starting to press back in with three. He took this more slowly and Michael seemed to appreciate it. He was moaning more loudly, his body pushing back against the pressure of Alex’s fingers, the muscles in his back flexing and relaxing as he tried to chase his own pleasure against the pillow beneath him.

              “You ready for me?” Alex asked after a particularly loud groan from Michael. Alex hoped so, he was still on edge from Michael’s mouth on his nipples and now the absolutely pornographic sound of Michael’s vocalizations as Alex pumped his fingers in and out of him.

              “Yes! Get in me!” Michael directed, sounding almost frantic. Alex chuckled a little and withdrew his fingers before he shuffled his body forward on the bed. He positioned himself, rubbing the head of his cock through the mess of lube at Michael’s hole, before beginning the push inward. He took it slow, pushing in and retreating several times before he was able to press his hips flush against Michael’s cheeks. Alex let out a heavy breath, panting slightly as he tried to get through the initial bliss of being so tightly wrapped in another person. He leaned forward and settled his weight on his hands to either side of Michael’s ribs. Before he could ask if Michael was ready, Michael took the lead from him and started shifting his weight below him. After the first couple of times, his movements became surer and Alex found himself watching as he started to fuck himself back on Alex’s cock in precise, fluid movements. When he squeezed his rim as he pulled away, Alex let out a gasp and one of his hands went to Michael’s hip to steady himself.

              “You’re just going to do all the work down there?” Alex asked breathlessly as he let Michael continue to work himself back and forth on Alex’s cock. Alex was utterly turned on by how desperate Michael seemed to get fucked, how ready he was to take what he wanted, and how fucking hot he looked doing it.

              “You didn’t seem like you were going to get to it, so I thought I’d start without you,” Michael teased through a pleasure filled groan. Alex bent down and bit his shoulder lightly, making him moan again at the sharp feeling.

              “Then I guess I’ll have to start doing my fair share,” he responded before drawing back onto his knees and grabbing Michael’s hips to pull him up as well. He started thrusting in a counter rhythm to Michael’s backward pushes, making their skin slap together loudly as he was buried over and over as deeply as possible. Michael was swearing softly under his breath, his hand under him working his cock to the feeling of Alex filling him so completely, his cock pushing over Michael’s prostate and winding him up.  

              “You feel so fucking good, Michael,” Alex groaned as he tried to stop himself from just rabbitting into the man below him. His body was a hot velvet clutch around Alex’s and he found himself getting lost in the heady feeling of it.

              “Fuck, you’re ruining me,” Michael moaned beneath him sounding impossibly turned on and needy. Alex privately agreed that Michael was ruining him also. They were getting close, moaning getting louder and more frantic as their bodies chased each other’s movements. Michael was back on his stomach with Alex’s gripping his shoulder as he made sharp, pointed thrusts that had Michael white knuckling the sheets in ecstasy. The door suddenly banged open and startled both of them into freezing, bodies pressed tightly together as they looked to see who had broken in.

              Maria was standing in the doorway with a bottle of rum and a mutinous expression on her pretty face. They stared at each for a long moment, Alex trying his damnedest not to move, but feeling like he’d probably start fucking Michael again soon if they didn’t end this stand-off. The feeling of Michael around him was almost too good to waste in a pointless conversation.

              “Goddamnit, Alex,” Maria started, walking further into the room and slamming the bottle onto the desk at the end of Michael’s bed. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”

              “Again?” Alex asked, wracking his brain, trying to remember to what she was referring. He was feeling a little dumb since most of the blood in his body was not centered in his upper half.

              “Again?!” Michael asked incredulously, looking over his shoulder towards Alex and then back at Maria. The movement shifted him away and back onto Alex’s dick. It was only an inch, but it made Alex’s stomach muscle clench in an effort to stay still. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder in warning, earning him a small squeeze of Michael’s rim in retaliation.

              “You remember Valenti?” Maria asked, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for his response.

              “Kyle was going through an experimental phase. I was helping a bro out. Besides, you had no claim on him!” Alex defended himself, a little affronted she would bring up something so far back in their history now.  That had been freshman year of high school and it was just a kiss.

              “You knew I had a crush on him!” Maria exclaimed, stamping her foot angrily.

              “Still not a claim. Besides, you ended up dating him like two weeks later and you thought he was boring! It’s not like you lost out in the long run,” Alex pointed out. Michael cleared his throat below him, the tightening of his abs doing wonderful things to the parts of him surrounding Alex.

              “While this is fascinating and I would love to explore your competitive hooking up history, I would like to point out that Alex is actually inside my body right now. Right this minute he is deep, deep within me. And as much as I’m enjoying the feeling of being high cock warmer, I’d also like to come sometime tonight, so…. Can we finish this in like ten or fifteen minutes?” Michael asked, seeming a little blasé about having Maria stare at them while they were connected and in such a compromising position. With less alcohol or maybe if it had been someone else, Alex was sure he’d be dying of embarrassment and probably be in the bathroom trying to figure out an escape route, but he couldn’t fathom pulling out of Michael at that moment just to save a little face.

              “More like twenty. Someone here took my head out of the game. It’s almost like I’m going to have to start over,” Alex joked, pushing his hips forward a little and earning himself a grunt and playful slap on the thigh from Michael.

              “Not til she’s gone,” he teased back, looking oddly soft as he stuck his tongue out at Alex over his shoulder.

              “Ugh, guys are the fucking worst. Alex, you’re the fucking worst. We’ll have words about this later and you can find another ride back to the dorms!” she yelled, grabbing the bottle of rum and storming out the door, furious that they’d started to ignore her.

              After the door slammed shut there was silence.

              “Well, that was awkward,” Alex commented. Michael pulled forward and off his dick, getting to his knees and turning around to face him. Alex held his breath waiting for his response. Was it too much? Had Michael decided the exchange was too awkward for them to keep going? God, Alex prayed not.

              “She’s the one who took forever getting the rum. She could’ve joined in if she’d gotten here earlier,” Michael joked, wrapping his arms around Alex and beginning to kiss his neck and jaw.

              “Gross. You may be bi, but I am super gay. I love her, but no. So much no,” Alex commented even as he tilted his head back to give Michael’s mouth more access on him.

              “So much no?” Michael asked, biting at the prominent cord in his neck and letting one of his hands pinch and tug at one of Alex’s nipples.

              “Fuck, yes. Yes to this,” Alex breathed, moaning and wrapping his arms around Michael, hand immediately going behind him to play with his stretched, slick hole. “But so much no to her.”

              “Lay back for me, then and we’ll get back to where we were. I don’t stop for pedestrians,” Michael whispered against his skin as he pushed Alex’s hands away from him. Alex laid back on the bed and Michael straddled him immediately. He reached behind himself to hold Alex’s cock and line it up with his hole before lowering himself down.

              “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Your cock is perfect,” Michael moaned, tilting his hips in a shallow grind against Alex. Alex whined at how good it felt, his hips rocking up in counter point to Michael’s. Michael’s hands came to rest on his chest, catching Alex’s attention before he said breathlessly, “Hold on, darlin’.”

              Michael lifted his body and started a brutal pace with his hips. Alex almost couldn’t keep up, but he bent his knees to plant his feet so he could thrust up as best he could. He did hold on, his hands going to Michael’s hips and he bounced on Alex’s cock, his hand jacking himself over Alex with abandon. He looked so good chasing his own pleasure. He looked confident and lost in the sensations he was experiencing and Alex was mesmerized by the sight of it.

              “Fuck, just like that. I’m going come,” Michael bit out, a high pitched whine pushed out of him as his cock started to spurt onto Alex’s chest and stomach, his ass clenching over Alex’s cock and wrenching an orgasm out of him at the same time. That had never happened to Alex before and it was almost too much for him.

              When it was over, they collapsed against each other, breath heaving from their chests, bodies sweat soaked and sticky, ebbs of euphoria flowing through their muscles. Michael reached down while Alex was still recovering and, holding the condom, slipped his body off of Alex’s so he could lay down on the bed next to him, shoulders overlapping in the small twin.

              “We should do that again,” Michael commented once he’d gotten his breath back. The tingling feeling that had taken over Alex’s body made him feel come drunk and dopey.

              “Tonight?” Alex asked, wondering if he had the strength to have that good of sex for a second time in 24 hours. Weren’t there universal laws about that much pleasure in so short a time?

              “Well, sure. But like, some other time too. Maybe after dinner or a movie or something,” Michael suggested. Alex felt his body go cold. He didn’t date. He was too fucking busy to date. He was working every possible odd job on campus to pay for school since his dad had cut him off for not following the family legacy. So he didn’t date. He didn’t do parties. This was such an anomaly for him to even be out tonight. He cringed at the necessity of what he was about to say, knowing it was going to ruin the afterglow of their activities.

              “I can’t. I don’t date. This was fun, but it won’t happen again,” Alex explained, sitting up suddenly. He needed to go. He stripped the condom off and looked around the trash bin. Michael rolled to his side behind him and rubbed a hand over his back comfortingly.

              “Are you not out? Cause I can be ‘just bro’s with you if it’s—” Michael started, but Alex cut him off. He’d finally remembered where the trash can was and tossed the condom into it.

              “No, it’s not that. I’m absolutely out. Fuck closets. No, I just don’t have the time. It wouldn’t be fair. Look, it’s not a big thing. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime?” Alex said in a rush and tried to offer some unlikely run-in as a placation. He stood up and grabbed his pants from the floor, pulling on his underwear and then them quickly. He grabbed for his things off the floor without looking up at Michael. He could feel his silence like an oppressive weight on his skin and the judgement radiating from the bed didn’t help the claustrophobic feeling coming over him.

              “So that’s it? Fuck ‘em and forget ‘em?” Michael asked in an angry, hurt tone. Alex turned and looked at him, anger starting to rise in him in response.

              “Like you learned how to fuck like that being a monk? It’s a hook-up at a party, Michael! You don’t even know me,” Alex spat out, pulling his shirt out of the mass in his arms and pulling it on with angry jerky movements.

              “I just thought there was a connection there, but ya know, you’re probably right. I’m probably just a cock-slut with dependency issues. Shit, and they say frat bros are fuck boys,” Michael mumbled the last bit under his breath as he too got out of bed. He headed over to his dresser and yanked out a pair of boxers, shoving his legs into them and then up his hips before facing Alex again.  “Have a nice life, Alex.”

              “You too,” Alex bit back, turning and leaving the room. He had to stop on the stairs to put on his boots, but he didn’t stop after that. He walked right out of the frat house and towards the dorms. It would be a long walk, but he wasn’t too worried about it. The longer he walked, the worse he felt about what had happened with Michael. He should’ve handled that better. Ruefully, he stopped and looked over his shoulder back towards the house and swore he could see someone standing in Michael’s window. Sighing, he turned and started walking again. It might’ve been nice, but it wasn’t to be. Alex reminded himself for the next two miles that he didn’t have room in his life for anything more, no matter how good the sex was or how addictive the smell of rain against his skins seemed to be.