#and i think it would make sense with what her skills are

[simplykhalasi]

slip of the tongue

my first offering to this fandom. let me know what you think!

summary: never in a thousand years did merlin think the next few days would turn out to be such shitshows. 

word count: 2.3k

Never in a thousand years did Merlin think the next few days would turn out to be such shitshows. 

It all started out quite normal – or rather, what was normal for Merlin, with him being the manservant to the Crown Prince and all.  He woke up dark and early in the morning, so early that even those irritating birds weren’t chirping out of his window. 

Fucking Arthur, he had grumbled as he slid on his boots. Clotpole has to go on a hunt even before the sun’s awake. Dragging himself out of bed had been no easy feat, and it was only the prospect of Arthur coming and hunting Merlin down that convinced Merlin to leave his comfortable, warm room. 

Why couldn’t Arthur go hunting on his own? If he was such a prodigal shot, he shouldn’t need Merlin’s help for anything! Obviously, Merlin wouldn’t actually let Arthur go alone, but, really, it was the principle of it. 

By the time Merlin reached the stables, Arthur was already seated and ready to go. His familiar scowl was in place as he called out, “Come on Merlin, you blithering idiot. Could you be any slower?” 

Merlin simply rolled his eyes as he lugged himself onto his mare; it was far too early and too cold for this. As they rode out the gates of Camelot, however, Merlin’s sour mood lightened a bit when he saw Arthur’s anticipatory expression. He was very clearly excited about leaving the castle, and probably, Merlin mused, its occupants behind. 

The hunt itself was fine, enjoyable even. Merlin didn’t realise how much he’d missed his and Arthur’s banter until they had it again. 

“Truly Merlin,” Arthur was saying, eyes crinkling around the corners. “You shoot with the skill of a baby deer skidding on ice.” Had Merlin been even a slightly better shot, he would have felt offended, but was Arthur wrong? 

But of course, that didn’t stop him from retorting back. “You’re hardly one to talk, Sire–”

That was when the first arrow flew. Merlin’s mare reared backwards, throwing him off her with a dull thunk. Merlin’s pretty sure his ribs are going to be sorely bruised later. As he dragged himself up, Merlin’s heart started beating in double-time as he realised that Arthur was battling four bandits at once. And losing. 

Right. Time to even the grounds a bit. Still on his elbows, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold. Less than a second later, a branch conveniently fell on the bandit right about to slash at Arthur. Unsurprisingly, Arthur took care of the rest. 

The sound of thumping footsteps had Merlin quickly getting to his feet and making his way to Arthur. His magic sensed eight more people in their vicinity…now was probably the best time to escape. 

“We have five people about to replace these bandits,” Arthur said disgustedly, nudging the head of one of the unconscious ones with his boot. “Get on your horse Merlin, and hurry up with it!” 

“Actually,” Merlin said conversationally, looking around for his mare. “It’s more like eight–”

“Oh, my deepest apologies, Merlin. I’m sorry I wasn’t specific enough.” Arthur’s sarcasm would have made Merlin smile, even with the situation they were in, had he not spotted the arrow flying across the clearing, straight towards Arthur–

The last thing Merlin remembered before he went down was Arthur’s shout and his Sire’s terrified face hovering above his own. 

That brings Merlin to now. Head throbbing, shoulder aching, throat as dry as his sex life and having to endure Gauis’ poking and prodding. Clearly, Merlin’s weekly prayers to the magic gods for Arthur to not be a magnet for crazy bandits were for naught. 

“Merlin. Are you sure you’re alright?” Gaius’ eyebrow was raised in his typical fashion. “It is odd that the arrow caused no wound, and even odder still if the arrow was not meant for you, but for Arthur.” 

I’m fine, Gaius, is what Merlin wanted to say. Truly, apart from his throat feeling a little too dry, he was! What actually came out was, “My shoulder’s tingling – and not in a good way.” 

Merlin’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes wide with astonishment. Where did that come from? He certainly didn’t mean to say that. Gaius, however, took no notice of his surprise, instead renewing his focus on the spot where the arrow had hit Merlin. 

Maybe he was just more tired than he thought. There was no way the arrow had magic in it, right? If it did, he’d know. Merlin nodded to himself firmly. Yes, he was just tired and it was simply the aftereffects of being shot by an arrow (that didn’t even pierce him, but Merlin was choosing to ignore that for now). 

At last, Gaius sat back, his half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. “Well, my boy, I don’t see anything here now.” He sighed loudly, clearly irritated that he couldn’t find the source of Merlin’s discomfort. “I suppose you can go now.”

“But,” Gaius added sternly when Merlin got up to leave, “That doesn’t mean you don’t tell me when something is wrong. You come here immediately. Do you understand?”

Feeling an odd sensation rise up in his throat at Gaius’ question, Merlin gave his mentor his most innocent smile. “Perfectly. Absolutely crystal clear.” 

The next morning, Merlin made sure to enter Arthur’s chambers with a loud bang. “Rise and shine, sunshine!” He announced loudly, throwing open the curtains to the window. “You have a council meeting to get to in about an hour, then knights’ training and your father wants to see you…” 

Merlin turned around to shake Arthur, but was pleasantly surprised to find the man already up. Staring at Merlin. And…was that relief on his face? No…surely not. Yet, Merlin could not stop the butterflies from taking life in his stomach. 

“Something on my face, Sire?” he asked, giving Arthur an impish grin. “Or are you simply in awe of my dazzling face–”

His voice was abruptly cut off as Arthur launched himself and wrapped Merlin in the warmest, tightest hug he’d ever received. Immediately, Merlin’s heart started beating faster, even faster than when they were being attacked. Was this really happening?

So enchanted he was, it took Merlin a couple of seconds to realise that Arthur was speaking to him. “You cabbagehead,” Arthur was saying, still clutching onto Merlin’s waist. “Absolutely fucking lost it. Why would you do that? How could you just put yourself in front of me?”

Merlin pulled back a little, heart warming far too much as he noticed Arthur’s well-hidden-but-still-terrified expression. “Why Arthur,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel, “Were you concerned for me?”

“Of course I was!” Arthur burst out, looking as if he hadn’t gotten a single wink of sleep. “How could I not be? You’re my best friend! I–” He cut himself off abruptly, turning away with his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

Immediately, Merlin felt bad for teasing him. “Hey, hey,” he said gently, tilting Arthur’s face to his own. “Arthur. Arthur. I’m fine. See?” He gestured to himself. “Not even a scratch on me. I promise.” 

Some of the tension bled out of Arthur’s shoulders. His face dropped a little closer to Merlin’s, so close that Merlin could feel the little tufts of air hitting his lips. From Arthur’s lips. If only they were a little closer…

Suddenly, a loud chirp sounded outside the window. And the moment was broken. Arthur and Merlin sprang back from each other, the latter feeling his cheeks burn hotter than the fire on a winter night. Gods, what was that? 

“Right,” Arthur said, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but Merlin. “Since you’re alright then, Merlin, you can go on with your usual chores.” Arthur sat down at his table, beginning to shove food into his mouth.

“And while you’re at it,” he added with a smirk, “You can polish my armour, muck out the stables, clean my room and sharpen my sword.” Merlin’s jaw dropped. 

In record time, Arthur finished his meal, got himself dressed (on his own!) and just as he was leaving, he turned to Merlin, seemingly back to normal. “All of this, by noon. Got it?”

Automatically, without him even realising, Merlin yelled out, “No, you lazy prat!” He ended up talking to a slammed door. Bloody wanker. 

If Hunith had been here to listen to Merlin cursing Arthur to the high heavens and back, she would have fainted from shock. Merlin, still fuming, stomped his way up to Arthur’s chambers, slamming the doors open. How on Earth was he supposed to clean Arthur’s stinky room and sharpen his sword? 

Hands on his hips, Merlin surveyed the messy room. Clothes lay flung around all about, muddy boots lay down in the corner and…was that a spider? Dear god, how did Arthur survive without Merlin? The room was spic and span when he left yesterday!

Right, well. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that. Letting his eyes flash gold, Merlin summoned the cleaning supplies he’d left earlier and got them started on cleaning up this pigsty. He, on the other hand, took a comfortable seat next to the window and got started on sharpening Arthur’s already-perfect sword. 

Humming lightly, Merlin almost didn’t hear Arthurs’ heavy footsteps. As soon as Arthur entered, the mop and bucket of water immediately dropped, falling into a heap. The man of the hour himself was looking around with a look that was nothing short of complete and utter amazement. 

Of course, he would never tell that to Merlin though. “Merlin,” Arthur said with his usual tone of prattiness. “It’s good to know you aren’t always a lazy arse. You haven’t been using magic to do your chores, have you?”

Merlin laughed. The irony was not lost on him. No, Sire, I would never. Instead, what came out was, “Of course I have, you dollophead. How else would I finish everything?” Merlin clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. His throat pulsed lightly, and a sickening realisation began to creep over him.

Thankfully, though, Arthur seemed to think he was going along with the joke. “Oh, really?” He said, looking at Merlin with humour. “Did you wave your hands and everything was all bright and shiny?”

No, no, no. Merlin resisted the urge to spit out the truth, his jaw aching with the effort to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, to no avail. “I wish,” he said, panicked. “But I did get the mop and bucket to do the work. Clæne.”

It just kept getting worse and worse. Immediately, the mop and bucket resumed their activities, dancing merrily about the room and completely oblivious to the sudden pin-drop silence in the air. 

“What,” Arthur asked, a dangerous tint to his words. “Exactly is going on?”

Merlin did the only thing he could do – he fled. 

Running at his fastest, nearly tripping over his feet, Merlin burst into Gaius’ chambers. “Gaius,” he yelled, panting. “Gaius! Where are you?”

“Merlin, my boy,” Gaius came rushing out from one of his long stacks. “Merlin. What happened? Are you alright?”

Merlin finally straightened. “No,” he whispered, tears burning behind his eyes. “No. Nothing is alright. Arthur knows! It–The arrow! It was a truth serum or something, I can’t lie–”

Gaius’ eyes widened. Moving faster than Merlin thought a man his age was capable of, he quickly locked the door and sat Merlin down. “Merlin, calm down. I understand you are panicking, but we cannot do anything unless you tell me what happened.”

It took a few minutes, but Merlin eventually calmed himself enough to explain what had transpired. “And now I can’t lie,” Merlin finished, slumping in his seat. “And Arthur knows, and he’s going to tell Uther and I’m going to be on the stake tomorrow–”

He was abruptly cut off by three sharp knocks on the door. “Merlin,” Arthur’s voice called sharply over the door. “Merlin, I know you’re in there. Let me in. I want to talk to you.” 

Merlin looked at Gaius pleadingly. “Merlin, if you don’t let me in right now, I will break this door down and–”

Miserably, Merlin waved his hand and the door unlocked. Why postpone the inevitable? It would only hurt more. Arthur stumbled in, eyes and hair wild. “You’re a sorcerer.” Merlin couldn’t tell whether it was a question or a statement. 

Arthur came to stand before Merlin, eyes hard. Yet, Merlin could see the pain, the hurt behind his eyes. “How long have you been practising magic? Why are you here? Have you been plotting against Camelot? Did you–”

Unbidden, Merlin’s mouth opened, and words poured out. He resisted the urge to tear his hair out. “I was born with magic,” Merlin said, interrupting Arthur’s tirade. “Before I was even three years old, I was floating things around, disappearing and reappearing. My mother sent me here so I could learn how to control my magic.”

Arthur’s mouth had snapped shut as soon as Merlin started speaking. Miserably, Merlin continued. “I haven’t been plotting against Camelot, Arthur. I’ve been saving it. You have to believe me,” He sent a pleading look in Arthur’s direction. “I’ve only used my magic for you. To save your life. Never to hurt you or Camelot.”

Arthur was looking at him as if he’d sprouted another head. He opened his mouth – no doubt, to ask another question – but Gaius interrupted him before that. “Sire,” he said. “If I may. You must know – Merlin is under the influence of a truth serum. What he is saying is nothing but the truth.” 

Before Arthur could even ask how, Merlin said,  “It was the arrow. The serum is magic. No matter what you ask, I have to answer with the truth.” 

Arthur looked at a loss for words. And yet, hope rekindled its flame in Merlin’s chest. If Arthur hadn’t called the castle guards, then perhaps…

Finally, Arthur sank down in a seat next to Merlin, his eyes softening slightly. “Tell me everything.”

[thenexusofsouls]

Ooh, Xenos was so shy and embarrassed the moment Wanda asked him how he was distracted by her. He didn't know why he felt that way, but it rushed over him so fast that he let out a tiny chuckle and his own blush darkened along with hers. "You are... everything... good," he said, trying to find the words to explain. "Warm... so I... focus... on holding you. B-beautiful... so I focus... on watching you. Try to think... of questions... of anything else... Thoughts return... to you... close... in my arms." He shook his head and his smile widened. "Cannot think... of questions. Too b-busy... being... en-... enth-... enthralled... by you."

The warmth that was spreading through him felt like it was coming from inside him now, rather than it only being because he was holding Wanda. It felt to him like she was granting him energy or breathing new life into him. Xenos truly didn't know what that meant or what was actually happening, but it felt nice

"You think?" he asked with sudden surprise when she said he was handsome. "I... do not... have sense of... what is beautiful... or handsome... to humans. D-difficult... for me... to know." Although, despite that, he felt Wanda was beautiful. Was she to all humans, or only to him? It didn't matter to him, but he supposed it might to her. He looked so happy when she asked if she could cup his cheek again. "Yes. Please do," he said with a nod, and her lovely warm hand was brought to rest against his cool skin. It felt so good, like the morning sun, but even better.

He was so contented by her and by being able to be close to someone without feeling afraid or overwhelmed. It was so new to him, but the longer he was around her, the more he craved the feeling. "I can?" he asked innocently when she said he could hold her a bit tighter. He slowly drew her a bit closer, not wanting to scare her, holding her more properly now instead of so loosely that he was barely putting any pressure anywhere. He'd almost been hovering his arms and hands, afraid of crossing some line somewhere, but now he was truly holding her against him. It was wonderful. "You are... so special..." was all he could think to say in such an emotional moment.

- - - - -

"Okay, but lemme ask you this... Are we sure there's no one missing?" Tony asked. "We should really follow up on that, now that I think about it. I mean... I don't wanna think like this, but... did he move people or did he... get rid of them? Make them disappear? Unmake them? I'm-... I don't exactly know where I'm going with this, but hopefully you're getting the idea. Translate my incoherence as you see fit."

Tony nodded. The Avengers could certainly benefit from someone like Xenos, since he seemed to have some skills no one else on their team possessed. "It would be good to have someone like that on our side, if we can trust him. That's the question... can we? We'll find out, sooner rather than later, I'm guessing, since he's gonna be living here." He just hoped Wanda wouldn't be so protective as to not allow them to ask some questions of Xenos, whether today or in the near future.

"Phrasing things? You mean... my superior eloquence and astoundingly poetic speech?" he asked with a big grin. "I can't stop being a smart ass, Cap, my IQ says so," he joked. "At least I'm not a dumbass. Of all the potential asses to choose from, smart is definitely the best one to be, don't you agree?" He chuckled at himself in a high-pitched manner, pinching the bridg eof his nose. "Yeah, I know, okay, I'll keep the assery to a minimum, be it smart, dumb, wise or miscellaneous."

As they made their way to the garden, Tony didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure as hell hadn't been the two of them embracing like they were an old married couple. "Geez, he moves fast," he said, unable to resist commenting. "At least buy her dinner first. Everything okay here?" he asked, his gaze moving from Xenos to Wanda.

Xenos reached swiftly up to replace his hood down over his face the moment he heard someone coming, suddenly feeling a bit afraid. His heart raced in his chest, and he wondered if Wanda could feel it. He knew it was irrational to be afraid of being seen, but it was only that he wasn't used to it. For now, his gloves stayed off, but if that became a problem, he could always quickly grab them too. He was also wholly unaware that him and Wanda embracing might be taken the wrong way, or any sort of way at all, not knowing much about human social customs. His brow furrowed at Tony's comment, though he knew they could not see through his hood. Wanda could, or rather she could see up it, but he was totally fine with that.

Tony was surprised by how human Xenos had appeared in the brief moment he caught sight of his face before it was covered again. He decided that probably wasn't something good to comment on, however. "We've got his digs all set up for whenever you two are ready to head back to the compound," Tony said.

"Digs?" Xenos asked. He knew was digging was, but in this context he didn't understand.

"Oh uh... your room. Your living space," Tony explained. "Where you're gonna... sleep and stuff. If you sleep."

"Oh. Th-thank you," Xenos said. "Yes... I sleep." He was trying to be as friendly as possible, even if he was rather terrible at social interactions.

"You're welcome," Tony said, glancing at Steve as if to say, this seems too domestic and normal for what just happened this afternoon, but okay sure I guess.

what are you afraid of? (Xenos)

Xenos should never have come this close to this developed of a human city. Even wandering the suburbs of New York City had been a trial for him, with car horns blaring, people yelling, and a sense of too many things moving around him all at once. But once he'd reached deep into the city, he knew he'd made a mistake. There was a stark lack of awareness from the people walking around him. Some bumped into him without warning while others simply seemed to have no spatial awareness whatsoever. There were even more car horns, and more yelling, and Xenos felt his chest tightening from the stress of it all.

Soon, he couldn't breathe, and try as he might to get out of there, it seemed the more he walked, the deeper into the city he embedded himself. "Back!" Xenos shouted to someone who had bumped into him hard, pushing him away with one of his hands.

"Hey man, screw you!" the human said to him as he kept on walking.

He hadn't realized that he'd wandered into a roadway until he was almost hit by a car. It screeched to a halt and Xenos lifted his hands to cover his ears as the sound of the car's horn blared so loudly he thought he would die. "Get away!" he yelled, and it happened. His magic lashed out, creating a dome of isolation around him, encompassing the entire block. Everything went silent, for he'd removed all the humans from within the dome, leaving them outside its invisible border. Inside, he left the animals and insects for they did not bother him, but the cars, trucks and buses were now uninhabited, turned off, still.

The silence was wonderful, and he felt the tension begin to release him. The dome's barrier kept out the sounds of the surrounding city, as well as those of the angry and confused humans who had been moved from their vehicles, or who could no longer pass down the street because of the invisible barrier. While Xenos paced back and forth in the middle of the street, slowly calming himself, people outside the dome where already calling emergency services and police, angry and scared by what had occurred.

The Avengers were called in.

Xenos moved inside a building, where it was dim and peaceful, taking deep breaths as he slowly wandered around. This was better. Much better. He didn't care or even realize the disruption he'd just caused within a major human city.

Outside, people were telling tales of a strange man who had somehow made invisible walls in the city, not fully understanding what all had happened. When the Avengers arrived, they were met with a large block of New York City that looked... empty, uninhabited. Cars left abandoned, doors to buildings left open. It looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse... but where were the zombies?

Steve couldn't punch through the wall. Tony's repulsors couldn't penetrate it either. They couldn't even see what it was they were trying to knock down. But not all members of the team were as hindered by the magical barrier as the rest...

Xenos knew the moment someone had entered the dome, and he twitched with the sensation of his magic being disturbed. Perplexed, for this had never happened before, he walked to the door of the building and peered out. A human was there... but how? No human should be able to defy his magic. None ever had before. He watched her from afar for a bit, until it seemed that she was, either intentionally or inadvertently, headed right for him. Did she know he was there? No, no, she could not. Humans lacked such senses, he knew, especially in this time. The sorcerers of old were all but gone from the world now, or... or at least Xenos hadn't encountered any for a very long time.

Slowly, he stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk, his body tilting awkwardly to the right as his head did the same, as though he was trying to size her up and see her better. When she spoke to him, he recoiled suddenly from the sound of her voice. He didn't take steps back from her, but rather only leaned back, his head snapping backward a bit as a dog or cat might do if they were startled while curiously trying to get the scent of something. He thought about her words for some time before responding.

"Not afraid," he said, but his voice was barely there. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to anyone to any real capacity, and his voice suffered from a lack of use. He didn't think it was loud enough for communication purposes, so he tried again. "Not... afraid." Xenos put up his hand almost as if he was making a wait a minute motion with it, but moved it up and down, as though pressing some imaginary buzzer in the air, his fingers outstretched. He was merely thinking of the right word, his head turning this way and that like the word might suddenly be floating in the air somewhere he could see. "Overwhelmed," he finally decided upon. "The city is... too much." His hands found his head and he swayed a bit, as thought he was in pain. "So I have expelled it... from this space." He then made a pushing away motion with both his hands, moving them out from his body.

But then Xenos' head tilted again, his face obscured by the draping hood of his long coat. "How...?" he asked, pointing back in the direction she came. "How... did you enter?"

[tothestarsinvelaris]

Elain using her gardening and cooking skills to create antidotes, salves, poisons, etc to help in war.

Elain's visions being essential to the success of the NC and their allies to stay ahead of their enemies.

Elain working with Rhys to keep strong mental shields up so people can't use her visions against them.

Elain getting training from Azriel on how to use daggers effectively, how to be stealthy and fade into the shadows.

Azriel helping Elain in the kitchen, using his hands to make warm food for his family.

Azriel helping Elain in the garden, planting seeds and getting his hands dirty in a way that helps bring life into the world instead of taking it away.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[grayyylake99]

I completely agree. Much of HTTYD is spent watching Hiccup mature into the title of leader. DoB/RoB/RTTE shows that.

Hiccup and the role of chieftan is also a major plot point in the movies… It’s apart of his ultimate character arc. He runs away from his responsibilities in HTTYD 2, failing to realize that he is a leader. He demonstrated those skills at the end of the first HTTYD when the gang comes to rescue the village.

Yet in the LA, all of those lines and that major role is given to Astrid.

I’m very interested in how that will play out, because it seems Astrid will be more interested in something that originally helped Hiccup to develop as a character.

Are they switching roles then? I don’t see how it was necessary to change that up, especially when it’s a huge aspect to change. However, it seems the LA changed a a major component of the origin of Berk, so I suppose one can say that because the position of chieftan is open to anyone now, of course Astrid would go for it. In the original —superior movie of course— it is otherwise assumed that being chief can only be inherited so it wouldn’t be allowed for Astrid to work towards it.

The only indication of Astrid ever talking about being the chief is on HTTYD 2 when she tells Hiccup she’d be excited if she were slated to be chief. Still, she is the Chieftess in the end! So again, what does Astrid wanting to be chief in the beginning really do then except make things awkward between her and Hiccup?

OG Astrid pushes Hiccup into the role she knows he can do. She’s the only person that can talk sense into him, and she’s the one supporting him through challenges he feels he can’t overcome. Astrid knows Hiccup can be chief because she’s seen him be a great leader. She doesn’t need that role to know her worth —but Hiccup does.

Now, if Hiccup becomes chief over her —someone who actually wants it— what does that mean for him?

Not saying he can’t exist without that aspect, but it changes a core part of his character. But will that make him or Astrid look bad? “Oh great so Hiccup ultimately gets the role because he inherits it, not because he’s the best”. No, Hiccup isn’t the best, but what makes being Chief essential to his arc is that through the events that force him to be chief, he grows.

I’m only bringing that up because the LA brought on the ideas of nepotism… which I can and can’t see.

Now this is really my own opinion, but I think it was a little uncalled for. Despite Hiccup always messing up, he isn’t banished or something. We don’t know how Berk treats those who cannot contribute to society. One can assume it happens, but it’s never explicitly stated in either the OG or the LA. In the OG, dragon training is a rite of passage, but in the LA it seems only the best can enter? But then why are they mad because the twins had messed up multiple times too and never got kicked out…

Also, OG Hiccup really tries. He wants to be an active member, he just lacks the physical ability and thinks outside the box. He’s smart —like making a complex bola weapon— but not Viking smart —knowing how fast to throw an axe.

I didn’t feel Hiccup did anything in the LA, because Astrid took the reins anyway. Why didn’t Astrid get more credit at the end of the movie then, too? “We just needed a little more of this”

What are they referring to though? What did Hiccup do that Astrid didn’t also do and carry out? Yeah, Hiccup ultimately changed his perspective, but Astrid did too. She told Stoick not to hurt Toothless, she defied Stoick’s orders, she led the gang to save Berk —all things only OG Hiccup did. Not saying she didn’t do anything in the OG, but having Hiccup be the only one to do these small details made it more powerful imo. Then it really emphasized how much he’d changed in the OG. I’m prolly harshly criticizing lol, but uh, I thought Astrid was kind of given Hiccup’s arc in the LA.

Astrid’s a great character, and I’m not saying she shouldn’t have any aspirations like that. But it does change key components to the formula of the movies. In a way, it makes sense she wants this for herself; I just don’t see it as necessary if she is chief in the end too. Like the woman was betrothed to the man when he became chief, of course she’d have inherited the role anyway! But we’ll see how this plays out in LA HTTYD 2. Hiccup is really going to have the excuse to leave. He’s taking no responsibilities to a new level lol.

I’m just afraid that in order to still have Hiccup be chief, (if the LA wants to follow that) they might bump Astrid down, and I don’t think that’ll look right. Like somehow Astrid —a woman— is going to have to be nerfed for the man to get his title back —someone who doesn’t want it and isn’t being pushed to work for it? Unless they’re bold and stick to Astrid being promoted at the end of HTTYD 2… But like, plot wise how the heck will that happen if Hiccup gets it by default bc Stoick dies? Oof there’s so much Dean DeBlois is gonna be changing.

I’ve only seen the movie once, and I blanked out a lot comparing both lol. So forgive my ignorance if I forgot something.

I rambled omg but that’s the biggest thing I can’t stop thinking about. People say the core of the movie was the same, and it was to an extent, but who wants to be chief is a HUGE change imo. DeBlois said big changes will be made to HTTYD 2, and surprisingly I’m open to that bc HTTYD 2 wasn’t paced all that well and it’d be cool to see Hiccup a little angrier at his mom.

Still, I see the LA characters as completely different people lol. Hiccup is just Mason Thames in a wig (when the kid has the perfect Hiccup hair anyway, so why ruin it lol)

TLDR, a little review of the LA as an OG fan who studied every aspect of HTTYD.

What was the point of astrid wanting to be chief in the live action? she never expresses that sort of desire in the original animation.

although it gives her more personhood than just the love interest to hiccup it also could set her up to be a female character giving up her dreams so that her lover could pursue the goal she always wanted. giving major “she gives up her powers and decides to start a family” at the end. tired of this trope.

they’re gonna have to pull something really unexpected to make this work in the sequel (which there will be, #profit), hiccup spent a long time in defenders of berk and rtte growing into himself and learning how to feel like he’s enough for his fathers standards. making astrid chief would steer the movies off course and it would no longer be a live action remake but a completely different set of movies. idk. i’m open to discussion if anybody wants

[teh-nos]

this morning i started writing a thorki au and it has already committed the following sins: modern au; thor & loki not being related; blue-collar thor while loki is posh. but i don't care because the whole concept is stupid and tailored to my very specific demands and there is as ever a good chance i will never make any real progress on it anyway. ha ha. ha haha. so there.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatching 13s era for me is not so much diminishing returns as it is something opposite and eviler...............increasing losses? increasing losses

[chatonmagique]

I'm discussing neurodiversity with a friend and she actually suspects she has adhd. I might have all the experience of adhd but who am I to judge right? But the thing is.. she has such strong qualities in area's that are challenging for people with adhd. And I feel like her definition of disorder because she is so balanced and organized in everything she does is on a whole different level. Like she is used to following through in her calculated choices and sticks to her habits more then almost any person I've known and it really sticks out to her when she doesn't. And her definition of I might have adhd is "I've always been dreamy and get distracted by my own thoughts when I'm supposed to be paying attention when someone is talking" Which IS a hallmark of adhd. But I can't feel help but feel.. misunderstood? Because I feel like she underestimates what it means to actually live with adhd. And it's such a fundamental aspects of my life that I know she'd be damn good in masking and overcompensating most adhd symptoms if she had it. I feel a little stupid for letting me bother it, but it still does? Maybe more because she is a close friend of mine.

[kaythefloppa]

I really have no context or reasoning behind this, but rapid-fire headcanon: Tinker Bell was the one who built Bucky.

[fushitoru]

seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I’m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene." 

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in. 

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers. 

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!” 

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up. 

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under. 

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck. 

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry 

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless. 

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table. 

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond. 

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?” 

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage. 

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

sometimes I tell my parents things. often then i wonder why i even open my mouth. but when I keep it light I end up wondering why I can't seem to connect on any real kind of level. and I add another thing to the list for therapy

[magicalpuppet]

"Are you new here? I’m new too." What if the one she met wasn't Frank at all?

If somebody is interested in the madness “theory”, I'll put it right under here.

Keep in mind before continuing: this is straight up just a theory/headcanon, I'm gonna share it without any other purpose than having fun theorizing. I put some points you can follow, I am sorry this is gonna be long and crazy.

So, I believe the puppet Julie met could be...Wally.

This whole madness was caused by Julie's story in the video "regard forgetfulness silence"...

The memory The way Julie is speaking seems off to me, as well as the way she recounts her first meeting with Frank.

She "think" that's how she met him, isn't it strange she can't recall precisely how she met the dearest puppet to her?

We know Julie have difficulties with her memory, but she seems to remember stuff that happened when hanging out with Frank, why the most important moment is so unclear to her?

This could mean that she can't remember the interaction correctly and that her memories are being heavily corrupted by something or that the whole thing is made up by someone.

The encounter

Even the encounter is iffy, the puppet she met doesn't seems to speak like Frank Does.

"Are you new here? I'm new too. My name is Frank"

This speech pattern sound more similar to Wally to me.

And after that, she says that he made a corny joke and she laughed at it, we know that Frank is not really the one who tells jokes. Heck, he is not even good at telling them.

You could argue about Wally and jokes too, he's not very skilled at telling them after all, but I can imagine two scenarios: -Him speaking normally and not realizing he is saying something funny to her. (this could apply to Frank too)

-His best friend love to tell jokes and we know that Barnaby encourage Wally to chat and tell jokes to the Neighbors, it could be that noticing she was scared he tried to tell a joke to her.

The fruit basket

Okay now I am really looking into stuff, I know, but why would Frank bring a big fruit basket around? Julie says it's because he was going to say hi to her but we know the friendliest neighbor in the whole place is Wally itself. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to be the one going to say hi?

The fruit basket could also just be related to Wally going out into the woods to paint a still life since he is a painter.

“Was he mad?”

She was worried that "Frank" was mad at her when they met.

Strange, because Frank emotions are very easy to read, he's a very expressive puppet. We also know that when he feel a very strong emotion (like being mad) his head spins. Why she would question it? If it was Wally, his emotions are more difficult to read and it could be that she didn't understood his intentions immediately.

Wally itself

The fact she bring up Wally while recalling Frank's meeting is strange too. She says she met Wally the same day, why not meeting the whole neighborhood then? Maybe it was just them at the beginning and it would make sense in that case.

But Wally comes up at the end of the audio asking "Did all that really happen, Julie?" like he is asking her like all of that was made up or straight up incorrect.

Aaand I'm done! I'm not even sure any of this makes sense to anyone else, but it was stuck with me since the update and I wanted to draw it and share it.

Maybe it was Frank, maybe it was really Wally, maybe it never happened in the first place but... Everything sound too strange to be as the story says.

And don't get me wrong with all of this! I love Frank and Julie relationship a lot, I am not going against them in any way. I like to go deep inside the stories I am following and I speculate a lot about stuff! (Also I wanna apologize if my english is not the best, it's not my first language)

[okaylikeschaewon]

Chairs

~5k words, Roommates series

Finding an empty room to study in really shouldn’t be very difficult in a university of all places, yet here you were, roaming the hallways like a buffoon trying to find an alternative to the usual lounges you had been frequenting for the first few weeks of the semester.

In an attempt to avoid interrupting another class again, sparing yourself from the embarrassment, you carefully placed your ear against a door and tried to listen for anyone inside - this would be a lot easier if the stupid little windows above the handles weren’t covered up. After giving it a few seconds and hearing nothing, you decided to try your luck.

Slowly, you opened the door and took a peek inside. Turns out it was an office, and seemingly one for a newer professor, or one who simply didn’t care to decorate, based on the lack of vanity items on the barren shelf. One detail, however, did stand out to you; Realistically you should have just left at this point, but that Herman Miller was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - you had to try it, just for a second.

After closing the door behind you and placing your bag down, you walked around the modest little desk to get a better look at the chair. It was pristine. In a room devoid of most expression, you still felt a gorgeous rush of euphoria as you took a seat. It was truly shocking how a luxurious office chair made such a difference in the entire atmosphere of the room.

No longer did you feel like you were in some bland, secondary thought of a room. You had lucked out, this was exactly the type of room you were looking for when you set out to find a quieter alternative to your usual spots. Then, your luck seemingly got even better when you noticed a little calendar on the desk in front of you. 

Not that you were trying to snoop or invade anyone’s private space, but you noticed whoever used this room had nothing scheduled for the day, and a bit of basic deduction skills led you to believe this was his day off - luckily the room was unlocked. Seemingly he was a philosophy professor who also taught communications?

Still, you should probably have left at this point. Yet… for some odd reason you were convincing yourself to do something that you shouldn’t. Was there really much harm in using an empty office to study? It’s not like you’d be making a mess or anything, and you’d be careful to not break anything. Surely no one would mind, it would only be for a couple of hours before your next class anyway.

That’s when you heard a knock.

Your heart skipped a beat. Immediately your mind began racing to think of an excuse, some reason you were in here. Wait, if it was the professor, why would he be knocking? Wouldn’t he just come in? Presumably if you didn’t respond, they would just leave, right? That made enough sense in your head to calm you down, but just as your heart rate began to slow, the door opened.

“Hello sir!”

“H-Hello,” you stammered as one of the most adorable girls you’ve ever seen walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

“I was going to send an email, but I figured I’d try your office first,” she continued nervously. “It’s about the last assignment.”

God she was cute. At this point you were supposed to tell her that she had the wrong person, but you just sat there like an idiot and listened.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Yuna, I’m in your intro to philosophy class,” she stammered while fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “I know you probably won’t recognize me, and I promise I’ll start showing up to class.”

“Showing up?” you mumbled under your breath, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“I promise I have a good reason,” she added before locking the door behind her - a detail you barely picked up on - and dropping her bag. She walked over to you, right past the desk, until she was right in front of you. “If I had known how cute you were, I never would have skipped in the first place.”

Cute? If this girl thought you were her professor, this was quickly becoming incredibly inappropriate. Yet, your dumbass was still just sitting there and letting it happen. Was this wrong? Probably. But you were stunned in a sense, almost like you were being forced to play the role.

“So, how can I help you?” you asked while trying to keep your eyes away from her body, a difficult task considering how little she attempted to hide her figure with that tight button up she wore.

“It’s less about what I want,” she replied before crouching down in front of you. “And more about what you want.”

“Holy shit,” you mumbled as your eyes inadvertently landed on the unbuttoned neckline of her shirt.

“Professor, I really need some help,” she whispered as she leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re willing to work with me, I was worried at first.”

“Yuna, wait,” you replied sternly, bringing your own hands to your crotch as she placed hers on your thighs. This was straight out of a poorly written porno and had to stop. “There’s a misunderstanding.”

“I can tell you won’t get me in trouble, right professor?” she ignored you entirely. “You think I’m pretty, don’t you?”

“What? No that’s not- I mean yes you’re very pretty but that’s not what-”

“Do you want me?”

“Yuna, please listen-”

“If you don’t,” she whispered, slowly moving your hands away. “Then just tell me to stop.”

“I can’t give you what you’re asking for because I’m not-”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” she interrupted you with a smile. “I’m just doing you a small favor, and then after you can decide what you want to give me.”

Fuck’s sake why was she so hot, it was hard to think straight.

“That’s right,” Yuna continued with a whisper as she began unbuckling your belt. She reached her soft fingers into your underwear and pulled out your cock, gripping the shaft gently. “You get to decide exactly what you want to give me, and I mean it when I say anything.”

“Yuna, I…” you moaned softly as she placed your tip into her mouth and began swirling her tongue against your hole. “Fuck.”

“That’s better,” Yuna smiled brightly up at you while pulling your pants down to your ankles. “This is just some no-strings attached fun, right professor?”

She leaned forward some more and began sucking on your balls while the hand she had around your shaft tightened its grip. With both balls in her mouth, pressing them around with her tongue, she began stroking your shaft gently.

“Oh professor, I didn’t know you were so fucking big,” she moaned after releasing your balls with a little pop.

“Maybe because you’ve never attended class,” you replied for some unknown reason, as if you were actually her professor. It just felt like the right thing to say. No, it was dumb, you should stop her. This was all wildly inappropriate and would probably get you expelled. Or was it? You never even said anything, she’s the one who initiated. It was all just happening so fucking fast, your brain couldn’t make sense of the situation.

“I’m so sorry professor, I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

With that, she lifted herself up until she was right above your cock and opened her mouth wide. In a single movement, she lowered herself all the way down your cock until you felt your tip prodding the back of her throat.

Fuck.

Yeah, there was no stopping, not when Yuna started bobbing up and down your cock. She moved fast, throating your entire length each time, finally pausing just long enough to gasp for air and smile up at you, using her soft fingers to coat your cock in her saliva.

“I promise I’ll keep coming, professor, you can see as much of me as…” her voice trailed off and she engulfed your cock once more, all the way down to the balls before holding. She pushed as far as possible, her nose pressing against your skin and her chin up against your balls. Then, as quickly as she went down, she came back up gasping once more. “... as you want.”

“Yuna, this is wrong…”

“Then don’t tell anyone,” she shrugged, leaning back and slowly unbuttoning the rest of her shirt, revealing a bright pink bra. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave and we can pretend this never happened. Is that what you want?”

“I…” you hesitated, considering the options, but Yuna wasn’t as patient as you.

“That’s what I thought,” she smirked, opening up her shirt enough to put her soft cleavage on full display. “Now how about you stop thinking so hard and just relax. You don’t owe me anything for this, I’m just doing you a little favor out of the goodness of my heart.”

That was a fucking lie. You’d have to figure out a way to explain that you weren’t her professor - a problem that was definitely for later as Yuna leaned forward again on all fours and began licking up your shaft slowly. She would press her lips on your balls before sticking out her tongue and sliding it all the way up to your tip before wrapping her lips around it.

“You must be so tired, grading all those papers,” Yuna purred, bringing her hands up to your balls and fondling them while kissing on your tip repeatedly. “Just close your eyes and relax, this can be our little secret.”

Fine, you’d play along. You placed one hand on the top of her head before closing your eyes, letting her bob up and down your cock to her heart’s desire. It felt phenomenal, there was no denying it, she was experienced for sure. For the next few minutes, nothing but quiet slurps filled the small office as Yuna worked your cock expertly, sliding her tongue around and around, pressing down hard with her lips.

“Can you cum for me, professor?” she moaned, grabbing your shaft with her hand and stroking as fast as she could. “Please? In my mouth? I’ll be a good girl and swallow it all.”

“Oh my God,” you moaned softly, opening your eyes and looking through the blurriness to see Yuna with one hand playing with her tits while the other jerked you off.

She stuck her tongue out, licking your tip from time to time, hand still moving just as fast. Her half-lidded eyes staring up at you, begging for your release. It was working. You could feel the pressure building up more and more, you knew you were about to blow any second now.

“Please professor,” she cried out. “Cum for me.”

“I’m…” you grunted softly under your breath, shutting your eyes tight in anticipation, tightening your grip on her hair.

Then, in a flash, before you even felt it, your eyes shot open as the first streak of cum launched directly against Yuna’s lips. Like the expert she was, Yuna quickly opened her mouth and caught the next few spurts in her throat as she kept jerking the lower half of your cock while coaxing out your cum with her tongue.

“Good fucking girl,” you moaned, bringing your other hand to the back of her head and pressing down.

She barely gave any resistance as you pushed your cock all the way into her throat, unloading whatever was left as deep as you could. Even balls deep down your cock, she was still working her tongue, her lack of a gag reflex putting in work. As her face began turning a tinge blue, you let go of the back of her head.

Despite the resistance disappearing, she didn’t immediately pull back. Instead, Yuna made a tight seal with her lips and slowly inched her way up your cock, making sure not to leave a single drop of cum on your shaft. Once at the tip, she paused, looking up at you and swallowing whatever she had in her mouth before sucking your tip desperately trying to get more of your cum out of you.

“That’s all I got, sweetheart,” you gasped as the sensitivity began to hit.

Yuna finally let go of your cock and looked up at you with the brightest smile this world has ever known.

“Thank you professor!”

“Yuna,” you sighed as she stood back up and began sifting through her bag while you quickly pulled your pants back up. “I’m not your professor.”

The girl froze in her tracks, holding her laptop in her arms.

“What?”

“I tried telling you earlier, but you weren’t listening.”

“Who are you?” Yuna asked anxiously, covering her chest up.

“I’m a student,” you answered, diverting your gaze in an attempt to avoid making her uncomfortable.

“What the fuck are you doing in his office? And why… shit.”

“I’m really sorry, you just weren’t listening, I tried-”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Yuna shook her head and put her laptop down on the desk. “Can you at least help me?”

“W-What?” you stammered, trying not to stare at her tits.

“What the fuck do you have to be shy about,” Yuna rolled her eyes, immediately noticing your discomfort. “Here,” she added before lifting up her bra and flashing her bare tits at you, bouncing up and down a couple of times. “You already nutted in my mouth, I really don’t give a fuck if you see my tits. Now can you help me or what?”

“With what? Your assignment?”

“Exactly,” she answered before pulling down her bra and opening up her laptop. “This shit’s due tomorrow, I was hoping I could get out of it.”

Yuna turned the laptop to show you the assignment. Based on a quick skim of the rubric, it was simple enough - to be expected from an intro course.

“This doesn’t look too difficult,” you commented, scrolling through the meager attempt at a start. “Yeah, I can help.”

“Perfect,” Yuna smiled, suddenly taking a seat on your lap. “It’s due at midnight, I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“I don’t need anything,” you chuckled softly when a notification popped up on the screen. “Holy fuck who is that?”

“My roomie, you like?” Yuna giggled, leaning forward to reply to the message.

“She’s fucking gorgeous,” you commented in awe as you stared at her display picture. “Yeji… God damn, those eyes… and that body…”

“Alright enough,” Yuna snapped and began standing up, her jealousy showing.

“Hey,” you quickly pulled her back down by her hips. “You’re more gorgeous,” you lied.

“It’s whatever, I get it,” she sighed, rubbing her ass against your body. “I’d also fuck her if I could. Anyway, you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m good, really.”

“Nothing at all? No extra motivation?” Yuna asked, grabbing your wrist and placing it on her perfect handful of a chest.

“No,” you gave her tit a quick squeeze before letting go. “I won’t be able to type very fast with just one hand.”

“I can suck your cock again, if you want,” she added as she started grinding her hips back and forth.

“Yuna,” you grabbed her ass with both hands and held her still. “If you want me to do this, just sit tight and relax.”

“Fine,” she leaned back against your chest, her floral shampoo hitting your nose. “Just let me know if you need anything then.”

“Will do,” you muttered as you began typing away.

Truthfully, it would have been much easier without her sitting on your lap, but you figured that was a sacrifice you were willing to make. The next hour or so went by in relative silence as you typed away while Yuna watched diligently, making sure not to distract you beyond the gentle press of her body against yours.

That was until she fell asleep between your arms. She really was incredibly adorable, and for the first time since your breakup, you almost felt like you were in a relationship again. Very carefully, you picked her up and placed her on the small armchair next to the mostly vacant bookshelf. She was breathing deeply, her chest bouncing up and down with each one.

Without even realizing it, you were smiling. You reached forward and carefully did a couple of the buttons of her shirt to cover her up before returning to the Miller. Unknown to you at the time, she had woken up and noticed, but you were too focused on finishing the assignment for her, you were almost done anyway.

Another hour or so passed while you were completely focused, typing away diligently. Maybe it was stupid, considering it wasn’t even your assignment, but you were becoming quite proud of your work. You didn’t even care that you missed your class and that the sun had started setting outside, you had adopted this assignment as if it was your own.

“Done,” you muttered under your breath, leaning back in the chair and stretching your arms towards the roof.

“Your typing skills are truly incredible, you finished so quickly,” Yuna commented softly, making you jolt slightly as you forgot she was even there. “I wonder what else those fingers can do.”

“Thank you, but it’s really nothing,” you replied modestly, ignoring her last comment. “I’ve taken this course before, or something similar at least.”

“I never would have been able to finish this in time without you, there’s no way,” Yuna began leaning against the desk, facing you. “I really owe you for this.”

“No, you already kinda-”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Her words stung more than she intended as the memories of your ex came back. Not that it was her fault, obviously, but it still hurt.

“No,” you replied bluntly, unintentionally letting some emotion out.

“That’s surprising,” Yuna mumbled a bit shyly, perhaps picking up on your tone.

“What about you? Boyfriend?”

“Definitely not,” she laughed softly, almost as if to hide some pain behind her own voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Obviously,” you chuckled. “I think we’re well past that stage.”

“Why’d you…” she trailed off slowly, her finger toying with the buttons on her shirt.

“You fell asleep,” you shrugged, leaning back in the chair. “Felt like it was the gentleman-y thing to do.”

“Right, because my behavior definitely deserves gentleman treatment.”

“I didn’t really look at it that way,” you replied cautiously. “Regardless of circumstances, you still deserve dignity.”

“You don’t think I have dignity?”

“What I think doesn’t really matter,” you answered. “But no, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think I have dignity.”

Silence filled the room. For a few, stretched moments, you simply stared into Yuna’s round eyes, trying to understand this girl and who she was beneath the surface.

“Why do you feel that way?” you broke the silence first. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Yuna shook her head in frustration. “You know exactly why.”

“Yuna,” you began carefully. “I only just met you-”

“I swear I only did this because someone told me it would work,” Yuna cut you off. “And I wouldn’t have done it if I walked into the room and wasn’t attracted to the person I saw, seriously.”

“That’s fine-” you started before getting cut off once again, something you realized she loved to do.

“Like, I’m not a complete whore,” she continued. “Did I do it for personal gain? Sure. But I also wanted to. Is it really such a crime to be horny?”

“Yuna!” you spoke up firmly, standing up and grabbing her wrists. “You don’t have to explain, I’m not judging you for it.”

“Yes you are,” she muttered quietly after a pause.

“Believe whatever you want,” you shrugged and let go of her wrists. “Your assignment is done either way.”

“So why’d you actually help me?”

“You looked like you needed it,” you chuckled softly before pausing. “Truthfully? You reminded me of my ex.”

“Oh?” Yuna’s eyes wandered for a moment as she fixated on a spot of the floor. “In what way?”

“Well for one,” you stepped closer to her. You gently pushed her hair behind her ear before continuing. “You’re unbelievably pretty.”

She finally looked back up at you, a rosiness creeping onto her cheeks. “I appreciate that,” she smiled warmly. “Though I can’t imagine your first time meeting her was anything like this.”

“You’d be surprised,” you chuckled softly, leaning on the desk next to her, both of you facing the empty bookshelf.

“I have a hard time believing your first time meeting her involved head,” Yuna giggled quietly.

“Like I said, you’d be surprised.”

“You’re kidding?” Yuna gasped, turning to face you. “Well shit, now I don’t feel as embarrassed I guess.”

“I don’t think you should feel embarrassed at all,” you replied calmly. “Just like I said earlier, not judging you.”

“Then don’t judge me for this either,” Yuna whispered softly.

Part of you wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the kiss, you just let your body go on autopilot. It wasn’t a quick peck or anything, she pressed forward with real passion, pushing you backwards onto the chair again and straddling your lap. Your hands made their way around her body, feeling her gentle curves, the soft skin, her warm touch. Yuna’s mouth clashed against yours, her tongue growing more and more confident, teasing and intertwining with yours.

What really got you going was the touch of her hand on the back of your neck - that’s when you knew you were in trouble. You kept kissing, full of passion and lust, your hands rummaging around her top and unbuttoning it for the second time that evening before ripping it off and tossing it to the side, soon to be joined by her bra as you unclasped it.

Once her tits were finally free again, you let the kiss fade apart. Yuna stared at you breathily, awaiting your next move, but you weren’t going to keep her waiting long. After grabbing her ass with your hands, you stood up from the chair, holding her in your arms and gently placing her down on the desk. She quickly pushed aside her laptop before laying flat on the desk, looking up at you with a face full of carnal lust.

“Is this what you want?” you asked quietly while unbuckling your belt.

Yuna stared at you, her eyes more sensitive than you’ve ever seen, and paused for just a moment before answering.

“Yes.”

That was all you needed, and by the time you had your pants off, Yuna had already slipped off her underwear and bunched up her skirt around her waist. Before you, glistening and shining, as beautiful as you had imagined in your mind, Yuna lay there waiting - for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you muttered as you took hold of her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the desk. “Let me know,” you added gently as you lined yourself up.

She nodded up at you before closing her eyes, biting her lower lip just slightly as she tilted her head back, pressing her tits up towards the roof. You leaned in some more, your tip spreading apart her body as you placed your arms on the desk around Yuna’s small frame, pressing forward slowly. With utmost care, you inched yourself deeper and deeper, paying full attention to the way Yuna was contorting her expression.

Her pussy felt incredibly warm and comforting around your cock. Once you were nearly all the way in, you paused to simply revel in the feel of Yuna’s body. And of course, you wanted to give her a moment to adjust to your body.

“You good?” you whispered, leaning forward even closer.

Yuna opened her eyes and nodded again. It was like night and day the way her personality shifted from earlier. She came in so confident and in control, but now she had become completely vulnerable, completely comfortable around you. And in return, you felt immense comfort with her.

A wave of warmth rushed through your body as you leaned forward over her body and kissed her again. As she kissed you back, you began slowly sliding your hips back and forth, enjoying every inch of pleasure her pussy was shooting into you.

“You’re a living fucking dream, you know that?” you grunted as you softly pressed into her pussy again and again.

“Your dick feels amazing,” Yuna moaned, arching her back. “Fuck me, fuck me good.”

That was the plan. You pushed forward faster, inching yourself even deeper now. The deeper you pressed into Yuna’s pussy, the better it felt. Not only was your cock throbbing in pleasure, you were also losing your mind at the sound of Yuna’s gentle moans overpowering the sound of the desk sliding against the floor with each thrust.

“That’s fucking right,” Yuna sobbed softly, rubbing circles around her clit with her hand. “I’m going to fucking cum, don’t fucking stop.”

“Cum for me,” you grunted, taking two big handfuls of Yuna’s tits into your palms and squeezing.

“I’m clo….” her voice trailed off, leaving her mouth open and eyes shut tight in focus.

She couldn’t physically speak anymore, yet it hardly mattered. You knew, without a doubt in your mind, the way her pussy was contracting against your cock that she was cumming hard. Making sure not to change your pace, even as your sweat began pooling on your brow, you pushed and pushed, muttering filth that she probably couldn’t even comprehend right now, pushing through her new tightness.

Her pussy convulsed for a bit longer before the squeezing calmed, and all that remained from her orgasm was the heavy breathing that pushed your palms up every second or so. You also slowed down a bit, all the sensation bringing you painfully close to your own orgasm, realizing now how tired your legs were getting. Being so close to the edge, however, gave you all the energy you needed. Finally, Yuna had recovered, and she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms and legs around your body.

“Are you close?” she whispered directly into your ear.

After that, definitely.

“Do you want to cum on me?” Yuna moaned into your ear. “All over my face?”

“Yes,” you gasped back, focusing as hard as you could on your hips thrusting into her pussy a few final times before you pulled out - you were unbelievably close now.

“Good,” she purred before quickly jumping off the desk and turning you around as she sat on the chair. “Cover me in that cum.”

Before you could start stroking, Yuna had already grabbed your cock. This girl was like fucking magic, the way she jerked you off with her mouth open wide, eyes staring into yours, her hand was doing better than even you could do. She moved as fast as she could, squeezing hard against your cock, fondling your balls with her other hand. You rode the absolute edge of your orgasm, just to get launched over your limit as Yuna stuck her cute little tongue out and prodded your tip a couple of times, sealing the deal.

“Ah!” Yuna gasped as the first hefty gush landed on her forehead, splattering into her hair. “Fuck yes,” she added with a moan as she adjusted your cock.

The next few moments happened so fast, in such a blur, you could barely comprehend what was happening. All you knew was your cock felt fucking amazing as Yuna jerked you off. In front of you, once your vision cleared up, Yuna’s face was completely plastered in white, barely any actually making it into her open mouth.

“Fuck!” you squealed as Yuna shoved your cock down her throat. “Please!”

She pulled your cock out of her lips, smiling brightly up at you, that smile that you could stare at for the rest of your life.

“Aim better,” she giggled, using her pinky to scoop a glob of your cum off her face into her lips.

“Alright, let’s try again.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Yuna smirked before suddenly pouting. “It’s in my hair, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you quickly pulled out some tissues from your bag and handed them to her. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she sighed, pulling out her phone to use as a mirror. “Thanks again, for the assignment.”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied as you got dressed. “Thanks for… yeah.”

“Any time,” Yuna giggled softly, wiping her face clean.

“Here,” you held her bra out for her.

“Thanks,” she accepted the garment. “But no, really, any time.”

“Are you suggesting-”

“Yes.”

“Yuna, I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship yet.”

“Oh, no,” she quickly clarified. “I didn’t mean like that, trust me I’m also not ready yet. I just meant the sex part, and maybe also the homework part.”

“Friends with benefits?” you picked up her panties. “Have you ever had one before?”

“No, but I’m down to give it a shot with the right person,” she answered softly. “Have you?”

“Yeah, mine actually just graduated last year,” you chuckled, reminiscing about your past. “Look, if you’re serious, then I’m down. But I want you to think about it first, it can be kinda dangerous.”

“I’d agree with you if we knew each other before,” Yuna replied. “But we just met, I don’t think feelings will be an issue.”

“Right,” you tried to hide your skepticism. “Alright, exclusive or no?”

“I’d say no. Thoughts?”

“Fine with me,” you held out her panties. “But then no jealousy allowed.”

“Keep them,” Yuna winked up at you before standing up. “And of course not, no jealousy.”

“Yeah?” you placed your hands on her hips. “Even if I fuck your roomie?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Yuna whispered into your face before spinning you around and pushing you onto the chair. She had already straddled your lap before whispering her next words. “Fuck me again and I’ll set you up with her myself.”

“Deal.

---

A/N:

Short and quick little piece I wrote in a couple of nights. I had always planned for Yuna to be in the Roommates universe, I just can't remember what inspired me to write it all of a sudden. Truthfully not the most edited and reviewed fic I've ever written, oh well, enjoy!

I really hope it's not too confusing (not that you need to read the other fics in the universe, the whole point is that you can read them independently). This is supposed to take place in junior year, and there are a few references to some of the other fics in this universe, some foreshadowing I guess.

I wouldn't expect another fic for a bit, I really don't have much time to write lately. I can, however, give some insight on what I'm currently working on: Dating Seraphs next part soonish (my priority rn), Exchange next part, Roommates Kazuha part 3, Roommates Eunbi part 2, Roommates secret unnamed idol part 1, unnamed actress stand alone fic, and also a stand alone MiSaMo fic (this one might be my next post, I'm like 8k words deep already). There are a couple others currently on the back burner that I haven't forgotten about as well.

Long ass A/N but I haven't said much to my readers in a while so fuck it. Like always, feel free to throw feedback at me, I try to read it all. I probably can't be convinced to write more, but if you're desperate for one of the fics I listed above then feel free to plead your case and I'll probably prioritize it. Take care you lovely people.

[muntitled]

Housewife Blues

Pairings: Terry Richmond x Housewife!Reader

Summary: Operation making a baby

Warnings: Language, Traditional Gender Roles, Controlling!Terry, Daddy Issues, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Controlled Orgasm, Unprotected Sex

A/n: Reader literally calls him Daddy. Please don't read this if that's not your vibe.

When your days weren't spent caring for your home as an active military wife, you engaged in reading, crocheting, baking and positively, actively avoiding the southern housewives that haunted your sunny cul-de-sac. Terry knew you'd much rather be doing things alone when he was at work.

This woman was intruding on your alone time.

"We've got to stick together!" the woman had said, her voice dripped like her honeycomb hair haloing her head. You wouldn't have willingly opened the front door had you known she would be lurking on the other side. The amicable smile that was on your face was cracking.

You initially thought it might be your husband, come to surprise you, knocking off from work earlier than usual. All throughout the day, you had been eager to see him.

He had left you in quite the state this morning.

"Faster," he had commanded in that mahogany veneered voice as he watched you try and fail to give yourself even a sliver of the kind of pleasure you were used to. He liked watching you struggle to take your fingers that were far too small, nothing like his large, skillful hands that would drill into your cunt when you needed it to.

"Why are you slowing down?" He enquired calmly, his head leaning against the headboard as he watched you try to please yourself in order please him to the best of your abilities.

You were seated between his legs with your legs spread open. The only contact established between you two was your ass pressed against that bulge straining his boxers. If Terry was a lesser man, he'd forget that he was trying to teach you a lesson about coming without permission. If he wasn't so deeply wired with self control he mightve said fuck the lesson and pulled his cock out to slide inside your weeping cunt.

But he wasn't a lesser man.

And no matter how hard he got, he loved watching you struggle to make yourself cum.

"M'sorry okay?" Gone was the trace of bratiness in your tone. All that was left was a little girl's pathetic whine and even that made him harder.

"M'sorry, I wont cum without your permission again-" you craned your head back. Your cloudy hair moved across his chest as you met his eyes, "Please help me," you hoped eyes displayed your desperation. Even if that weren't enough you knew your next words would be. "Please, Daddy-" he made a sharp intake of breath and you knew you had him.

"I need y-"

"I need to go to work-"

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as the man behind you moved to rid himself of you.

"What!? You're just going to leave like that?!"

"Who're you talking to?" He had asked so calmly, with his head tilted, corralling you into absolute silence.

"I-"

"Give it' till this afternoon," he wasn't a complete monster. He kissed you on your forehead, making you feel whole even for a split second before ridding himself of you once again.

"Can you be good for me until this afternoon?" You loved when he did that. You loved when he spoke down at you, as if you weren't sporting numerous degrees. As if you weren't a fully autonomous woman.

You liked the break he gave you from thinking.

"I can." You had said. Completely determined not to touch yourself until he arrived home.

All day, your brain had been fuzzy with thoughts of him. 'The dangers of being a housewife', your best friend had called it. He was consuming your every thought. Your mind was plagued by images of him inside you. Your mouth. Your cunt. Your mind.

You had no time for this. Not time for her.

"We?" You reiterate with your head slightly tilted as you lean against the door you were itching to slam shut in her face. "We should stick together?" You asked it as if hoping to make sense of how in what world a woman like her and a woman like you might ever be classified as 'we'. In front of you stood the seemingly perfect example of a nuclear housewife. Poodle puff golden hair, bright eerie smile and a body that could reproduce, seemingly at will.

"Yes!" The blonde woman said, "Us wives of veterans, we need to stick together-"

"Oh-" you were in the process of shaking your head, "I- don't really see myself as a product of Terry's-"

"I think we should have a little meet up tonight! We'll wrangle up the husbands and the kids-"

"I've got no kids," You said so curtly it could've given anyone a harsh chill.

"You and Terry have no children?" Judging by the look on her face you could swear you've just admitted to some form of bio terrorism.

"No kids?" She nodded gravely. Far too gravely. "H-How interesting, well. That's okay! I'll just call our babysitter- She's a lovely girl. Hopefully you find someone like her when you and Terry finally get to it-"

"When her and Terry get to what?" You hadn't even heard that roar of the truck easing up the driveway, your mind had been far too plagued with images of your childless marriage to really pay it any mind. But you're very much of him now as he appears behind that stupid little housewife.

Like Pavlov's dog, your body and all its machinations react to the sound of Terry's voice alone.

The gravel that seemed to roll in his esophagus. The way he dwarves the woman taking up your precious time. He had finally come home, but here you were, being occupied by your neighbors, dressed in nothing except a tight fitting night dress.

"Oh Terry!" The woman said, hoping to steal his attention, despite his eyes remaining fastened on you, "How lovely to finally meet! I was just telling your lovely wife we should all have a family meet up- she informed me that you two don't want kids?"

"Have-" You said so quickly, "I said we don't have kids. Not that we don't want any."

Without sparing the woman another glance, Terry strolls past her. His large bicep squeezes you into the frame of the door as he walks up behind you but you don't mind. In fact you suddenly feel calmer in his shadow. Your nerves are both calm and set alight as he moves his heavy arms around your waist.

"You explained yourself?" He bends down, his lips pressed against your ear, "You didn't need to do that." Your mouth stammered open as the woman by your doorstep pales.

"Well- I was just enquiring-" the woman attempts to salvage the situation but Terry’s already pulling you into the house.

"We'll come back to you about the dinner-”

“We could set a date right now and-”

“Excuse me,” Terry says, “We gotta go make that baby we apparently don't want-” you catch a final glimpse of that woman. Her mouth stammered open.

Terry's leading you towards the couch and you follow him, your fingers wrapped around his pinky. You swallow heavily watching his back muscles contract.

He's so big.

So in control.

It has your mind swimming in the pools of subspace as he lowers his frame to the couch. He pulls you into his lap and you yelp as the skirts of your dress fan around his lap.

For a moment all is quiet.

You evade eye contact and he tries to hide his smile as he forces you to interlock your hands behind his neck while his titan hands meet around your waist. You were quite literally trapped.

“That woman probably isn't going to talk to me again after that little display of yours,” you mumble lowly and he chuckles softly as he brings his nose to the crook of your neck and he breathes in.

“Try not to sound so pleased about that.”

“I have to make friends, Terry-” your breath stammers when you feel his pillow lips open up until he's pressing his tongue to the sensitive skin by your neck.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asks and despite his words holding that usual sliver of control, you can feel the slight eagerness to his actions. His steadily hardening cock straining through the front of his jeans and his restless hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress.

“No, you told me not to.”

“I've told you not to do many things,” he presses another kiss to your temple and you breathe in rather sharply when his fingers reach your inner thigh. “Sometimes you don't give a shit about what I say.”

“I promise I didn't touch myself,” it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your mind descended into lechery as his fingers inched up your thigh and you opened your legs slightly. “Honest.”

“Should I check the cameras?” Your body tensed ever so slightly and for someone as observant as Terry was trained to be, you knew he spotted it.

“We have cameras?”

“You think I'd just leave you in this hick ass town alone throughout the day and not have cameras in the house?”

“Oh- well-”

“Doesn't matter if you touched yourself, does it?” Your breathing swells as his fingers finally connect with the seat of your panties. He adjusts himself underneath you. You're absolutely soaked.

“No one can make you cum like I do,” He whispers, sliding your panties to the side, “Not even you.”

Your eyes grow hazy as his fingers begin to play with your aching cunt. It's everything you've needed and more.

“Say it-” You're teetering on the edge of a complete mental check-out as his fingers rub your clit. You squirm on top of him, searching for the seating position that would let you grind down on his hand but he keeps you still.

“Fuck-” he groans and for a split moment, you're nearly close.

Until he pulls his fingers away and you're once again whining and squirming with no sense of relief.

“You can't just-”

In a series of fluid and swift movements, Terry moves you off of his lap. Your back hits the couch as he hovers over you.

“what're you doing-”

“You thought I was kidding about making that baby?” He asks, so incredibly serious as he undoes his belt buckle and all you're able to do is lay supine and take whatever he gives

According to your family, everything about Terry Richmond had been a seemingly blood red flag: from his overtly frightening countenance, to his slightly unnerving marine status.

He is nothing but menacing as he hovers above you, parting your legs before reaching inside his jeans.

“You're squirming too much,” he says, “You want the cuffs?” Your throat dried with the recollection of the previous tike Terry had slapped his cuffs over your wrist. He had quite literally used your cunt to milk his cock and there was nothing you could do about it.

Despite loving the memory, and the sharp thrill it shoots straight to your clit, you wanna touch him, and you tell him as much.

He groans before lowering himself towards you.

“Shouldn't I take off-”

“Keep the dress on,” he lifts your hips before spreading your legs, for a moment he gets lost at what he sees There underneath all the pink frills and tulle.

“I'm going to get you pregnant,” he promises before lifting his eyes to meet yours, “Any objections?”

He's not smiling. His eyes are deep and hypnotic and you move your hips as if so incredibly needy to take anything he gives.

“No objections,” You shake your head and your words die in your throat when you feel your panties be swiped to the side once again. Terry's restraining himself. You can see it in the veins popping out of his neck.

You're not sure why.

“Green or Red?” His Eyes lift to meet you and you can feel the head of his cock press against your tight opening.

“Red,” you respond. “You can be rough- i just need y- FUCK-” he thrusts inside you, bottoming out almost immediately.

You didn't need any prep because you were already soaking through your underwear but your cunt still fought To bully his cock back out.

“Th-That hurts-” you grit your teeth as he begins to thrust shallowly inside you, despite having already bottom out. It's like he's searching for somewhere deeper to go and you both groan out loud at the thought.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” He watched his cock slides back out completely before slamming it back in and you yelp at his brutal intrusion. It fulfills something ravenous in you, the way he lowers his hand to the side of your head before fucking into you with wreckless abandon.

“So fucking tight-”

“Fuckyoursobig-” your eyes are hollow and Terry knows from your slurred speech that you were fully in subspace.

“Shit- you tryna make me cum already, huh?”

Your bottom lips portudes and you look up at him, nodding dumbly, “You wanna be a good slut for your Daddy, don't you?”

The second he locks his thick palm around your throat, and you wear his hand like a collar, you're absolutely done for. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts and your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

“Such a fucking slut- shit-”

“Yo-Yours,” you moan, “Your slut-”

He immediately stills his hips before cursing aloud. Terry's lips crash down onto yours. A hungry kiss you weren't expecting but eagerly reciprocate.

“My pretty slut,” he nods his head in affirmation. patting down your head as if you always knew what to say. “That's right, baby.” You're bathed in the praise. You fucking absorbed it. “That's right, Clever Girl-”

“Oh my God, Daddy- please,” you lift your hips, urging him to continue drilling into you.

“You're such a good girl for me-” he continues to affirm as his hips move once more, “You gonna take my cun, aren't you, Pretty Girl? You gonna make Daddy proud and give him a baby-”

“Terry, ohmygod-” you can feel your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Ask.” He can see you teetering on the edge but his voice is dark and commanding. “You know better.” He warns. “Ask.”

“Please-” you search to hold onto something, anything that would stop you for cumming outright on your husband's cock, “Please let me cum, oh my god-”

He speeds up his own thrusts. Unbeknownst to you, your eagerness to take him, your whining and begging had him twitching inside you. It's like you became a vessel of his pleasure alone. You were good at that. You were good at making him the center of your universe.

“Cum for me, Pretty Girl.” It's all it takes for you to let yourself go completely. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Terry squeezes your throat, sending you flying amongst the clouds. You curse and scream and your cunt is suffocating his cock until he can't handle it anymore.

“Gonna cum,” he affirms, his voice tense and his muscles tight, “Gonna cum so fucking hard inside my Pretty Girl-” even he had his limits. Soon he wasn't able to say anything. His words bled into uncontrollable groans as he trusted a steady stream of cum inside you.

You're patting down on his tense muscles, urging him to part with every single drop.

You're full.

So utterly full it has you seeing stars.

“That ought'a do it.” He says.

He’s nice Terry again.

[carriesthewind]

WOW.

Okay, after a night's sleep, I have decided that yeah, there is value in responding to this absolutely steaming pile of ignorant, self-centered, self-important, anti-intellectual, b.s.

It looks like a number of people in the notes were swayed, at least to some degree, by this garbage, so I think it is worth trying to show why it is nonsense.

(Also it's possible I'm still spoiling for a fight after being denied an evidentiary hearing on Friday.)

I'm not reblogging the post because folks don't need a self-aggrandizing tantrum on their dash, but I do think it is worth taking a look for yourself, in order to practice your analytical skills. Some questions to consider as you read:

(1) What is OP saying in her original post? What claims is she making?

(2) How, if at all, does the poster respond to claims OP made? What claims is the poster saying that OP made? Do these match what OP actually said? If not, (a) what techniques does the poster use to transform what OP said into the claims the poster is claiming OP made? (b) What rhetorical purpose does it serve for the poster to warp OP's claims?

(3) What affirmative claims is the poster making? What evidence or arguments do they provide to support their claims? Do they explore any of the specifics or real world implications of their claims? If not, what real world implications of their claims can you think of?

(3) What other rhetorical techniques does the poster use to bolster their argument? Do these techniques actually enhance and support the substance of their argument?

(4) Relatedly, how does the poster play into the biases of their assumed audience (tumblr users with generally progressive policies). What claims do they make to play into those biases? What evidence or argument, if any, do they make to support those claims? Are these claims by the poster reasonably related to the claims made by OP?

Now, let's explore their response in detail!

(Also obviously don't harass the poster, and I would recommend not directly engaging with them at all. Harassment is vile and makes you far worse than them. And earnest engagement is unlikely to be productive - the OP tried to engage with them politely (and even offered to help) in the notes of poster's original post. In response, the poster (1) implied that OP is an obsessive rude busybody. (2) Told OP to "Shhhhh. Chill." (in response to (paraphrased), 'hey, the advice someone else gave you is probably a waste of time and effort'). (3) And finally, after condescendingly telling OP, "Breathe. Practice radical acceptance. Know that I am here on the other side of the internet, flagrantly wasting my effort and thinking of you every second of that time," proceeded to prove that they were, in fact, "thinking of [OP] every second of that time" by searching OP's blog to find this post by OP and dumping this Arrested-Development-level demand to be taken seriously in the reblogs.)

(All of which is to say: hi, poster who was "being vagueposted about." I assume you are reading this, because you demonstrably don't have the good sense to block and move on. I'm not going to block you in advance, because I think you have the right to make your own terrible decisions, and I suspect any response you make is going to be *very* funny. See you in the notes!)

So, let's go through the poster's response, paragraph by paragraph.

They begin by doubling down on the stance that, "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." This, they say, is their defense of that stance. Let's see how it goes - but first, I think it's worth remembering, OP's original post is literally a single sentence long.

OP's claim, paraphrased, that the claim that "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor" is incorrect and anti-intellectual. If we read the OP's tags, she clarifies that enthusiasm is valuable, but different from expertise.

The poster starts their defense with a long...explanation that the structure of their claim was a reference to the Arthur C Clarke's third "law" (read: sci-fi fiction adage).

*deep breath*

Ok. I'm a big a fan of wordplay as the next person. And I know from personal experience that it can be really frustrating to do some fun wordplay to make a point, and then get misinterpreted here on tumblr.com.

But. The wordplay has to make a point for it to be relevant to your defense. OP's claim wasn't "this poster did a bad job with the linguistic structure of this sentence and is not familiar with classic sci-fi." How does the "rhetorical structure" of the poster's claim support the substance of their claim???

It doesn't, is the answer. The poster explicitly asks this question later down, but then they never actually answer it. Instead, the rhetorical effect of this whole digression is just to throw out surface level references to things (Arthur C Clarke! "AI"!) that might make the poster sound more thoughtful and knowledgeable. It also creates distance from OP's actual point - as the post continues, the poster has to remind us what they're talking about. This gives the poster more control over the narrative, over what claims are under discussion.

Which leads to the poster's next paragraph: the unanswered question of why the poster structured their claim to resemble a sci-fi author's famous quote, and a baseless attack on OP.

And I think it is worth really lingering on this attack on OP. The poster claims, OP perhaps is "misreading or misinterpreting" the poster's point. But what on earth is the poster talking about? OP literally just quoted the poster's exact words and then said that they think this is anti-intellectual. What "misreading or misinterpreting" is being done?

No. Instead, this attack rhetorically sets up the poster's next couple paragraphs: not actually defending their claim as OP originally quoted, but reinterpreting their own words, providing their own special unique meaning that they will then proceed to use for the rest of the post. They are redrawing the rhetorical bounds of the conversation. Rather than defending their stance, they are redefining their stance so that it matches the defense they now want to make.

(Which is still bad. It's a bad defense and it makes me very angry.)

The poster proceeds to define "academic rigor" in a way that just means, "enthusiasm." Notice how no part of their definition includes things like critical thinking skills, building up a knowledge base, testing ideas, receiving criticism (wow I wonder why), or any expertise or action to build up and test that expertise. It's just what a person "cares very much about," how much "curiosity" they have; some inherent quality someone who "NEEDS to know." (Also hit the bell for another surface level reference - this time to Herodotus - to make the poster sound more knowledgeable.) If you actually read the poster's definition, it is entirely "idk vibes i guess."

Now, having defined "academic rigor" as enthusiasm, they successfully declare that enthusiasm is a necessary precondition of enthusiasm.

And then, we get the best paragraph of this entire tantrum of a post: "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor. It's like a fractal -- the closer you look, the more complicated it gets." No only is this another attempted surface level reference, this time to fractals, but just. What is this supposed to mean. At a glance, it seems like it kind of follows from the last paragraph - maybe, the more an enthusiast looks at something, the more there is to know? But the closer you look at this sentence, the more nonsensical it gets. What does things getting more complicated the more you look at them have to do with academic rigor (either a real definition or the poster's enthusiasm-based definition)? More importantly, what does it have to do with proving the point - that enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor? (You might as well say, "the further you fall down the rabbit hole, the deeper you realize it goes," except then more people would realize you are expressing straight conspiracist reasoning oops.)

Now, several paragraphs in and having firmly taken control of the rhetorical boundaries of the argument, the poster finally decides to provide some context to the original statement (and needlessly insult OP for trying to be helpful again).

The poster correctly quotes relevant parts of the discussion (although mischaracterizes their own responses as "polite" instead of "incredibly condescending and rude"). However, the poster then immediately characterizes OP's response as "muddied." Because words have objective meanings, however, we do not need to accept this characterization. OP expressed her argument very clearly. Rather, it is the the poster who claimed that OP was making an argument that she was not, which we can paraphrase as, 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' It would be convenient for the poster if OP was making this argument, because it could be easy to argue against. But since OP clearly stated that she does not believe this clearly incorrect thing that the poster made up in her head, the poster claims that her response was "muddied."

The poster emphasizes this false claim in the next few paragraphs. They say, "to me she seems to be arguing that one MUST (?) receive formal training at an academic institution ("academic training" "trained expertise") in order to achieve that level of rigor." But OP simply doesn't say that. You can look at the reply the poster quoted, it doesn't say what the poster says it does.

Now, this is speculation on my part, but I think the poster really believes that OP is saying 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' I think they believe this because its how they feel when they hear the (correct) statement that enthusiasm does not equal expertise. The poster repeatedly says that they think that enthusiasm for learning is the same as expertise. They throw a tantrum after receiving the slightest, politest, disagreement. They think someone giving them advice that hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts is a busybody who is obsessed with lecturing them. The poster simply, demonstrably, doesn't believe expertise is real, and refuses to admit that someone else might know more or better than them. If they "care very much about getting it right," how dare you say they aren't as good as anyone with "academic training," fuck you very much you elitist jerk.

This sense is emphasized by their next paragraph. First, they shift the rhetoric framework of the conversation again. The actual claim the poster says they are defending is that "any sufficiently Deep Enthusiasm is indistinguishable from Academic Rigor" (emphasis added). Now, they are claiming that OP means that no one outside of an academic context "has the capacity to learn what rigor means in their field." These are very different claims, but the poster shits between them seamlessly.

Second, they just completely misunderstand what academic rigor is. I'm sorry, you can read every book and article and (*sigh* dear god) TED talk in the world, that doesn't make you an expert, and that's not academic rigor. A large part of academic rigor is in how you critically engage with what you read. Otherwise you just end up, at best, with a bunch of shallow facts that you can "whip out at dinner parties to impress [your] acquaintances" or sprinkle as references in arguments on tumblr to make you sound smarter.

But no, the poster confirms in the next paragraph, you don't need critical thinking or training or people who will tell you that you are wrong. All you need is the information. And if you disagree, you are arguing in favor of "the ivory tower." (Take a drink.)

In the next two paragraphs, the poster pays lip service to the idea that sure, it's easier to learn in academia. But even then, they imply that somehow that's the easy route, that good learning environments create weak men, that people who are self-taught are the ones who are actually building up the critical thinking skills because someone doesn't just "tell them the answer."

Then, before the readers have a chance to absorb, wait, did you really just say that academia is really just having someone either tell you the answer or where to look for the answer and therefore unsuitable for "sincerely love to learn," (because you are, in fact, anti-intellectual), the poster then throws in a bunch of shallow buzz phrases about how higher education isn't available to a lot of people.

And I say these are just shallow buzz phrases for two reasons. First, the poster never actually engages with this lack of access. It's just sprinkled in, like the references to Arthur C Clarke and Herodotus. (For example, no, actually, "any sufficiently MOTIVATED person" can't actually access all this information that is online. You need a stable internet connection, devices to allow you to make use of that connection, to speak or read the language those materials are published in, enough time and sleep and food and goddam shelter.)

Second, this doesn't actually have anything to do with the actual claim that the poster is supposedly defending. Remember that? Remember the position the poster is arguing for? "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." How does, "some people can't go to college" support that claim, specifically?

It doesn't, which is why the poster's next paragraph instead claims that OP is arguing that "those people do not have the ability to hold themselves to a rigorous standard of learning."

Which just.

Fuck you?

Because yeah, that would be a shitty opinion to hold! And you are the only person raising it! You are explicitly making the claim - fuck, perpetrating the anti-intellectual worldview - that anyone who suggests "caring about something does not inherently equal subject matter expertise" is an elitist who thinks that everyone else, ordinary people, real Americans, are stupid.

I'm gong to be honest, this is the part of the poster's claims that made me mad enough to respond.The notes include people agreeing that academics and "experts" are actually pretty elitist, aren't they, and they deserve to be "taken down a few pegs," that suggesting that you need a baseline level of knowledge or vocabulary before you can engage deeply with a subject is "gatekeeping."

The U.S.'s institutions are crumbling as they are dismantled by people that are making these exact same arguments. There is no meaningful difference in the reasoning of the poster's argument here, and the argument that "alternative medicine" hacks who never completed their medical training have sufficient credentials to run goverment agencies, and that if you bring up their lack of credentials, well, that just proves what an elitist you are.

The "worldview" the poster does not accept - is telling you not to accept - is the idea that expertise exists at all.

And because that is an incorrect and harmful worldview, the poster has to use a bunch of rhetorical tricks to hide what they are doing. And then to sell it, they throw in a bunch of words to stir up the audience's preconceptions and biases. OP's claim (again, that enthusiasm and academic rigor are not equivalent) is "racist and imperialist." Why? Don't worry about it. Something something college is expensive and inaccessible to a lot of people. All you need to remember is that these ivory-tower academics are The Bad Thing.

*deep breath*

Anyway, knowing we need a laugh to bring the mood back up, the poster then says someone on reddit criticizing your argument is an "informal version[] of the peer-review process." Besides betraying a deep ignorance of the nature of peer-review (I guess even knowing how academic processes work is also elitist?), I think this means that the poster has to be cool with my post here, right? Because I'm just doing peer review? (Because also, just to be clear: "the academic structure of the peer review is a formalized process of the very human impulse to gleefully tell other humans when they’ve stuck their foot in their mouth." No. This is just. No.)

Next, more misstating OP's original claim. The poster says, "An institution of formal learning is not a prerequisite to pursue and absorb information," which OP already agreed with in the comments of the poster's original post.

In support of this claim that no one is arguing with, the poster than makes up a "guy at the model airplane shop who seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes," and asks, "why don’t we acknowledge him as a legitimate expert?" The poster implies that this is because this guy is autistic and OP is a bigot.

But the real answer is simpler:

Unless you are referring to something you chose not to link for some reason, he's made up. He's a made up guy in your brain. And OP never said anything about him, so it's really weird for you to criticize OP for not sufficiently praising him as an expert. Fanfic isn't reality.

To the extent we are talking about real phenomenons - who do you mean by "we" and what do you mean by "acknowledge him as a legitimate expert"? There are lots of people with legitimate expertise, and in my experience, they often are recognized as such. And I don't know where you live, but outside of revenge-fantasies of conservative pundits and the people who are mislead by them, most academic experts aren't exactly exhausted and prestige and praise.

'Knowing a lot about a subject' is not the same as academic rigor. This isn't a criticism or insult to people who know a lot of things, despite your weird, self-centered hang-ups. Let me be clear here, actually: I am not an academic. I am a lawyer. I know a lot about the law in the areas I practice in. I do not practice the law "with academic rigor" because that's not really meaningful. I also like to constantly learn more about the law, including in many areas I don't practice in. I am not an expert in those areas. Just as an academic who studies the law and legal practice would not necessarily be good at actually practicing the law, my enthusiasm does not mean I have academic expertise (and my academic training is rather rusty, this many years out). This is normal? My ego is not threatened by acknowledging different kinds of expertise and knowledge exist?

And perhaps most to the point - "seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes." "Seems to." An important part of academia - part of what makes it rigorous, if you will - is that you actually have to prove your expertise to other experts. They are then "recognized" as experts because there is a process the public can usually trust that they don't just "seem to" know what they are talking about. If you are talking to an amateur enthusiast - how do you know you they actually have the expertise they claim to have? Because I know of some guys who are really enthusiastic about the, claim to be experts, and have a lot of strong opinions about how they have reclaimed their Sovereign Identity by not capitalizing the letters in their name.

I agree with the poster's final paragraph. I love learning. But I can't see this as anything other than a manipulative postscript, a rhetorical trick of ending on a point of agreement and mutual enthusiasm. By a person - and I can't emphasize this enough - who refused assistance in learning and threw an enormous tantrum because someone suggested hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts.

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.