#because she creates from the arbitrary

[apollos-boyfriend]

this is like. all fully speculation. but i was rewatching some of jaiden’s nuzlocke videos, and them combined with a recent clip of hers i saw talking about how she’s not even sure why quackity chose her for the qsmp made me connect why he might’ve picked her. because like. i think nearly everyone was a bit shocked, if not confused, to see her on the lineup. despite having been in the scene for a while—her first public animations were for ihascupquake, after all—jaiden isn’t your first thought when you think of minecraft youtubers. as far as i��m aware, she was on one smp before the qsmp—epicsmp, and we all know how that ended.

no, jaiden isn’t who you’d think of when you think minecraft youtuber. but she is who you’d think of when you think storyteller. which, yeah, is kind of obvious. there’s a whole subcategory of youtube for animated storytellers, and jaiden’s been one of the front runners for years now. but the thing about jaiden specifically is that she doesn’t just tell stories. she shapes them. you can really see that the most with her animated nuzlockes. she’s given scenarios and events that are largely random and arbitrary, fully just game coding and out of her control, and she turns them into her story. her platinum nuzlocke specifically highlights this with the giratina, two jaidens storyline she creates to explain her resetting the run and attempting the elite four again.

live mcrp HEAVILY relies on having to go with the flow of the game, and learning to work around in-game mechanics and limitations to create a storyline out of. things that are story-important, like pets or npcs, are fragile and can be taken away at any moment, be it by a mob, glitch, or player error. you have to be able to think on your feet to not only work around it, but create a narrative to explain that decision fitting into the canon and story instead of just taking it at face-value. and that’s exactly what jaiden’s been doing for years now with a lot of her gaming-based content. quackity would need people accustomed versatile storytelling as much as he’d need people accustomed to survival minecraft itself, and jaiden is nothing short of an expert at her craft

[labyrynth]

genshin fans really will be like “i can excuse child combatants but i draw the line at young-looking adults”

[ree-duh]

The thing with Taylor swift releasing her billionth version of the same album now with her shitty voice notes is that even if you ignore the clear dirty tactics she’s using to try and block other artists from receiving any recognition for their work so she can hold onto some arbitrary number… she’s kind of just forfeited her right to be considered their peer because her work no longer holds artistic value because she has rehashed her already imo mediocre music so many times they no longer have anything to say like you see a lot of swifties say she’s a businesswoman but last I checked creating art is kind of her job and if you have to keep releasing the same thing over and over again for two months to remain relevant you aren’t very good at the one thing people are paying you for

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie V

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~5.9k words

From me: this is almost entirely a filler episode.

Warnings: fluff. nauseating fluff. Jealous MC. Cute vulnerable moments.

Summary: Harry is determined to break her walls down even if he has to do it slowly.

Harry didn’t force her to move out (yet) even though he wanted her to. But he spent a lot more time on the bad side of town now that he beat up Kael. Michael ogled over the pretty car he left with her. “If you don’t sleep with him, I will,” he muttered around a drag of his cigarette when she first parked it in front of their building.

“Get in line!” Marc shouted from the doorway waiting for her to enter.

She rolled her eyes. Fortunately, Harry was a few minutes behind her, so he didn’t hear their crass thoughts. “Great game, man,” Michael nodded.

“Yeah! You were close to getting a shirt-trick!”

Harry chuckled, putting his hand on her lower back as she covered her eyes. “You’re embarrassing me, Marc. It’s a hat-trick.”

“Close enough,” he shrugged.

“It’s not—”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry laughed and nudged her forward cutting her off from rebuking Marc. Harry liked the guys in her apartment well enough, but he wanted her to himself in the privacy of the apartment that smelled just like her. In whatever way he could have her, which meant just being friends.

When they got to her place, she went to her dresser and pulled out a set of clothes and headed for the bathroom without another word. Harry looked through the photos spread on her counter. The same ones from her series that she was already insisting on would never be.

He looked through the other photos too. The ones on the fridge and wall (his still centered right above the water and ice dispenser) her talent was incredible. He heard the shower turn on and then the door opened immediately. “Do you want to shower?” She asked tossing her clothes in the hamper. Instead of her normal rink outfit, she was wearing a pair of leggings and T-shirt.

“With you? Of course, Rookie,” he didn’t look up because he knew that line of thinking was dangerous, and he didn’t want her to get mad at him. She snorted.

“Go,” she rolled her eyes with a sigh. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek sloppily. “Gross you’re all sweaty!” She shoved him.

“Manly,” he tugged his sweatshirt off and tossed it at her.

While Harry showered, she busied herself making tea and organizing items for tomorrow. She knocked on the door to give Harry a set of sweats he left the last time he was over. “Y’joining me?” He asked excitedly.

“Leaving clothes for you to change in to,” she opened the door briefly and set them on the sink counter without looking inside.

“Break m’heart, Rookie,” he sighed and continued showering.

She shook her head with a smirk. Harry was funny, adorable, sexy, and sweet in a way that should have been illegal because it was just not fighting fair. She wasn’t going to fall in love with another hockey player. Not one that was one of the top names in the league. Instead, she admired the pictures she took of him. How handsome he looked, the defined jawline, the way his hair curled with sweat. His smile, the dimples. “Hey Rookie, do y’have deodorant in here?”

Oh God, this was too domestic. She should have suggested driving to his place. At least there she had her own guest room to create a boundary. Albeit an arbitrary, dumb boundary that did next to nothing. “In the drawer beneath the sink,” she answered.

She shivered slightly in her freezing apartment but refused to turn the heat on. She grabbed the sweatshirt on the back of the couch to put on over her T-shirt. The tea was almost ready, and Harry exited the bathroom. He came around silently and tugged the hem of the sweatshirt. “Looks nice on you,” he mumbled and smoothed his hand down her back. She didn’t realize she had grabbed the very sweatshirt Harry had tossed at her. She shivered again and stepped away from him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His smile was anything but innocent.

She shook her head and elbowed him out of her way, before heading to the couch with her cup of tea. Harry followed her with his own cup of tea. He pulled her legs into his lap, placed a blanket on top of them, and then ran his hand up and down her shin. “Y’know, Rookie, y’don’t have t’make all these boundaries. M’not going t’push you.”

“They’re for me,” she reminded him and focused on finding a show to watch before she inevitably fell asleep on the sofa.

“I know,” he sighed and sipped his own drink. His hair was still damp, and his soft curls fell a little awkwardly around his pretty face. “But m’not gonna hurt you... Would rather die than hurt you,” he gave her leg a squeeze.

“I know,” she mumbled.

He grinned. “Good. M’glad y’know that. That makes me happy.”

With the show selected, she set her tea on the coffee table and shifted in her spot. “I think the Wolves might be the most chauvinistic, most terrible team in the league,” she reached for a throw pillow, rotated until her head laid in his lap. He put one hand on her side and rubbed it gently.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She yawned and sighed. “You smell good.”

“S’your deodorant,” he reminded her.

“I know, that’s why you smell good.”

He chuckled, shook his head, and sipped his tea again.

*

The team took up the entire airport bar. Or at least most of the team. Callie and Asher were among the hungover from the night before, so that group stayed at the gate with their eyes closed. They were within view of the bar so at least there wouldn’t be any issues, and the rest of the team could jump at a moment’s notice to help them out. She was seated beside Lang and showing him the pictures she took of last night's game. They were heading back home after a three-day stint going through a series of away games in the same vicinity the first. The guys were exhausted from traveling and only getting to a hotel for no more than one night at a time. All that travel, with all their stuff, was exhausting. She was exhausted too. A lot of the media posts needed to be out each night by a certain time. Submissions for the news outlets had to be in by midnight for the following morning. She felt tired and hadn’t even strained her body the way they had. As such, she didn’t have a drink at the bar, merely some coffee to try and get her mind to work a little faster for the plane trip home.

She sat on one leg to lean over Lang while looking at the photos on her camera screen.

“Hey Sweetheart, do you want a drink?” Niall called a ways down the bar. She shook her head.

“Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure? Harry’s buying!”

“Oh yeah?” She smiled and looked at number eleven with a grin. “Lose a bet?”

He rolled his eyes. “If y’want a drink m’paying,” he shrugged. She wondered if he would pay for her just because (even if he didn't lose a bet)

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Her head snapped up unwillingly. A pretty girl stood beside Harry’s seat. She had long hair that didn’t have a single strand popping off her scalp in a mess of frizz. Her smile was stunning, practically blindingly beautiful. Her makeup was flawless and expertly applied. She didn’t look exhausted from days of travel. She garnered the attention of every pair of eyes on the team.

Including hers.

“Oh... hi,” Harry said standing quickly. “Do y’want t’sit?” He asked.

Her chest flamed with jealousy. She looked back at her camera and sat on the seat hoping to make herself smaller beside Lang. Thankful for the big hockey player beside her and he blocked most of the visual of their interaction. If only Callie and Asher were sitting beside her too so she wouldn’t have to hear them talk. Although she imagined even if they were around her making their jokes, they too would have been stunned to silence by the beautiful woman sitting by Harry.

“He doesn’t like her,” Lang murmured quietly in her ear. She felt a flare of hope warm her body. Then the doubt took over, she shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged hoping her voice didn’t betray her with how shitty it felt. In an attempt to distract herself further, she put her camera back in the bag. “He’s not mine.”

Lang snorted, then chuckled under his breath. “Sure Sweetheart, sure.”

At that moment her phone vibrated, which supplied her with the distraction she needed from feeling like shit watching Harry. Do you want me to boot and rally to flirt with you? Make Harry jealous?

No thank you, Callie. That seems like a bad idea. For a lot of reasons.

I do nt meed to rhrrow uyp. I c sann f;lirt. with yoou righht n ow. I kjust ca nt open m. y eeyes m. uch.

Thank you Asher, that’s alright. It’s not a big deal. He can flirt with whoever he wants.

You know he WANTS to flirt with you, right?

She didn’t respond to Callie because it was just making her grumpy to think about it. “Hey Sweetheart, are you still going to the little convenience store? Can you grab me something to read for the flight?” Niall asked. She was too tired to think about moving but she was grateful for another attempted distraction. Harry was clearly engrossed in his conversation with the pretty woman. At least he was kind to speak quietly.

“Yeah, I was just going,” she stood up and reached in her purse to pay for her coffee. “It’s all set, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her. He took her camera bag off her shoulder. “I’ll watch this with my life. Just go,” he winked.

“Thanks Cap,” she smiled.

“Ugh, Styles is a lucky man,” he grumbled as he hoisted the bag on his shoulder.

She scurried away feeling infinitely better as she walked further away from the pretty woman and the equally pretty hockey player. There was no right to feel jealous. Harry wasn’t her boyfriend. He didn’t owe her anything. He could talk to any woman he wanted, and it didn’t have to affect her.

But it didn’t mean that it didn’t affect her.

She was looking at books for Niall hoping to find something she would want to read in case he didn’t like her fake selection. Then she moved onto the snacks looking for a way to eat the emotions she was feeling. Stupid Harry and his stupid pretty face. She couldn’t even blame the woman because Harry was so pretty it seemed inhumane to not flirt with him. She was the weird one. Not letting him in and not letting him be her boyfriend because why? She was stubborn. Didn’t want to get hurt again.

Harry wouldn’t hurt her, right? Not intentionally. Granted she never really imagined Kael hurting her either. Not cheating on her, anyway.

The exhaustion was getting to her. Her mind spinning aimlessly trying to make sense of her own thoughts seemed next to impossible. Harry was handsome, charming, talented, and overall perfect. Of course, a woman he knew would flirt with him because he was in town. They didn’t have a game the next day, maybe he would stay.

“Rookie.”

She continued looking at snacks, picking up the chocolate covered pretzels that were so overpriced she wouldn’t have gotten them even if she was starving. But her jealous heart wanted chocolate. “Oh hi,” she mumbled. “Do you want something?”

“No, Rookie,” he came over to her and put a hand on her back. It felt warm and safe, and she practically melted into his touch instantly. “Are y’alright?”

She nodded. “Course. I’m just tired.”

“Are y’sure?”

“Why would anything be wrong, Harry?”

He pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Y’got up in a hurry.”

“Mm... well, the flight’s going to be boarding soon. We should probably get back actually,” she turned for the register.

“Rookie,” his voice was gentle.

“Anything else?” The cashier asked.

“That’s it,” she tapped her phone to the payment kiosk, but it declined. Of course. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the ceiling. Pain behind her eyes started to ensue. From unshed tears or a coming headache, she wasn’t sure. Either way she sighed deeply, hoping the ground would swallow her whole.

“Here, I have it—”

“Harry, stop it.”

“Rookie, just let me pay for it so we can go back—”

“Forget it,” she abandoned all her items and headed back for the gate.

“Rookie, Jesus!” He shouted. She was already half way back to the gate before he caught up to her (the bag of items she left behind surely paid for by him in hand). Some of the team was already boarding. She grabbed her camera from Lang without so much as pausing and cut the front of the line (not that anyone minded), and headed down the tunnel to the plane. “Rookie, stop it,” he grumbled.

Callie had a seat open next to him, his head resting against the wall beside the closed window and she flopped into the seat beside him. He opened one eye briefly and smiled. “Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Get out of this row,” Harry snapped. His voice was closer but slightly out of breath. He must have been hustling down the boarding bridge and she felt bad because sure, she was mad (not even at him) but he was tired too.

“Harry, I’m not—”

“Not you. Callie, get up.”

“Harry, he’s not feeling wel—”

“He’s fine. Calloway.”

“Styles, I’m going to throw up,” he moaned.

“And she’s not taking care of y’the whole flight. Get up.”

Callie groaned and hauled himself out of the seat into another empty row a couple seats behind. Almost instantly, she tried to get out of the row but once Callie passed, Harry blocked her. “Sit down, Rookie,” he ordered.

“Quit being so bossy—”

He didn’t move. Eventually she sighed, and Harry waited until she was seated in Callie’s now empty seat. Harry sat beside her almost triumphantly. She fiddled with her seat settings and air settings all while ignoring Harry. “Rookie,” he said sweetly. “C’mon Rookie, talk t’me.”

“About what, Harry?” she rubbed her eyes. “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. Just let me sleep on your hard, uncomfortable shoulder so I can complain more when we land.”

Harry sighed, shook his head. “Here’s your bag of stuff,” he plopped it on her tray table.

“Thank you,” she mumbled and sorted it quickly. She tucked the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels that she knew she put back before Harry got there into the back of the seat in front of her. “Niall,” she called quietly.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” His voice came from in front of her and she tapped on the shoulder of the person in front of her.

“I think you’ll like that one,” she told him as the book was passed forward.

“Sounds good, Sweetheart, thank you!”

She had no idea why he was thanking her when he was the one that had her go get the book as a distraction from the jealousy she was feeling. She ignored Harry’s stare, warm on the side of her face while she got settled. Harry put the neck pillow around him and pulled a blanket from his carry-on before clipping himself into his seat.

The pair of them sat in silence during the safety demonstration and the takeoff information. She gripped the arm rest tight as they took off and Harry gently pried her fingers from the plastic and cupped her hand in his. Softly he squeezed it and brought it to his lips to give the back of her knuckles a kiss. Her heart softened and she felt idiotic for feeling so jealous. Tears pricked her eyes overwhelmed with too many emotions that didn’t make sense, all exacerbated by how tired she was.

Quietly, she sniffled. So softly that she didn’t think Harry had heard it even though her head now rested on his muscular shoulder that wasn’t like a pillow at all. The hum of the plane’s engines surely drowned out any emotion she was feeling and therefore any noise she was making. But after a moment, Harry carefully coaxed her head down until her ear rested against his heart. The arm near her draped around her and his lips brushed softly against her earlobe. With the other hand he pulled the neck pillow from him and dropped it to his lap to keep her propped up.

“Rookie,” he hummed quietly into her ear. “I don’t like her. I would never want t’make y’jealous. Y’know that. I cut all that stuff off,” he reminded her. “M’sorry you were upset. I was only being polite and nothing more. M’sorry we’re both tired,” his voice was so quiet and warm. It ached her in a way couldn’t describe all over her tired body. “You’re the only woman I think ‘bout, Rookie. Y’have nothing t’be jealous of whether we’re a couple or not,” he promised. “M’gonna wait as long as y’need,” tears spilled from her eyes because his reassurance was so sweet and so unnecessary. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve some hot hockey player to denounce all women for her. They weren’t a couple, and he shouldn’t have to worry about making her jealous. She sniffled a little louder. “Don’t cry, Rookie. Y’breaking m’heart,” his other hand found her cheek and brushed his thumb along her skin until it wiped away a tear or two.

“She was so pretty, Harry.”

“You’re beautiful, Bunny.”

“She doesn’t look poor.”

“Money isn't anything.”

“She looked like she belonged with you.”

“You are the one I want.”

Her lip trembled and she tried to keep the tears from breaking out further into a loud, noisy sob that would make the whole team wonder what was happening to her. “Go to sleep, Bunny. I got you,” he promised quietly. His fingers combed softly at her hair and not even the thought of her uncle seeing her snuggled in Harry’s lap was enough to move her from her comfy spot.

“I won’t have anything to complain about if I don’t lay on your shoulder,” she whispered, covering the small sniffle with her words.

Harry chuckled. “M’sure you’ll find something t’complain ‘bout, Rookie.”

*

It was a rare weekend that the team didn’t have any games. It was the perfect weekend for working a double at Louis’ on Friday and Saturday. Friday went off without a hitch, she made great tips, the guys kept her entertained, and she didn’t feel utterly exhausted when she got home at two in the morning.

Harry came in on Saturday right around four when the second half of her shift was starting. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys were having a watch party of the games or something.” She quirked an eyebrow at him and scanned him briefly as he was dressed much too nicely for The Locker Room.

“Come with me,” he smiled and tilted his head toward the exit.

She snorted. “Very kidnappy of you, Styles. I’m working,” she rolled her eyes delivering drinks to the table in front of her. “Not all of us have a talent that makes millions of dollars a year.”

“Harry Styles,” the man at the table gaped as she set the drink down.

Harry waved and nodded at the fan but continued following her. Harry chuckled. “I already told Louis m’taking you.”

“But the tips tonight, Harry. I won’t—”

“I will pay you myself, Rookie. Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Why are you dressed like that? It’s not game day.” He glanced down at his all-black outfit. Button down, suit coat, slacks, and shoes. “I’m not going on a date with you,” she said.

“I’ll go!” A woman called from nearby. She huffed out and rolled her eyes. Harry chuckled at his favorite jealous lady.

“Don’t remind me, but s’not a date, Rookie. Jus’ come with me. S’a surprise.”

“I can’t go in this uniform.”

“If y’make more of a fuss y’won’t have time t’change. M’trying t’get y’home with enough time t’put on something more upscale.”

“I don’t have upscale clothes, Harry. Not anymore. I had to sell most of them.”

Harry figured as much. When the team had fancier events, she had one dress that she wore, it was stunning and made her look like a princess. It was a royal blue that made the flush of her skin look utterly intoxicating, but as such it didn’t take long for Harry to notice it might be the only dress she had for fancy events. “I bought you something.”

“Well, now I really don’t want to go.”

“You’re a piece of work, Rookie,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Can y’jus come with me?”

She paused slightly at the bar as she got a tray of water situated for the next table. “Is it super expensive?” She asked, leaning against the bar.

“I got it on sale—almost killed me. I was told I could return it even if y’wear it,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“What color?”

“Black, so we match. And everyone will know you’re with me.”

“You’re possessive,” she shook her head. But her cheeks felt warm knowing how much she liked the idea.

“Only ‘bout you, Rookie,” he winked. “C’mon.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and helped her out of the seat. The dress fit her perfectly. It didn’t quite touch the floor and hugged her like a second skin. She was gorgeous before she put on the dress. There wasn’t a word to describe how she looked with it on. Harry was nearly speechless as he handed his keys to the valet, and they approached the building. “Styles,” he told the man at the door. He checked them off a list and were ushered inside.

“What is this?” She asked.

Harry shrugged and held his arm out for her to take. Fortunately, she did. “Jus’ something I saw, thought y’would want t’see,” he steered her toward the entrance to the room on the right of the entry way. A line of people meandered as they walked into the spacious venue. A man at the threshold offered them each a glass of wine, Harry handed one to her and then held his own.

“Is this... a gallery?” She blinked.

“Yes,” he smiled. “I saw an event for it on Instagram. I figured we had the night off,” he shrugged.

She smiled. “That’s really sweet, thank you Harry. This is nice,” she admitted and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Harry was grateful that she liked his surprise. “I think I’m not quite up to snuff. My hair and makeup should have been a little bit... more done up for this place.”

“Y’look perfect, Rookie. Seriously. Prettier than all the art on the walls,” he winked at her. She laughed softly and shook her head at him. “Tell me ‘bout the stuff y’see. I like art, but m’not sure what m’supposed to be seeing,” he murmured to her.

Harry could feel her grinning beside him. She was so pretty in her element. She was gorgeous all dolled up, but Harry really did prefer her in his jersey. Or even her regular rink outfit. That’s where he thought she was prettier than anything else. “Another lesson?” She asked.

“Think y’owe me one for the skating lessons, yeah? I know how t’make hot chocolate now.”

“You can see whatever you want to see, Harry. That’s the beauty of art. It’s individualized.”

“Yeah... but I know there’s supposed t’be a purpose—artist intent or whatever, right?” He may have Googled some lingo over the last couple days in anticipation of taking her. She smirked.

“Yes...” she smiled. “Alright, but you have to tell me what you see before I give you the lowdown,” she shrugged.

The place was filled with beautiful art. Photos, paintings, sculptures. There was a multitude of media and an abundance of people. There was a quiet humming from people milling about. If Harry received any stares from being recognized, he didn’t acknowledge them. For a while it was just the two of them, eating small yummy hors d’oeuvres, sipping wine, and giggling quietly about the artwork.

“What’s your favorite so far?” She asked.

As the night wore on, Harry continued to fall harder and harder for how passionate she was about all things art. The way she spoke about photos, color, angles, and perspective had him in awe. She was so interesting. Undeniably knowledgeable. The way she viewed a painting in multiple ways at once was fascinating.

“Oh, I don’t know, Rookie. There’s so much talent here. M’not sure I could choose. What’s yours?”

“I loved the beachscapes over there,” she tilted her head toward the other side of the room where a series of photos capturing the same spot of a beach over the course of a year lined a section of the wall. “The beach is so pretty.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Are you hungry for more than these little bites?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Always, Rookie. Y’don’t have t’kid ‘bout that.”

She smirked. “We could stop and get takeout on the way home?” She offered.

He nodded with a smile. “Are you having fun?” He asked.

“Tons, thank you. This is really lovely.”

Harry smiled proudly. “Y’know, Rookie, love, y’should work in a museum giving tours.”

She smirked sadly. “It doesn’t pay well, but that would be the dream. Or to own a studio,” she shrugged.

“A studio,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Something for people to create. Host gallery nights like this,” she sighed dreamily. “My family was a little skeptical of my art degree. I’m in my suffering artist phase right now,” she explained.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again but before he could respond his name was shouted from across the room. “Harry Styles!”

“Even at an art gallery with people who mostly know next to nothing about hockey, there are people who know you,” she shook her head in disbelief and sipped her wine. Harry chuckled, took her hand in place of it remaining on his arm and tugged her alongside him.

“Mr. Howard,” Harry nodded. “Pleasure to see you,” he used his freehand to shake. “This is my friend, Charlie’s niece,” he gestured introducing her and she was surprised to hear him say friend. She figured Harry was apt to make a girlfriend joke. But she didn’t recognize the man so perhaps he wouldn’t have taken kindly to Harry’s antics. “Mr. Howard owns the Polar Bears team,” Harry explained.

“Nice to meet you. You’re having a great season. I thought it was a shame Ray and Charlie didn’t steal Damon Winters before you got him in the draft. He's going to do extremely well over the next few years,” she said sweetly, releasing Harry’s hand to shake as well. However, the second she let go of his hand it felt twenty times colder than the ice rink and she regretted it. Harry couldn’t help it, he smiled with pride of his cute crush who knew so much about hockey and looked like a model. She was the entire package and Harry was lucky to be standing beside her.

The older man chuckled his eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ll be sure to tell Charlie all about how he should have you on the scouting team the next time I see him... I figured you must be the star of the show,” the older man smiled sweetly. “We were just discussing who was going to go home with your work.”

She tilted her head and blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, Mr. Howard, you must have me mistaken with someone else. I don’t have work in this show.”

“So modest,” he smirked. “Harry, you saw it, right?”

“Uh... yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly and put a hand on her lower back, the warmth returning instantly. “We hadn’t made it over t’that side of the show yet,” he smirked. She turned to look at Harry, in utter surprise.

“What are you—”

“Oh, I won’t spoil the fun, then. Nice to meet you, love. Harry, try not to take out my whole team next week,” he smiled and sauntered the other way.

“What’s he talking about?”

“Oh, who knows,” Harry shrugged.

“Harry, stop it. Seriously.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie.”

“What did he mean my stuff was in the show?”

Harry sighed and sipped the last of his drink. “I may have... submitted your hockey series.”

“You what?!” She pulled away from him and turned so they were looking at one another head on. Her eyes were wild but beautiful. Her face froze in surprise. “Why—how did—when...? Harry! What did you do?”

“Well, I did see this gallery on Instagram. I reached out and asked if they were taking submissions. They said it depended on the quality, to be honest. It’s not exactly amateur hour here.”

“Harry my stuff is amat—”

He ignored her and interrupted before she could finish her incorrect thought. “I sent a couple from the series and they immediately wanted to put it up,” Harry continued. “S’no big deal. Y’had it all numbered, I jus’ needed t’print it and put it in frames. I brought some of your extras too because they liked the idea so much. Then I jus’ invited some people I know in the league.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “Harry...”

“Are you mad?” He asked in shock. “Rookie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t’upset you. I jus’ wanted t’show y’how talented you are. But y’won’t take m’word for it. Thought if y’saw how much people loved it that didn’t know you, y’would believe me. Believe in yourself.”

“Where is it?” She whispered. Her eyes turned glossy, and Harry felt like shit for making her upset.

“Rookie, I’m sor—”

“Where?”

“It’s right over—” He gestured vaguely to the left of the room. She marched over in her pretty shoes. Harry followed after her feeling like a dick for doing it without her permission. In his head, she was going to be overjoyed. Happy. Harry sucked at predicting her emotions. This was almost as bad as making her unintentionally jealous.

“Charlie is lucky to have a talented niece like you on the team to take pictures like this,” was the first thing he heard as he approached.

“Are you selling this? It would look great in the entrance of the rink.”

“The Chargers should pay you more.”

“Do you want to come work for The Titans? We’ll pay you more.”

Behind the Bench from Behind the Lens was typed neatly in bold and on the frame to the left of the group of photos that constituted as her series. The eye followed it naturally, from the locker room to the empty rink, to the pile of ice. The scoreboard. All of it flowing beautifully like it was a dance.

She thanked everyone for their compliments. She gave out her number, happy to sell her pictures. Each person barely noticed Harry’s presence as she networked and looked at her photos in awe. “Charlie couldn’t make it?” Mr. Howard asked.

“It was a spur of the moment decision,” Harry shrugged finally reminding the people he knew from work of his presence.

“Oh Harry, I forgot you were here,” he chuckled. “She’s talented, hmm?”

“Extremely,” Harry put his hand on her back again as he gushed proudly over her. Not that it was his job to do so or his right, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing so. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m not really an art gallery kind of man, but my wife happened to see the pictures you sent and said they were stunning,” he smiled. “You’ve got quite the eye, love.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice full of gratitude.

As soon as Mr. Howard left, Harry caught the arm of a caterer. Before she could ask him more questions about how he got her work in the show. “Excuse me, Miss,” Harry asked the waitress carrying a tray around. “Would y‘mind taking a couple of pictures for us?”

“Of course!” The woman smiled taking Harry’s phone. “These photos are stunning. Did you do them?” She asked.

“She did,” Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her toward him. “Smile, Rookie. I know y’don’t get in front of the camera much,” he smirked. The waitress was kind to take several shots of the pair of them. It felt nice to hold her like she was all hers. He enjoyed making her feel like she was a star because she was.

After several photos and more praise from onlookers, the gallery was finishing up. As everyone started to leave, other artists were taking their items off the wall. Harry stood beside her, gazing at her work as they had looked at everyone else’s. “Tell me, Rookie,” he whispered softly. “What are we looking at?”

She swallowed. “Um... You first.”

“I see love in a sport that’s violent.”

“Love is pretty violent sometimes,” she whispered back.

Harry turned to look at her as she gazed at her own photos. The awe on her face was priceless. Harry wished he had his own fancy camera to capture how perfect she looked. “Love isn’t violent, Bunny. Maybe the way it feels inside is violent. But love isn’t supposed to be violent.”

“You put pictures in an art gallery for me,” her eyes filled with tears. She put a hand to her chest. Her pretty elegant chest draped in a black fabric from a dress that Harry bought for her (on sale) so they could match and because he knew she would hate an expensive one.

“I think you’re incredible, Rookie. Should be earning millions for your talent,” he was certain he could watch her for the rest of time. “Look how talented you are,” he put a hand on her shoulder.

She turned into his chest, sniffling and crying into her hands against his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she croaked.

“Don’t cry,” he chuckled. “Aw, Bunny, this is a good thing!”

“Harry it’s so sweet,” she wiped her eyes. “So supportive. I never—” her voice cut off and she sucked her breath in shakily.

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Harry knew what she meant. She never had the support Harry was offering. The frames had to have cost hundreds of dollars. The time to put them all up had to have taken up some of his precious time from hanging out with the guys along with who knew how many emails he sent to get the owners of hockey teams and media specialists out to this small showing.

Harry cupped the back of her head and leaned forward to press his lips to her ear. “Rookie, I believe in you. Always,” this was easily one of his favorite ways to hold her. Even though it only happened while she cried. And she had only cried on the plane where he got to hold her like this as well. She didn’t cry often, but his strong girl letting the tears flow every now and again made him feel happy she was willing to be vulnerable with him. “Did I do okay, Bunny?” He asked, she could hear the smile in his voice.

She nodded and smiled sadly. “Pucking perfect.”

--

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[crueltyserpent]

When she introduces us, she’s either my girlfriend or my mom. She’s neither of course, she killed my mom and my girlfriend so long ago at this point. Sometimes I think she chooses whichever she thinks will make me more uncomfortable; it’s not like whoever she introduces us to will live long enough for their thoughts on it to matter. If I were to choose a name for what I am, I would probably go with captive. Victim also comes to mind, but it’s hard to feel like I’m the most victimized person in the room when she’s cutting off the fingers of a naked woman one by one.  At least she’s not making me eat them this time. The “here comes the airplane” bit with raw human flesh isn’t nearly as funny as she thinks it is.

If I guess why she keeps me around, why I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere like every other poor bitch who get’s her attention, I’d guess it’s because simply torturing attractive women to death every other day doesn’t fully sate her appetite for cruelty. Sure, her ability to wring physical pain out of a stranger is staggering, but there’s a special type of satisfaction she gets from the form of psychological torture that is only possible to inflict on someone she keeps close for an extended period of time. I don’t know if she chose me because something about me was uniquely appealing to hurt or she just liked how my dick felt inside her, but at this point I’m fairly confident she’s sunk too much work into messing with my head to casually replace me.

The woman bleeding out on the floor is the owner of the Air BNB we’re staying at, a chipper blonde thirtysomething who was now karmically paying for the fact that nothing in her life had ever gone wrong before. I used to vomit seeing a girl taken apart like this. Now it’s boring enough that I can sit on the bed reading a romance novel while barley acknowledging the poor cunt’s slowly decreasing number of body parts. This is an easy one, relatively speaking. I don’t really have enough emotional energy left to feel bad for well to do women a decade older than me who’d never give me so much as a smile if I weren’t a customer.

I call myself a captive, but it’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room if I wanted to, physically speaking. She wouldn’t stop me, she’d continue her ruthless execution and not even remark on me leaving. I was never bound (except for sex), never locked in a room, always free to go where I wanted. It had just been incredibly clear to me that if I ever made an attempt to do something she disapproved of, she could make my life so much worse than it already was as her unwilling partner in crime. One time she had left me alone for three months, letting me think I was free, only to return and kill every single person I had met and liked to any degree. I was trapped with her because she had created a situation where helping her murder people every few days was the decision I could make with the lowest innocent body count. And it meant that sometimes women like this died instead of the cute queer girls my age who used to blow me in alleys. Seeing someone I might have been friends with in a different life die was a whole different story to something like this.

I turn the page, working my way through a particularly arbitrary love triangle as I hear the death rattle. I don’t remark on it, but I’m not at all surprised when my bloodstained captor sits at the foot of the bed, looking at me with those hungry eyes. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is evil, the worst person I could even imagine who I would do anything to be free of.

She’s also probably the hottest person I’ve ever met. She was the first woman ever to be hot enough to make me cheat on my girlfriend, in what was either the greatest mistake of my life or the sole decision that kept me alive, depending on what would have happened if I turned her down. Her nude body sprayed with fresh blood is a powerful sight, and her toothed smile makes me shiver as blood rushes between my legs.

“Anything spicy happening in your book, honey?” She asked in a soft, motherly tone, her hands moving to undo my belt buckle. I hate how much her sexy mom routine works on me. It’s humiliatingly effective. I should be anywhere else right now, doing anything else, doing anyone else, but as she rides me, her other victims blood dripping off her chest over my face, I can’t do anything but whimper in enjoyment.

[yelsapo]

I honestly think this episode was meant to be confusing in a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland-ish way, where the loose ends won't/aren't meant to be tied up later. It's confusing and random, but that's the point.

Kate tells Ruby, "It's what we all do. We see something inexplicable and invent the rules to make it work."

And I think that might be exactly what Ruby does. Stick with me PLEASE

The premise of the episode opens with a superstition: a fairy circle. Something surrounded by stories and myths that don't necessarily make sense, and yet many people form their entire lifestyles around these belief systems because they explain the unexplainable for them.

The woman that follows Ruby appears to chase people away from her, or convince them to abandon her, which is clearly a common theme within Ruby as a character. She's afraid of being abandoned.

Typically breaking a superstition means that you're going to suffer some sort of misfortune as a result, right? If you were to break a superstition that you believed in (ie. ruining a fairy circle), what misfortune would you fear most happening to you? For Ruby, it probably centers around her fear of abandonment.

We know that Ruby is supernatural in some way. She's definitely not a typical human. She can make it snow on command? Who's to say that the "silly little explanations" that she makes up to make sense of her unknown don't ACTUALLY come to fruition. What if she has the power to do that?

So, let start from the beginning. Ruby and the Doctor break a fairy circle, an action which culturally means bad luck. In Ruby's mind, her worst luck would be to be abandoned by everyone, and to never find her birth mother in the end. And that's exactly what happens.

Roger Ap William is a name mentioned by the Doctor in the first couple of minutes of 73 yards. The only information that is given is that he was evil, welsh, and almost brought the world to nuclear destruction. That's all Ruby knows. Mad Jack appears at first to be some arbitrary name Ruby reads on a piece of paper, but is later revealed to literally be Roger Ap William? How coincidental is that? I don't think that Roger and Mad Jack are actually the same person. In fact, Mad Jack probably WAS just someone's dog. They were just two names that Ruby had recently heard, and then drew an imaginary line between. To further the point, Roger is SUCH a caricature. His only three personality traits are quite literally evil, welsh, and likes nukes, which is all the Ruby knew about him.

Throughout the episode Ruby finds herself in a situation that doesn't make sense, so she comes up with her own explanations to make them make sense. She invents her own rules and her own mission. She comes up with a string of tasks that aren't logical to us, but it's the explanation she has come up with given the information that she had. She's convinced herself that it makes sense. She starts to form her lifestyle around a belief system that she created because it explains the supernatural she is experiencing.

And because of whatever supernatural abilities surround her, she's actually making her percepetion of reality the REAL reality.

(Edit: Not to mention that superstitions have been a common theme this season (ie. 14 invoking that salt superstition in WBY kicked off this season's entire plot) AND WBY is the first case in which we see Susan Twist as well...

It all leads back to that moment.)

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I wish women did not feel so strongly about the fact men, on average, are physically stronger than them. I feel like women have such negative feelings about this that it drives them to ridiculousness. Listen, I get it. I get it, I get it, I get it. The fact men are stronger is frightening. It’s scary to know that if a man decided to physically attack you then you are probably fucked. The USWNT, women who have spent years honing their skills on the field, lost to teenage boys who—when compared to the women—were basically just beginning to develop their talents. I understand how demeaning that can feel to every woman who hears this fact. I can imagine how demeaning it was for the USWNT. I’m sure every woman has been in a situation, playful or threatening, where they have tested their strength against a man and lost miserably. I’ve seen videos where women hit and slapped men with genuine rage and fury and the man barely even flinched. I understand how embarrassing and scary it can be to come to terms with the strength disparity between men and women, but you simply must come to terms with it. Far too many women have taken to pretending that it's not there—this is not a good approach.

Women choose to pretend it's not there because acknowledging that it's there makes them feel inferior. I ask women to remember that this world was built with the ideals of men in mind and to cater to their specific strengths. Men value strength and violence so of course the world is going to seem like those two things are all that’s valued in it. It's no coincidence that many male heroes are physically strong/easily able to cause harm—such as Naruto or John Wick or the Avengers. Of course it feels shitty, as a woman who inhabits this world, to have to acknowledge that your biology generally prevents you from being able to have the ‘can beat anyone in a fight’ type of strength that gets constantly praised.

However, I implore women to consider that men being physically stronger than them is no more of a significant fact than women being able to give birth while men cannot. Women also have biological advantages over men but when was the last time you saw a man calling himself inferior because of them? Imagine if the world was built with female advantages in mind. Imagine a world where the ability to give birth was seen as some sort of pinnacle of human worth. I mean, the ability to give birth is crazy. You are literally creating a whole new life. The female body is capable of providing the necessary tools to bring about a whole new person. Every brain that has thought of something life changing and every hand that has built something new was brought into existence by a woman’s reproductive system. Every single person that has ever so much as breathed was brought to life by a woman, but men never think women are superior for this fact.

Oh, but women couldn’t get pregnant without men, right? No. IVF exists. But even without it, the correct thing to say would be that women cannot get pregnant without sperm. A woman can get artificially inseminated. She never has to go out and find a man to have sex with. Is that not an advantage? Because, I mean, what can a man do if he wants to have a child but no woman is willing to give him one? Hire a surrogate? That comes with a list of complications, is far more intimate than artificial insemination, and is incredibly expensive. How is that not a disadvantage of being male? You may be thinking that you, as a woman, never want to become pregnant, but that is not the point!  The point is that it's arbitrary to look at biological advantages as anything other than completely neutral.

Women also survive famine better and live longer than men. Imagine a world where women held this over men’s heads? But we don’t live in that world. In this world, I’m certain a man would say that they die sooner because of being braver, taking more risks, and doing dangerous jobs. However, if it were women putting themselves in danger and dying as a result, men would not be quick to call us brave; they'd call us the opposite. Idiotic. Foolhardy. Too stupid to take the necessary precautions to keep ourselves alive.

It is just so painful to see women lamenting over the physical disparity between men and women. Let it go. Consider being neutral on the subject of biological advantage. Consider that male strength isn't something to pretend doesn't exist and isn’t something that proves women are inferior.

I understand that acknowledging vulnerability is against the survival Instinct—I get it—but come on. How can we let this get to a point where we’re saying it’s okay for males to enter female sports and beat the absolute crap out of/wipe the floor with women? Them being stronger is neutral! It does not mean anything! But it’s fact. Pretending it’s not only serves to put women in a losing position. Pretending it’s not only serves to make women into a laughing stock. Men will gladly collect medals that belong to women—they’ve been doing that forever. If there was no reason for male and female leagues then there wouldn’t be any. You cannot deny your way into something being true. I also wish it were true that the average woman was evenly matched against the average man, but it’s simply not reality. In the same way that it’s not reality that the average woman is taller than the average man.

I am begging women to think neutrally about this topic instead of being in such deep turmoil over it that they open the door for men to walk all over us.

[rockrosethistle]

I actually fucking hate Mr. Jägerman here's why

Mr. Jägerman is a character in the Hatchetfield universe who is never onstage and only mentioned in 1 (one) line. This was enough to ignite my rage.

It's because in this one line, so much is revealed about Max's character. So let's dissect that.

Max is mean. We know this. The very first thing established about him is how threatening he is. But I think his character often gets lost in the 'bully' identity, because just like every other Hatchetfield character, he is layered and complex.

We also find out two other things about him pretty much immediately: He has a crush on Grace (we'll come back to that) and he needs to feel in control.

There's a lot of evidence to support this. He repeatedly refers to himself as the 'god' of Hatchetfield High. He creates arbitrary rules around who his friends can date. He creates arbitrary rules around where the nerds are 'allowed' to go. And the moment someone implies he is not as powerful as he thinks he is, he retaliates violently.

This isn't just Max being a jerk. These are all signs of someone who is almost certainly deprived of control in their home life, which forces them to find it elsewhere. Max likely has little to no say in what happens to him at home. He's clinging to a sense of control wherever he can find it. And that line basically confirms that his home isn't a safe place for him.

Back to the crush on Grace, when you look objectively at the actions Max takes in the show, you'll find that he's not really a bad person, he's a mean person. He's a little shit that processes his need for control in the entirely wrong way, but people are shaped by their surroundings. The actions that come from him are different.

His crush on Grace only supports this. Every other bully in every piece of media sees the girl they like and whistle and say "yo lemme hit that." And if the girl rejects them, they resort to "tease bitch." Not Max. The first thing he does is start a conversation with her, laughs at (what he thinks is) a joke, then offers to carry her books. Like, I wish my highschool bullies were that nice to their own girlfriends.

When she rejects him, it's true that he continues to pursue her and calls her "dirty girl," but that once again comes back to his need to feel in control. But he doesn't get aggressive, he doesn't do anything that screams 'bully.'

We don't get a lot of scenes with pre-ghost Max. But when we do, they're interesting to analyze. Like, have you ever noticed that when he finds Steph in the Waylon Place, his very first instinct is to tell her, "Get behind me, I'll protect you" from, as far as he knows, actual ghosts? He feels like his life is in danger, but he's still putting Steph's safety first, despite having no interest in her romantically. That's huge.

There's even some evidence to support that Max terrorizing the nerds is, from his perspective, not so one-sided. When he finds out they were the ones who pulled the pranks, he says "I thought you guys hated me."

And he's open to change. He's not stubborn, he's not brutal. He doesn't continue hating the nerds just because it is what it is. Moments before his death, he is showing signs of opening up to them, and actually seems like he's coming around.

And none of this is meant as trying to defend Max's actions. I know he's the antagonist. I know he treats people unfairly. But all of this has to come from somewhere. I'm trying to say that there was clearly a foundation of a good person underneath all that cruelty. So what toughened his shell?

Mr. Jägerman. Max reveals in that one line that if he were to go back home from the 'party', his dad would call him a 'little cuck.' "can't even fight off one lousy skele'uhn." In this, he reveals his dad is demeaning to him. He's the kind of man who would hear that his son was in a life-or-death situation, and instead of comforting him, he would have made fun of him.

What must that do to a person? As someone who grew up in a home where Dad wasn't always a safe person to be around, I know that when I was younger, a lot of my bad bad behaviours were something I learned from him.

The prank meant to scare Max was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him.

I think a lot of what happens in NPMD is indirectly Mr. Jägerman's fault. "Knowledge is knowing Frankenstein is the doctor, wisdom is knowing Frankenstein is the monster" type of shit. It is directly because of his actions and the way he treated his own child that any of this happened.

or maybe I'm reading too much into this. But I fucking hate Max's dad so much.

[gretavanlace]

Hush

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only Minors do not interact

Warnings: graphic sexual content, dirty talk, choking, light degradation, praise, slight dom/sub/switch dynamic, language, etc

Josh is vocal.

That is certainly no secret.

Anyone who has watched him strut about a stage, microphone in hand, knows that.

Off stage, he talks incessantly about both the things that matter to him, and the mundane. Things he is passionate about. Things that light fires within him and drive him to create and pack this world as full of his heart as he possibly can. Arbitrary ideas and notions. Strange ponderings.

Pontification, he likes to call it.

He’s also vocally boisterous when agitated. He loathes waiting, and will mutter complaints near your ear in line until you’re willing your eyes not to roll. A phone call to vent about the antics of one brother or another from the studio is a regular occurrence and can be counted on just like death and taxes.

“Samuel was even later than I was,” he might huff, “and now Jake’s guitar needs to be restrung because fuck this whole world if he has to use a backup. I hate them, and I want to come home to you, light of my life, keeper of the stars, goddess of all that is— oh, we’re ready…gotta go.”

Josh murmurs in his sleep, sings in the shower, talks himself through menial tasks, hums in the grocery store, carries on one-sided conversations with the cat who simply chirps along while swirling around his ankles.

At least twice a night he snatches you from drifting off to sleep with a question: Do you think I should call my mom more? If I miss her, she must miss me. Or, Did I ever tell you about that time that Jake ate shit and fell in the lake? I was thinking about it today, and…

Random thoughts and idle musings he can’t help but verbalize, you hear them all. Mostly. The ones you aren’t privy to, fall upon the nearest ear - but he’s so fucking charming even a stranger is happy to play sounding board.

Josh is also expressive when you’re wrapped up in soft, linen sheets…or wherever else he’s decided he can no longer wait to have you.

Whispers of devotion swelling like a gentle breeze across the hum of your pulse when he makes love to you. Filthy, dirty, blush-inducing declarations when he’s fucking into your trembling body like he’ll never touch it again.

And you love it…all of it. But now - with your visiting sister slumbering in the guest room on the other side of the wall - is certainly not the time.

“Baby, please…” his mouth is sucking gently along your collarbone as he grinds into you slowly, friction hard and constant against your greedy, swollen clit, “let me fuck you faster…c’mon, I need it.”

”What you need, is to be quiet,” your voice is a stern whisper, but your hands are tender in his hair.

He could easily set a pace as brutal as he desired if he felt inclined to disobey…but, ever the sweetest switch, he has opted to play nice tonight.

”I’ll be quiet,” he promises. It is a lie he truly believes, and to prove that point, you clench around him and draw forth a pitiful groan from deep within his chest.

A swift pinch at his side serves as punishment ”Shut. Up.”

”Fuck you,” he sounds deliciously desperate, “You did that on purpose. Squeezing me with that beautiful pussy…goddamn.”

”What’s going to happen if I let you make me cum? Hmm?” Your mouth falls into a delicate pout as if you just feel so sorry for him, “You know how tight I get. How I just hug your cock all snug and wet…”

”And warm,” he adds, lost in it, daydreaming in the dark of night and twitching inside the embrace of your cunt, “Soft as satin, sucking me right in…oh my god, baby, please.”

He begins moving with more purpose, dragging the head of his cock against that lovely little spot that will render you incoherent if you allow it to.

”Oh my god, please,” you mock quietly, “Look at you Joshua, what a whiny baby. What are you begging for? Pussy? Is that what you need?”

He nods frantically against your sternum, as though he doesn’t trust himself to look up at you.

You feign confusion wickedly “But you’ve got that. You’re already inside me…”

“Faster,” he breathes, biting and mouthing at your shoulder now, “Need it faster, and harder. It’s too slow, I need more.��

Clicking your tongue like he is a poor, pathetic sight to behold, you shake your head, “Slow down.”

”No, please don’t make me,” he slows, as instructed, but trails off with a whimper.

So, maybe there’s no ‘like’ about it, maybe he really is a poor, pathetic sight to behold. Yes, you decide, that’s exactly what he is…

…so why not push him even further?

With a swift tug on the roots of his curls, you issue an order ”Stay still.”

Despondent and mournful, he groans into the crook of your neck and grabs at your hips so tightly you’ll be admiring raspberry bruises in the mirror come morning. “C’mon, baby girl…lemme take it. I fucking want it.”

If he were looking at you, he’d see the devilish gleam in your eye. Aren’t you an awful witch tonight? “What? Don’t you like it when I keep your pretty cock warm for you?”

He flexes hard inside of you, simply to gain even a hint of friction. “You’re being so fucking mean.”

”Mean?” You coil around the throbbing length of him and he shudders out the tiniest sound, “If I was mean, I’d lock your pretty cock in a cage and fuck your face all night.”

For a moment, he shirks his submissive edge and hisses in your ear, low and slow, “Liar. Not with little sister in the next room…you couldn’t keep quiet with my face between your legs if someone fucking paid you to.”

In response, you shove him back and roll until your thighs are locked around his waist, the crown of his cock nestled against your clit as your hips swivel heated circles.

”Does that feel good, baby?” You’re taunting him cruelly while, in contrast, lovingly reaching up to smooth the furrow from his brow. “Does that just feel so good?”

”Wanna put it back inside,” his eyes squint shut and anyone who didn’t know better might think his expression is that of suffering. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight, so…”

”Shh,” you quiet him with a hand wrapped around his throat, relishing the way his adam’s apple slides against your palm when he swallows hard, “shut your mouth for once.”

He’s staring up at you, wide-eyed and needy, like you painted the stars in the sky, gorgeous and glittering, just for him…and how you wish that were true. How you wish you could give him something so profound. Something worthy of his light.

”I won’t make a sound,” his vow sounds out, a cross between the honesty he wishes it to be rooted in, and the lie he knows it to be. “C’mon baby, please…fuck me sweet.”

Does he really want it sweet? Or is he simply aware that that’s all he is capable of quietly handling?

Likely the latter.

Your fingers have found your nipples, twisting and tugging on them as they tighten into pink pebbles that send shivers crawling down into your stomach with every pull. His eyes lock in on you, watching you tease them as his breathing kicks up into a frenzy.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns, grip pulling you down closer as he rocks his hips up to meet you. “Keep it up and I’m gonna fucking take it. Be a good girl now, baby…I’m done with your shit.”

”Yeah?” Your eyebrow raises in silent challenge. Does he have it in him tonight?

“Yeah.” He nods, licking his thumb to swirl much too gently across your clit.

”I think you should just behave and be grateful for what you’re—“

Stunned and dazed, the room blurs around you as you’re flipped and tossed until your cheek is pressed against the cool, crisp sheets. They smell of him, and you breathe Josh in until your lungs ache while his cock teases at your entrance from behind.

His body folds over yours until his lips sweep the shell of your ear, “You’ve done it now, baby girl. Better be quiet, yeah? Not a sound.”

With a swift snap of his hips, the silken glide of his cock fills you full as his palm presses against your lips to muffle the high-pitched moan that gasps out of you.

”Now who’s the whiny baby?” his perfect teeth sink into your earlobe and tug until it blooms with heat. The moan that seeps into his soft skin causes his lips to curl into a smirk you can feel. “This is what you wanted, you think I don’t know that?”

He has begun moving at an excruciatingly slow place, the head of his cock dragging gently inside you just right…but you need more.

”You think I didn’t know that you wanted me to just fucking take it all along?”

You nod urgently, tangling your hair against the pillowcase. Of course he knew, he knows you better than you know yourself. There are no secrets to be hidden away when it comes to Joshua. He hunts each and every one down like glittering treasure with ease…your body his map, the pools of your eyes ciphers he decodes without even trying.

His tongue is dancing its way along your jaw now, springing chills to life upon your flushed skin ”Tell me how good my cock feels and I’ll fuck you full.”

Another woeful sound shakes out of you and a rumbling, gravelly laugh huffs warm against your cheek, “My poor, sweet baby can dish it just fine tonight, but she can’t take it? Is that it?”

With a shhh that makes you feel weighed down heavy with lust, he lifts his palm away from your mouth. “I can take it,” you promise in a hush, “Please…I can take it, I swear.”

He is so still inside you, but the familiar stretch is enough to send a tremble tripping up your spine, spider-cracking like a jolt of electric pleasure. “But can you take it quietly? Can you be a real good girl or should I gag you like a whore?”

”I’ll be a good girl,” you breathe, relishing the sound that slips out of him, a cross between famished desire and worshipful devotion.

“Yeah?” He’s enjoying this little game too much to wave goodbye to it just yet, “You’ll be a good girl if I give you this cock?” He presses in so deeply there’s nothing left for him to give, “You’ll take it quietly and squeeze it nice and tight? Soak it with your little wet cunt when I make you cum?”

He can feel you clenching already, twisting around him like a fist, milking him, pulling him in, starved for more.

”Yes, yes, yes,” you chant softly, begging for him to get on with it, “Just fuck me, Josh…please,”

There’s that sinful mouth of his again, ghosting over your ear, “Just fuck me Josh,” he mocks in a velvet whisper, “Please.”

A sob escapes you and turns the apples of your cheeks pink…he echoes the sound back to you and fans the flames of your delectable shame.

”Quiet now, baby…” he reminds you, tone taunting and laced with self-satisfaction, “You just bite down on the pillow if it gets to be too much, and I’ll bite down on you.”

You tighten around him at the mere thought of it and tug an achingly gorgeous grunt from deep within his chest, “You like that? You want me to bite you to keep quiet? Mark you up all pretty?”

”Fuck…” you reach back and grab for him, fingers sinking into the curve of his waist, begging for it with your entire body.

You can’t seem to manage much more, but it’s enough for him, and with a swift pull back, he snaps his hips hard and fast and sets a relentlessly feral pace in motion.

The head of his cock, thick and suede-soft, kisses your cervix with each inward push, driving a wild sound out of you that you smother into the pillow, tongue dragging against the worn cotton as though it were his mouth.

His teeth are peppering your back and shoulders, gnashing his own moans way down deep into your flesh where you will secret them away forever. He gifts each sound to you on a gorgeous, stinging platter and you only want more, more, more. It is never enough with him…you are gluttonous for whatever he sees fit to offer.

”You feel so fucking good, baby,” it comes undulating across your cheekbone like a warm, languorous breeze, “So fucking wet, I can feel you all over me. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He grows impossibly hard within you and that, along with the filth he is sighing into the night and the drags of his teeth, sends you careening over the edge you had no idea you were so close to. You explode around him, and his weight grows heavier atop you as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“That’s it,” his praise is clipped and winded, “just - fuck - just like that. Keep going, so tight, messy pretty fucking pussy, make me cum, baby, please…make me fucking cum.”

He’s babbling like a brook you want to lie beside and listen to for the rest of your life. So beautiful. So Josh. But so quietly, and you know how difficult it must be for him, how hard he must be trying, and you love him all the more for it.

With a final, vicious bite, he coaxes a hiss out of you that makes him see stars as he lets go, fucking himself deeper and deeper as he rides it out, moans pressed into your glazed, shivering body like flowers in between the pages of a book.

And still, you only want more. You want his jaw to lock, his teeth to break the skin, to draw blood, to scar you…soft pink, raised marks tattooed by his kiss to remind you.

A long sigh flutters your hair, and your eyes drift closed at the soothing lilt of the sound as his fingers begin to card through your hair.

”You thirsty, baby?” His nose nuzzles at you, drawing forth a lazy smile that is half smashed into the pillow.

“Yes, but stay a little longer.”

He cuddles down into you, cheek to cheek, the weight of his body keeping you warm and safe in the silence.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @profitofthedune @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @jakesgrapejuice @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

[paper-mario-wiki]

Shangri-La Frontier mid-season review

This is by far the best fake video game I've ever seen written in fiction.

Most MMO-centric isekai stories have trouble with providing accurate and realistic depictions of the complexities and minutia that give MMOs the allure they have. I've seen so much handwavey bullshit tacked onto fake-games that introduce unrealistically overlooked mechanics for reasons like giving the protag immense power just because they're the protag and the story is about them. A good example of this is another MMO Isekai airing this season, "A Playthrough of a Certain Dude's VRMMO Life", wherein the main character becomes extremely rich, powerful, and famous by episode 2 because he stumbled into a stealth archer playstyle, a build which apparently no human in that universe had ever conceived of before, and then making a fortune by selling basic potions to everyone after NPCs stopped selling them (another thing he was uniquely able to do because not a single other player had the forethought to spec into alchemy). These lesser, dime-a-dozen isekai add up to be boring fantasy strories with gaming elements clumsily put in so that the author can demonstrate how powerful the world's inhabitants are by showing their stat allocation screen instead of, say, explaining anything about what they do that's so uniquely powerful and how they figured it out. Ya know, stuff you'd hope to hear about from any competent story.

Shangri-La Frontier is a breath of fresh air for anyone who, like me, is sick of authors ignoring the things that actually make video games compelling in service of creating a stock-standard narratives in fantasy worlds because it allows them to get away with bullshit. I've always found it very convenient that many isekai narratives indulge in things like chattel slavery, because it's societally normal enough for the protag to purchase a beautiful, vulnerable girl to add to his harem (dont worry, she is always inexplicably in love with him no matter what because he's SUCH a kind master). And it never really seems to go anywhere. Because the Video Game Isekai, while an interesting premise in theory, is more often than not used exclusively as a means to simplify the structure of a world's power scaling to abide by an arbitrary set of omnipresent universal rules (e.g. what people who have never cared to look into game development think of video games). This anime, by comparison, is VERY clearly authored by someone who plays a LOT of games.

Every piece of logic used to drive the plot forward, so far, is congruent to a real-world example of video game conventions, and I'm not just talking about levelling up and selling monster parts. Story elements that I've rarely (if ever) seen explored in other isekai are ever-present and genuinely clever and amusingly introduced. My favorite example of this so far has been the way the protagonist has been able to go head to head with so many overlevelled foes in the first 9 episodes. The story of course makes note of how good of a gamer Sanraku (our hero) is, but much like in real life games, being super duper good at dodging attacks doesn't really make up for a 70 level gap in items and learned skills. For that reason, he gets his ass whooped more often than he actually outsmarts others (so far he hasn't beaten a single player in pvp). So how is he getting out of these situations without dying so frequently? Simple: he got access to a later area too early relative to his level (sequence break) and got access to a high level follower NPC that's been carrying him. This is something he acknowledges directly several times, specifically using words like "Emul has been hard-carrying me for a while." This, to me, is extraordinarily meaningful. That's something you can exploit in Skyrim, man. That's REALISTIC CHEESE STRATS. The excitement and wonder I find in this show doesn't come from watching the protag do something unexpected, but by watching him do something that I would think to do.

This knowledge the author has demonstrated regarding modern gaming culture extends further into the actual realistic nature of game design and community. The story exists in a reality where full-dive VRMMOs are the be-all-end-all of gaming, and given the prohibitively expensive nature of developing and designing expansive, immersive worlds, most games are pretty shit. It's been hinted at so far that this is due to a monopolistic megacorp which is one of the only entities rich and powerful enough to make a good game (the game in question being the one that shares the title of the anime), but so far the strife of the characters have been pretty centralized to the happenings of the game world and its politics. By the way, lets talk about the game world's player base politics, which I'm also quite pleased with. It exists in the form of guilds and clans who struggle for power not by participating in seemingly random pvp with other powerful players to see who is the most epic and badass warrior (again, like many contemporary isekai typically opt for), but by gaining actual realistic support from a fictional playerbase with realistic desires and playstyles. Some guilds are interested in lore, some gather for alliance and boss raids, some for things like animal husbandry, and (naturally) at least one is dedicated to trolling and PKing. Each of these factions, through the very little that we've seen of them so far, communicate on forums and only know as much as is reasonable for them to know. The only reason they give a shit about the protagonist at all is because he gained access to a high-level unique scenario quest that they want information on how to access, and the only reason word of that got out in the first place was because someone posted a screenshot of him with a unique NPC onto a forum, asking about it as "where can i find this pet summon, its super cute!" That's real. That's video games, baby.

I like this show a lot so far. I like that it cares about video games, but I also like its writing. I like the main character and how hes less of an ultra badass super cool guy, and more of an earnest challenge-run lets player. Like, a lot of his dialogue straight up sounds strikingly similar to Japanese youtubers. And he's naturally always quick to point out inconsistencies in the game world's logic. I ALSO really like his community of pals from a janky old fighting game, and I ADORE the girl from his school who has a crush on him and also just so happens to be an exceptionally high level player from a top clan, and how she had to spend 9 episodes working up the courage to send him a friend request. I love that so, so much, dude.

I highly recommend this show if you're into a single thing I've mentioned. The animation is great. The world is beautiful. The character design is immaculate. And I'm looking forward to watching it continue.

[juniperpyre]

misconceptions about real world history and how they affect interpretations of wizarding world history

misconception of magic and witchcraft in western europe pre-modern era

application in HP world building a: inconsistencies in the text b: what this means for magical history (feat: Ur-Fascism by Umberto Eco)

1: misconceptions of magic and witchcraft in western europe

there's a huge cultural misunderstanding of how western europe thought about "magic" and "witchcraft" pre-modern era, including the function of the witch trials. laws against magic were specific, and usually involved the practicer causing certain harm or worshipping pagan gods.

folk magic was practiced across cultures and across the centuries by the lower classes. ritualized chanting, amulets, prayers to saints, rituals of protection (sometimes from witchcraft), and medicine all contained elements of knowledge beyond the observable.

most people would have considered something condemnable and witchcraft if the power came from the Devil. other practices that we lump into that specific version of witchcraft would have been miracles, or cunning, or maybe a prayer answered.

it went against church doctrine to believe magic existed in any form for much of this time, but we know that doesn't mean it wasn't still part of the cultures.

the witch trials, which peaked in the early modern era, were simply targeting women. there was a rise in unmarried women, women were marrying older, and nunneries were being shut down due to the protestant reformation. i've spoken before about how the conception of what a woman is was changing rapidly in the early modern era.

2: application in HP worldbuilding

a: inconsistencies in the text

this is why i get irritated when i see people take the persecution of magical folk as presented in HP text at face value. there is no historical basis for this until the early modern witch trials, which is stated in the text to not have a big impact on magical folk's safety.

to quote a history of magic:

"Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognising it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises."

so, which is it? Muggle suddenly turned on magical folk and scared them into hiding with their persecution, or they were no real threat. we know jkr just needed a reason for the magical world to be secret, but for those of us who choose to take this way too seriously, this is an inconsistency.

b: what this means for magical history

an inconsistency that reminds me of two components of fascism as described by Umberto Eco. one is "obsession with a plot", an obsessive fear that some outside enemy is trying to harm your group, and two, the creation of enemies who were "at the same time too strong and too weak".

not to say the WW is fascist. i think this comparison makes it clear that the mythology around magical history is a way to maintain power and control over the population. the mythology creates a justification for the SoS and later the development of pureblood supremacy, which i view as a form of nationalism.

i don't think we really know what happened to cause the SoS. i suspect it was due to the witch trials, sure, but also because of the same anxieties and upheavals that caused the witch trials. like all things, it was fucking complicated.

we have pureblood propaganda in the supplementary text in the form of the sacred 28. this was published anonymously in the 1930s. no sources. meaningless. who was included and who was excluded was arbitrary. i don't think it's a stretch to say there is more historical myth-making going on in the text. we'll never know bc jkr hates history and is horrible at writing it!

overall, headcanon what you want, world build what you want, but it is useful to identify authoritarian and propagandist elements in the text you're analyzing. people seem to fall for the WW in-universe propaganda often, in pursuit of making blood supremacists more sympathetic. i'd rather we not.

[sokkastyles]

In hindsight, the Lion Turtle ex Machina was a sign of things to come. Energy bending and the idea of taking bending away from people only makes bending into the end all be all, I mean. Yeah, it is a huge part of the identity of each nation, but it's not the sole marker of identity, nor are villains suddenly less dangerous because they don't have it.

That's because the show doesn't tackle the idea of superiority and power that exists behind the ability to bend or not bend.

It's really baffling because there are some scenes that are really really good at acknowledging it. I know people have knee-jerk reactions to the comics for good reason, but those scenes in the Promise where Zuko becomes a shrinking little boy while his father walks all over him from his prison cell even though Zuko is the Fire Lord and Ozai is powerless? Those scenes are so spot on. Ozai used bending to control Zuko for so long and make him believe he was weak, so you would think that Ozai without his bending would not still be able to psychologically dominate Zuko like that, but the reason is because it was never about the bending, but what it represents.

That's why people who insist that Azula is a superior bender and deserved blah blah blah are missing the point. That's why energy bending and Bumi getting airbending to feel more like Aang's son is missing the point. It was never about the bending. It was never about how good a bender Azula was, it was about the entitlement that the idea that she was a superior bender created in her, and if it wasn't about the bending it would be about something else, because entitled people are always going to believe they are entitled to treat other people badly, and the reasons are arbitrary.

In some ways, Ozai having his bending taken away is karmic justice, and what would hurt him the most, as someone who believed his bending made him feel superior. But in other ways, it's just validating the idea that the ability to bend makes you superior. Ozai can say to himself that Aang had to take away his bending because they just resented how powerful he was, and it doesn't address the root issue of believing he's superior in the first place.

There's also this weird undercurrent of the belief in a spiritual right to power that's built into the world building of the show and creates some weird implications. Like, okay, I can buy into the Avatar as being imbued with spiritual power as the protector of the world. Okay, it's a kid's fantasy show. It's moments when the show tries to go deeper that it tends to fumble. The concept that bending can be taken away if used to create spiritual imbalance, okay. But then, isn't the existence of the Avatar a spiritual imbalance? What if the Avatar doesn't have the world's best interests at heart? Who watches the watchmen and all that.

And then you get to the stuff where the air nomads were all benders because they were the most spiritual, except sometimes air nomads have children that aren't entirely genetically air nomad and their genes apparently determine their spirituality because why isn't Bumi a bender? Oops, let's give him bending! Problem fixed! Don't pay attention to what this says about the belief that spirituality is linked to bending or how similar this belief is to the justifications Ozai used to abuse his kids, let alone the justifications the FN uses to commit genocide. The war began because Sozin was trying to eliminate the Avatar, because having someone who could control all elements was a threat to FN superiority. Not just because of the spiritual power of the Avatar, but because of what that power represented, that firebenders were not and could not be the superior benders, that there existed a more powerful bender.

I always circle back to the fact that the show missed an opportunity to use the Avatar as a representation of harmony between bending, which is what it is in its best interpretations. Instead of having Aang use an unbeknownst power given to him by a spiritual being to prove himself the most powerful bender and turn his opponent into the weakest, have him use everything he learned from his friends, the way Zuko did. Prove that it's not about bending or power, it's about love and trust and learning to understand and empathize with other people.

[soon-palestine]

Palestinian Territory - The Israeli authorities continue to enforce their ongoing arbitrary blockade of the Gaza Strip, refusing to allow humanitarian aid and necessities that are essential for survival—such as cleaning and personal hygiene supplies—into the Strip. This comes amid the spread of infectious diseases and on top of the precarious living conditions faced by the approximately 2.3 million Palestinians in the enclave, constituting a perpetuation of Israel’s comprehensive crime of genocide, which began on 7 October 2023.

Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor emphasises that the consequences of Israel’s intentional worsening of the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip, by blocking people’s access to cleaning and personal hygiene products, medical equipment, and sterilisation supplies, are dire. Nothing justifies subjecting the population to conditions that can cause widespread death, including by causing the spread of serious skin diseases and and infections, including hepatitis.

Israel continues to systematically and arbitrarily deny hygiene supplies and equipment to all Gaza Strip residents, exacerbating the catastrophic health crisis that Israel has caused there. This crisis has been made worse by the population’s forced, widespread, and repeatedly occurring displacement, as well as the lack of personal hygiene supplies and disinfectants in shelters and camps housing hundreds of thousands of displaced people. Israel continues to prevent and obstruct the entry of the most basic supplies into the Strip, creating conditions that are ripe for the spread of infectious diseases, water pollution, and the absence of sanitation services, as Israeli army forces have destroyed these facilities.

Since the beginning of the genocide nearly, Israel has arbitrarily closed crossings into the Gaza Strip, blocking the entry of humanitarian supplies and the flow of food and water. These actions have resulted in a dangerous accumulation of crises that directly threaten the lives and health of the Gaza Strip’s residents, most notably due to their lack of access to food, clean water, medicines, medical supplies, sanitary tools, and cleaning supplies.

Aya Kamal Ashour Abed, a 20-year-old displaced mother of two at the Deir al-Balah Preparatory School for Girls in the central Gaza Strip, spoke with the Euro-Med Monitor team. “We are more than 30 people living in this classroom for about nine months,” she stated. “A few months ago, we numbered roughly 70, but after some of the displaced individuals relocated to tents outside the school, our numbers dropped somewhat.

“We only receive cleaning and personal hygiene supplies in small quantities every two or three months, despite the fact that our number is very high and we require them constantly,” Abed continued. “Sanitation supplies, like tissues, soap, and shampoo, are extremely expensive [or] even nonexistent in the markets.”

Added Abed, “A bar of soap, for instance, now costs 30 shekels (roughly nine USD) while a bottle of shampoo costs 90 shekels (roughly 25 USD). We do not have anything to eat, so how can we afford these amounts for basic hygiene?”

Abed, who was displaced from her home in the Jabalia refugee camp in the northern Gaza Strip following its bombing last October, said that her two sons had become afflicted with allergies and bacteria, for which she is unable to provide ointments because they are unavailable in UNRWA clinics. “I showed my son to the doctor, and he told me that his entire body is seriously infected with bacteria due to poor hygiene,” Abed told Euro-Med Monitor.

Obtaining sanitary pads—which are pricey and hard to find in local markets—is one of her biggest challenges. “Even though my children’s diapers are completely unusable, I have to cut them into tiny pieces and use them as sanitary pads,” Abed explained. “During my period, I also have to use a single pad for the entire day, which has led to numerous infections and rashes.”

Approximately 680,000 women and girls in the Gaza Strip are of reproductive age. These individuals lack access to menstrual pads and other essentials, and also face other challenges such as inadequate access to water, toilets, various hygiene products, and privacy. Additionally, they must use contaminated or unsterilised materials, which puts them at risk of developing infections that can lead to infertility and uterine cancer.

Since Israel has cut off electricity to the Gaza Strip, there is a growing risk to all residents caused by waste accumulation and sewage flooding of roads and markets due to the inability to drain it. Israel has destroyed most of the Strip’s vital infrastructure, including sewage networks, and forced over two million people—the majority of whom have been displaced more than once—into shelters and tents that lack the basic necessities of life, personal hygiene, and health care.

Forty-two-year-old Mohammed Saad Abu Haitham said that his family of eight, which resides in a tent in the Mawasi neighborhood of Khan Yunis in the southern Gaza Strip, is severely impacted by the lack of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and bar soap. Due to its scarcity, soap is unusually expensive and therefore difficult to purchase.

“We do not have the money to buy enough meals for our children, so we cannot buy cleaning materials and soap in light of their high prices and the lack of availability,” Abu Haitham told the Euro-Med Monitor team. “My spouse and kids’ hair has been infected with lice, and we all have skin diseases as a result of not washing and not using enough soap and shampoo.”

Food dyes are used instead of traditional dyes for making liquid soap and sterilisation products, which have not entered the Gaza Strip in months due to the Israeli closure of the crossings and the imposition of an arbitrary siege. These alternative and primitive cleaning products are made locally, are unsafe, and are generally insufficient in both quality and quantity when sold in the markets of the central and southern Gaza Strip.

Tens of thousands of cases of skin diseases, including eczema, have been reported to medical facilities as having cropped up in shelters and camps for displaced people living in tents. This is particularly concerning for women, as eczema often appears on the hands of people working to clean food utensils using antiquated and dangerous materials. Meanwhile, reports from the United Nations indicate that skin rashes and skin infections, especially among children, are sharply increasing in the Strip.

The Israeli authorities have placed an arbitrary and oppressive siege on the Palestinian people there, squeezing them into a tiny area with exceedingly limited resources; denying them access to food, clean water, and other necessities; and leaving them exposed to extreme heat.

The right to dignity is an internationally recognised human right that protects people from humiliation, among other forms of unethical treatment. It is meant to ensure fairness by providing the means for people to live in dignity, as well as other fundamental needs and rights, like the right to health and the right to water and sanitation. These rights are essential to maintaining human dignity and preserving the lives of the populace.

The only way to guarantee the rights of Gaza Strip residents is to put an end to Israel’s crime of genocide, lift the arbitrary siege on the Strip, and rescue what remains of the currently uninhabitable region. Delays will either cause the region to irreversibly deteriorate, or incur significant costs in terms of civilian lives and health.

The international community is required to guarantee the entry of humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip, including the entry of non-food essentials needed to respond to the dire circumstances faced by the Strip’s entire population. Euro-Med Monitor stresses that swift and effective action must be taken to safely deliver aid to civilians across the entire Strip, including the northern section, which is particularly isolated right now. Additionally, the international community must prioritise providing adequate supplies of personal and family hygiene products, as well as products for menstruating individuals, plus sexual and reproductive health care services to prevent and mitigate further harm to women and children in particular, and the entire Palestinian population in general. These actions are mandated by international human rights law and relevant international obligations.

Pressure needs to be put on Israel, as the occupying force, to maintain sanitation facilities and services in the Gaza Strip, as well as to guarantee the safety of the technicians charged with repairing and renovating water lines and their various sources. The main water pipelines that enter the Strip need to be restored, particularly those that enter it from the north.

In addition to ensuring the entry of enough fuel to operate the Gaza Strip’s water and sanitation infrastructure, including desalination plants, water wells, and mobile toilets, it is crucial to exert pressure on Israel to permit the entry of materials required for repair work and rehabilitation of civilian infrastructure. These services are essential to the civilian population’s survival in the Strip, and will protect them from the threat of further health disasters.

[notalittleatall]

Also I think a huge part of what makes Worms superpowers feel better is that the people with superpowers actually act like people. They experiment! They test out what they can and can’t do, and think of ways to use their powers effectively. In a lot of superhero media the characters act like they just got their powers 5 minutes ago and barely think about how to use them as opposed to using their power like something thats been an extension of their body for years , because the writers only spent 5 minutes thinking about how they would use them. Like in this scene from the boys. I have a specific grudge here, because I think it exemplifies a lot of the issues with superhero media. Starlight has the power to create powerful burning beams of light, but still opts for kicking and punching which does essentially nothing compared to using her power. Anyone with this ability for a day or more would at least realise that they could blind someone fairly easily, but she doesn’t. Stormfront has the ability to hit people with bolts of lightning, that act nothing like lightning actually does. Fights often dissolve into meaningless cgi slogs due to things like this. It could be far more interesting if her bolts would burn and electrocute people like they should, but instead her lightning affects people the same as hitting people with lasers which affects people the same as throwing them telekinetically which realistically ends up affecting people the same as if punching them in the face. Their powers become boring,useless and homogenised making their fights meaningless.

In contrast, Worm takes time to make to make each power unique and to make each person use it in a way that makes it feel like they’ve actually learned how to use it. No character just has something like the ability to teleport, because that necessitates a whole bunch of questions that completely change how this character behaves in a fight. If their teleportation cancels momentum, they can use it to survive falling from great heights, or to stop themselves getting knocked back by a punch and catch their opponent off guard. If it doesn’t cancel momentum, that opens potential for some devastating dropkicks: teleport up 50 feet, fall a bit, teleport 6 inches above the other guys shoulder. Most things don’t bother with these questions, meaning what a character can and can’t do is frustratingly arbitrary. In Worm, these questions are both answered and relevant.

[taylor-titmouse]

2024 Book Retrospective

i did this last year for all the books i released in 2023, and i've been looking forward to doing it again for this year because it was Such a wonky ride. i released 3 new novellas, collected 3 old ones in a new illustrated release, put out a new freebie, and dipped my toes into artbooks for the first time. that's not even including the multiple extra things i wrote this year but will release next year. it felt to me like i barely got anything out in 2024, but looking back i really did plenty.

anyway let's get into it! these will probably contain spoilers for the books because i want to talk about them openly. if you haven't read them yet... they're on sale for 40% off until the new year!

The Masson Circle Collection (1-3), released in January

so! we started out the year with this updated version of some of my earlier works. daffodils, carnations, and laurels were among my first forays into publishing novellas, and were the last of my romances before i transitioned more deliberately into erotica. the distinction is practically arbitrary since i do still write about people in love, but it's not the focus so much as the sexual titillation.

but anyway. because these were romances and not Porn (despite having explicit sex in them), and because they came out before i'd really hit my stride as an erotic author/illustrator in 2021/2022, they never got the attention i'd have liked for them! they were the last before i made the switch to properly illustrating my books; they had sketchbook sections at the back instead. i started the roger crenshaw series shortly afterward, which is when my work really took off. so it's like these stories just missed their window.

but i wanted people to read them! these stories and characters are dear to my heart and i felt like they deserved a fair shake, so i spent a month or so at the end of 2023 revising the text to be closer to my standards (though they were pretty good to start with!) and made 30 new illustrations for it. i kept myself Busy getting this ready. it would be a huge release to kick off the new year!

.... and then it didn't do very well anyway. lmao. maybe i priced it too high, maybe i didn't hype it enough, maybe it's because as much as i love all the characters, they're hard to draw and not as exciting as a monster of the day. who knows! but i'm glad i did it, if only for myself. as i've said, these stories were important to me and my growth as an author. if you like historical queer romance with a crime thriller edge, something like kj charles (because she was my biggest inspiration at the time) you should check these out! i promise they're really good despite being on the older side.

The Long Road, released in May

boy that's a big gap between january and may. so what happened there is i actually wrote the night guest first in january-february, and then the long road in march-april. but IMPORTANTLY, i learned my editor @petitemortality was going to become available for work again in april. it'd been probably a year since i'd had his hands on my work and i was Gasping for it. i've compared it to receiving the sponge treatment--just being put through the wringer and coming out So much better for it after a year of bad habits and complacency building up. so basically i put all publishing on hold until he could Fix Me.

and then i ended up rewriting both of those books practically from scratch based on his advice and godddd they really Were so much better for it. it's AGONY in the moment, but the work is worth it. anyway let's talk about the actual work huh.

the genesis of these characters is So funny, because i don't think a single one of them was created for the purpose of this story, rather they all existed as various mobs/nobodies to draw. the goblins and bandits beside vanesse were just designs i used a few times when i wanted to draw characters getting gangbanged. vanesse and angre were created Just for a patreon suggestion of "trans femme bandit queen fucking a trans masc knight". and tourmaline only exists because i wanted to draw a princess getting gangbanged and eveline didn't feel "right" for it anymore. and i ended up with this perfect mishmash of characters that slotted together into a story so naturally that i remember waking up in the middle of the night and banging out the outline in the notes app before falling back asleep and starting to write it the next day.

and it was received pretty well! it had a ton of buildup from me drawing the characters constantly for the duration of the writing and doing a ton of public worldbuilding for dwarves. god i love the worldbuilding for the dwarves. i'm desperate to get deeper into it, i just need to find the story for it. and the goblins. everybody loves the goblins and so do i. and vanesse. ahhhhh.... i'm just so fond of everybody in this book lol. just a big confluence of Toys.

oh yeah and since last year i picked favorite scenes, i think my favorite is angre's internal monologue at the start of his chapter. we get a lot of the worldbuilding there (so of course i like it) but also the Point of the book comes together. i'd struggled a lot with that whole bit in the first draft, but the final draft really just *chefs kiss* it works, for me.

The Night Guest, released in July

as i mentioned before i actually wrote this one much earlier into the year! and immediately had known it wasn't ready, and so backburnered it for months until my editor could essentially fix it. and he fixed the hell out of it. it was a directionless mess in the first draft because i hadn't figured out the characters' voices, what they actually wanted, why they behaved how they did, none of it. it was his idea to structure it more deliberately like an old folktale of a woman outwitting a best, and it snapped into place. of course it was a nearly total rewrite that added like 7000 words (and to this day i'm still not sure how) but it was completely worth it. i feel like i've said that multiple times in this post but it's always true. i cannot stress enough how much i was gasping for a good editing. it's like a cleanse.

this is another story that just sort of Happened out of nowhere. mrs. arakawa was a side character in the dragon double feature 2, and people liked her, and asked about her getting her own monster boyfriend, and so toru was born. partially to get practice drawing that bodytype, partially because i think onis are hot, and then the general shape of a story came to me and i started writing it. without a perfectly clear vision of what it would be. and that's how we got to where we were at the start of this. oops.

i have two favorite parts, the first being this illustration:

when toru is describing the oni woman he was supposed to marry. his entire narrative arc and personal struggle was constructed for the purpose of this joke. i agonized for DAYS, maybe weeks, trying to make his motivation of "i didn't want to get married" work with mrs. arakawa's own feelings about marriage and him having to leave at the end and come back and all of that. it was killing me. but it worked out in the end and i'm so happy it did because i still think the joke that he didn't want to marry a shoujo nadeshiko archetype because he thinks she's ugly is fucking hilarious.

my actual favorite scene is him and mrs. arakawa telling each other stories about themselves. i had a lot of fun trying to ape the rhythms of kabuki performance and rakugo with it.

Spring with the Unicorns, released in June

technically this ought to go before the night guest because it came out first but considering i wrote the first draft of the night guest in january *waves hands* it's all loosey goosey anyway

so this came about because i had the idea to do a book called Season's Breedings (so many of my books happen because i thought of a title and worked backwards from there) and it was literally just going to be the breeding habits of fantasy fuckworld creatures arranged by season. i wrote this one first because it seemed the easiest and then it was less than 4k words, and every other story i had in mind was going to be Much More than that and also didn't come together as easily. so on a very last minute whim i illustrated this and threw it out for free on the last day of pride.

it's me at my loftiest because i was going for a sort of third person omniscient fable type beat, because that's what unicorns deserve. i like it, and it's a good little treat to give out for free. especially because everybody loves the unicorns and loves asking me the same four lore questions and i can just say 'go read the free story' lmao.

it's too short to really have a favorite Scene but barberry is my favorite unicorn. just love everything about that guy. angry little bastard.

Poker Night with the Arizona Dogs, released September

it's not prose but it counts! this is the first artbook i've ever released, though technically not the first i ever made. the unicorn stockades series came before it but will be released sometime next year. it's a bit more spring-seasony. but anyway.

these are a lot of fun to make! i am, at my heart, a comic artist (my day job is graphic novels, buy my graphic novel it comes out in february) so telling a single story in multiple illustrations is kind of my bread and butter. and free use/gangbang stuff is like. perfect for it. everybody has to get a turn! and on top of that it lets me play in a space in a way prose doesn't. prose feels so much more official, more canon (which is how i think of the difference between my drawings and my books--books are canon, drawings are not). but with something like this it's easier to say it was just for fun. because it was! it was a lot of fun.

my favorite illustrations were the jackie-ralph licking ones (because i think i did a good job with the mouths and the folds and all) and the one with johnny with his hand over roger's face and hiding his own. jackie-ralph is probably my favorite of the dogs to draw because he's easiest but johnny is certainly my favorite of the Boys.

Objects of Affection, released in December

boy, this one huh! there is so much to say about this one. this one has like three separate catalysts that blasted together at the end of the summer and it just Happened all at once. there was a person requesting variations on "a mechanic taking advantage of an android they're repairing" for a few months on patreon that i kept meaning to do because it kept winning second place. there was another story i wrote that was too short to publish alone that i was like "okay what if i make a sci-fi anthology and one of the stories is robots..." and then i started rereading chobits for inspiration and it Pissed Me Off So Much how little it wants to engage with its own ideas.

and then the sci-fi anthology idea became only about the robots and i never published the original little short (which will come out next year as a freebie). and then my editor's computer Exploded for two months and he wasn't able to edit it ; ; the wait was Agony because this was one i really, Really did not want to release without proper feedback. something fucking Possessed me with this book and what it says about women and consent and masculinity and all the shit. like those are themes i've already touched in my other works, but in this one it was like turning the knob on a pressure cooker.

it's tough to think of what to say about it that i didn't say in the days after it was released. i've always been frustrated with robot stories that preoccupy themselves with the Theory of rights for artificial life and not the reality of rights for the people we already have. i'd watched astro boy 2003 and pluto shortly before starting (so i guess that's actually 4 things that came together) so Robot Rights!! stories were fresh in my mind and i'd found astro boy particularly frustrating with its insistence on pacifism from the oppressed robots as the government and populace kept abusing them. it is very hard to watch something that says "violence is never the answer! don't fight back, choose peace!" while your own country is aiding and abetting a genocide and obsessing over retribution for a single attack born of decades of settler violence as if they are in any way equivalent.

breathes out

so anyway that's why i chose to write about robots who undeniably do not have sapience, humanity, or rights. because we haven't come even close to solving the issue of rights for ourselves, particularly women (an admittedly easier topic to approach in an erotic work than the horrors of racially motivated war). and between chobits, which suggests a world obsessed with androids but doesn't deeply explore the social ramifications of a female-shaped servant class, and my research into real dolls, the closest thing we already have to fuckable brainless androids, there is a lot of material to draw inspiration from. how a person treats an unperson, particularly one shaped like a woman, will reflect upon how they treat a real person, a real woman.

to be less of a bummer and talk about the Stories, ratna's was the first i wrote, and went through the most revisions between drafts as i tried to figure out her whole deal. she was always going to be a stone butch dyke mechanic, so how would that sort of person feel in her line of work? would she be a stereotype of man-hating lesbian, and sympathetic to the android girls she has to send home with them? or would she be an unrepentant sleeze, just as bad as everyone she works for? i think i ended up somewhere in the middle. she doesn't like men, but doesn't think of herself as better for not being one. she thinks she's better because she isn't better, but at least acknowledges it. and figuring that out was important to figuring out the character. and also going in way harder on the beauty of the mechanism. that was mainly for You Guys, but it was crucial to her character working.

touma and shima's story came to me like a lightning bolt as i was leaving for a vacation. it was going to be, if you can believe it, Even More toxic yaoi. touma ws going to jerk shima off from behind as he fucked mari-ko, it was going to be way more explicit that he was mainly attracted to shima. but ultimately none of that served the actual purpose of the book, about treating people as objects and tools, so i dialed it back. but don't get it twisted touma is still insane and obsessed with shima and wants to touch his cock. but the story as it exists is a more realistic place for him to be at.

and samart and marinette's story was pretty much unchanged from first to final draft. the concept waffled a bit before i started writing, where my first idea had been that he makes her participate in taboo fantasies (calling him big brother, telling him no etc) and the narrative basically asking the question--is this wrong? is it better because she's not real, because he's doing it with her and not a real woman? does her 'no' matter if it's a 'no' she was ordered to say? is it worse because she can't meaningfully consent to the play either way? does any of it matter beyond the effect it has on him?

but as much as i'm interested in unpacking those concepts, i decided they would be too difficult for the audience and potentially open me up to scrutiny and abuse, because you can't even breathe the word "incest" without having your doors beaten down. the book as a whole is difficult, and i want it to be difficult, but i didn't want it to become about That. so instead i went with exploring the sort of loneliness and misanthropy of a person who lives the way he does, and i'm satisfied with it. i think it's the sharpest of the three stories.

wow i had nearly twice as much to say about that one than the rest. lol.

but that's it! that's everything i released! as i hinted throughout there were several other things i wrote this year that will see release next year. i have a free short, a $3 short, a novella awaiting editing, and at least two more artbooks to release. there'll be plenty for me to write about in next year's retrospective.

my writing goal for 2025 is to finish a novel. i did actually reach a finished draft with starbuster, the novel i've been pecking at for the past two years, but having done so and mapped out all the work it needs to be submission-ready, i've put it down semi-permanently. it simply needs too much and it's a bit too niche for traditional publishing, and it's in a genre (contemporary) i don't really want to write more of. so the best use of my time is on something else. it's a shame, but it's for the best! hopefully something will crack me upside the head with inspiration and it'll just Happen like all my best work seems to, lmao.

but if you've read all of this, or just read some of it, thank you!! thank you for supporting me for another year, or the first year if you just got here. if you haven't read everything i put out in 2024, it's on sale until jan 1st! go pick it up for cheap!!

[die-lian-hua]

This is a tale about a boastful and higher-than-life Oni King. One day he decided to fish the old-fashioned way and was ecstatic when he saw the size and thickness of his catch, only to realize he had caught no giant carp but a kingyo mermaid, who was very much not amused at his attempts to eat her.

The Oni King, proud and arrogant as he was, refused to apologize, instead saying that he would only do so (and on his knees) if she managed to beat him in a sumo wrestling match in a shallow pond. To him, this was going to be a joke. The odds were stacked against the mermaid but the plucky little thing would never back down from a challenge, especially when the one proposing the match was so rude and tried to her!

This little match between them was a short lived one, however, because the mermaid managed to beat him not once—but twice! While the Oni King felt great shame he also earned great respect for the little mermaid and her tenacity… as long as she kept this little match of theirs a secret (he had a reputation to keep and all that!)

They formed a bond afterwards. A very unique friendship between two different Yōkai. They’d often challenge each other for competitions that more often than not were beyond silly: such as who can drink sake the most, or eat a bowl of ramen the fastest, or swim a lap around an island the best. Theirs is a very silly, but very loving rapport, and when not locked into some inane arbitrary competition they love to geek out about giant beetles and creating explosions—pissing off every local authority in the land.