#but Andrew is described the most

[unrequitedloveisabitch]

one of my biggest pet peeves as far as aftg art goes was, for the longest time, everyone making Neil a ginger when he is very clearly described as having auburn hair. Almost direct quote: "he'd had brown hair before, but never this specific shade of brown". Implying his hair is more brown than red. But ANYWAy. Nora corrected people recently and most new Neil art has the right color hair, which I appreciate.

now, my biggest coloring pet peeve is Andrew's eyes...

guys... they're not brown. They're hazel. Hazel is a mix of green and brown and gold. No matter what mix you make them, there should be at least a little green in there for them to be considered hazel. js

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Andrew’s “bottomless rage” and Jean’s “old and ugly rage” are the same in this essay I will -

[stardustravens]

The most upsetting part of this book was Neil getting injured on court… I thought he was safe.

[tomwambsgans]

it's so fucked up that greg actually HAD to have found out at some point, if by no other means than the news long after the fact, that the guy he spent the night before tom's wedding with also died the next night. and we never get ANY clue into what his reaction is????

[cabeswaterdrowned]

girl who does not have a drivers license and hates driving and has no thoughts on cars and also isn’t interested in men at all nonetheless has thoughts on the many homoerotic car metaphors in her favorite series and how that impacts characterization of the men in it…

[m4rs-ex3]

remember when andrew got out of rehab and, as was expected, is being his typical asshole self, hasn't acknowledged anyone, hasn't said a single word, the most Unimpressed a human being can possibly be. and neil is describing all of this obviously. and then without warning is like "i have never felt so safe in all my life. this is what it's like to trust someone. this boy is the only pillar keeping me standing"? so real of him

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Children's Dialogue

Language is extremely complex, yet children already know most of the grammar of their native language(s) before they are 5 years old.

BABBLING

Babbling begins at about 6 months and is considered the earliest stage of language acquisition

By 1 year babbles are composed only of the phonemes used in the language(s) they hear

Deaf babies babble with their hands like hearing babies babble using sounds

FIRST WORDS

After the age of one, children figure out that sounds are related to meanings and start to produce their first words

Usually children go through a holophrastic stage, where their one-word utterances may convey more meaning

Example: "Up" is used to indicate something in the sky or to mean “pick me up”

Most common first words (among the first 10 words uttered in many languages): “mommy,” “daddy,” “woof woof,” “no,” “bye,” “hi,” “yes,” “vroom,” “ball” and “banana”

WORD MEANINGS

When learning words, children often overextend a word’s meaning

Example: Using the word dog to refer to any furry, four-legged animal (overextensions tend to be based on shape, size, or texture, but never color)

They may also underextend a word’s meaning

Example: Using the word dog to refer only to the family pet, as if dog were a proper noun

The Whole Object Principle: When a child learns a new word, (s)he is likely to interpret the word to refer to a whole object rather than one of its parts

SYNTAX

At about two years of age, children start to put words together to form two-word utterances

The intonation contour extends over the two words as a unit, and the two-word utterances can convey a range of meanings:

Example: "mommy sock" = subject + object or possessive

NOTE: Chronological age is NOT a good measure of linguistic development due to individual differences, so instead linguists use the child’s mean length of utterance (MLU) to measure development

The telegraphic stage describes a phase when children tend to omit function morphemes such as articles, subject pronouns, auxiliaries, and verbal inflection

Examples: "He play little tune" or "Andrew want that"

Between 2;6 and 3;6 a language explosion occurs and children undergo rapid development

By the age of 3, most children consistently use function morphemes and can produce complex syntactic structures:

Examples: "He was stuck and I got him out" / "It’s too early for us to eat"

After 3;6 children can produce wh-questions, and relative pronouns

Sometime after 4;0 children have acquired most of the adult syntactic competence

PRAGMATICS

Deixis: Children often have problems with the shifting reference of pronouns

Children may refer to themselves as "you"

Problems with the context-dependent nature of deictic words: Children often assume the hearer knows who s/he is talking about

AUXILIARIES

In the telegraphic stage, children often omit auxiliaries from their speech but can form questions (with rising intonation) and negative sentences

Examples: "I ride train?" / "I not like this book"

As children acquire auxiliaries in questions and negative sentences, they generally use them correctly

SIGNED LANGUAGES

Deaf babies acquire sign language in the same way that hearing babies acquire spoken language: babbling, holophrastic stage, telegraphic stage

When deaf babies are not exposed to sign language, they will create their own signs, complete with systematic rules

IMITATION, REINFORCEMENT, ANALOGY

Children do imitate the speech heard around them to a certain extent, but language acquisition goes beyond imitation

Children produce utterances that they never hear from adults around them, such as "holded" or "tooths"

Children cannot imitate adults fully while acquiring grammar

Example:

Adult: "Where can I put them?" Child: "Where I can put them?"

Children who develop the ability to speak later in their childhood can understand the language spoken around them even if they cannot imitate it

NOTE: Children May Resist Correction

Example: Cazden (1972) (observation attributed to Jean Berko Gleason) – My teacher holded the baby rabbits and we patted them. – Did you say your teacher held the baby rabbits? – Yes. – What did you say she did? – She holded the baby rabbits and we patted them. – Did you say she held them tightly? – No, she holded them loosely.

Another theory asserts that children hear a sentence and then use it as a model to form other sentences by analogy

But while analogy may work in some situations, certainly not in all situations:

– I painted a red barn. – I painted a barn red. – I saw a red barn. – I saw a barn red.

Children never make mistakes of this kind based on analogy which shows that they understand structure dependency at a very young age

BIRTH ORDER

Children’s birth order may affect their speech.

Firstborns often speak earlier than later-born children, most likely because they get more one-on-one attention from parents.

They favor different words than their siblings. 

Whereas firstborns gabble on about animals and favorite colors, the rest of the pack cut to the chase with “brother,” “sister,” “hate” and such treats as “candy,” “popsicles” and “donuts.” 

The social dynamics of siblings, it would appear, prime their vocabularies for a reality different than the firstborns’ idyllic world of sheep, owls, the green of the earth and the blue of the sky.

MOTHER'S LEVEL OF EDUCATION

Children may adopt vocabulary quite differently depending on their mother’s level of education.

In American English, among the words disproportionately favored by the children of mothers who have not completed secondary education are: “so,” “walker,” “gum,” “candy,” “each,” “could,” “wish,” “but,” “penny” and “be” (ordered starting with the highest frequency).

The words favored by the children of mothers in the “college and above” category are: “sheep,” “giraffe,” “cockadoodledoo,” “quack quack,” the babysitter’s name, “gentle,” “owl,” “zebra,” “play dough” and “mittens.” 

BOYS / GIRLS

One area of remarkable consistency across language groups is the degree to which the language of children is gendered.

The words more likely to be used by American girls than by boys are: “dress,” “vagina,” “tights,” “doll,” “necklace,” “pretty,” “underpants,” “purse,” “girl” and “sweater.”

Whereas those favored by boys are “penis,” “vroom,” “tractor,” “truck,” “hammer,” “bat,” “dump,” “firetruck,” “police” and “motorcycle.”

Tips for Writing Children's Dialogue (compiled from various sources cited below):

Milestones - The dialogue you write should be consistent with the child's developmental milestones for their age. Of course, other factors should be considered such as if the child has any speech or intellectual difficulties. Also note that developmental milestones are not set in stone and each child is unique in their own way.

Too "Cutesy" - If your child characters are going to be cute, they must be cute naturally through the force of their personality, not because the entire purpose of their existence is to be adorable.

Too Wise - It’s true kids have the benefit of seeing some situations a little more objectively than adults. But when they start calmly and unwittingly spouting all the answers, the results often seem more clichéd and convenient than impressive or ironic.

Unintelligent - Don’t confuse a child’s lack of experience with lack of intelligence. 

Baby Talk - Don’t make a habit of letting them misuse words. Children are more intelligent than most people think.

Unique Individuals - Adults often tend to lump all children into a single category: cute, small, loud, and occasionally annoying. Look beyond the stereotype.

Personal Goals - The single ingredient that transforms someone from a static character to a dynamic character is a goal. It can be easy to forget kids also have goals. Kids are arguably even more defined by their goals than are adults. Kids want something every waking minute. Their entire existence is wrapped up in wanting something and figuring out how to get it.

Don't Forget your Character IS a Child - Most of the pitfalls in how to write child characters have to do with making them too simplistic and childish. But don’t fall into the opposite trap either: don’t create child characters who are essentially adults in little bodies.

Your Personal Observation - To write dialogue that truly sounds like it could come from a child, start by being an attentive listener. Spend time around children and observe how they interact with their peers and adults. You can also study other pieces of media that show/write about children's behaviour (e.g., documentaries, films, TV shows, even other written works like novels and scripts).

Context - The context in which children speak is crucial to creating realistic dialogue. Consider their environment, who they're speaking to, and what's happening around them. Dialogue can change drastically depending on whether a child is talking to a friend, a parent, or a teacher. Additionally, children's language can be influenced by their cultural background, family dynamics, and personal experiences. Make sure the context informs the dialogue, lending credibility to your characters' voices.

Sources and other related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Writing Notes: On Children ⚜ Childhood Bilingualism More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[kukobs]

no but LET'S TALK about how andrew is (outwardly) apathetic in every aspect of his life and towards every person he interacts with; this man shows nothing but indifference (i'd say half of it is true due to his severe depression and trauma/ the other half is just a performance so as not to hurt others with his rage but himself, as neil deduced).

but the MOMENT he gets to kiss neil he drops his neutral facade and throws his self control out the window -and we KNOW how important being in control is to him- and kisses neil like he wants to extract neil's soul out through his mouth.

neil described it like "he kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil's mouth". my boy was STARVING he did NOT care about mantaining his apatheic front.

how is it possible to go from "i hate you 😐 most of the time i want to kill skin you alive 😒" to "let me kiss you like we're souldiers dying in the trenches and the only air i can breathe is through your mouth"

[theonion]

Following a daring operation that saw authorities seize the man’s property and detain him in an undisclosed location, FBI director Kash Patel announced Thursday that federal agents had uncovered 43 terabytes of free speech from local protestor Andrew Wyman’s residence. “Every American should be chilled to the core by the overwhelming display of constitutionally protected speech we found on this deviant’s computer and phone,” Patel said as he stood before a table covered in countless hard drives, folders, and documents that he described as “disturbing evidence” of America’s most inalienable and foundational right being put into practice. 

Full Story

[bignaz8]

When Bing Crosby's nephew asked him casually, late in Bing's life, about the most difficult moment of his career, he expected some juicy gossip about a difficult Hollywood director or the story of a struggle with a studio. But Bing instead told him it was on a USO tour in December of 1944 in an open-air field in France. He'd just made 15,000 French and American troops laugh and holler with Dinah Shore and The Andrews Sisters and now had to close the show with a quieter number: "White Christmas." He described having to maintain his composure and vocal control in front of 15,000 crying GIs as the toughest moment of his career.

He never wore his toupee on USO tours - a small thing, but he thought these occasions were above Hollywood artifice - and more importantly insisted that no officers or other top brass got front row seats. Front row seats belonged to enlisted men who were headed for the frontlines.

A few days after this performance of White Christmas, his audience was sent to The Battle of the Bulge, one of the deadliest battles in the history of humanity.

[flofaiiry]

why him? ; pope cody x reader

warnings: swearing, probably ooc pope & j

wc: ~580

i am so so sorry if this is extremely ooc for pope or j, i'm basing them off of the two episodes i've watched and a bunch of pope fanfic i've read! i'm imagining this taking place right at the beginning of the show (seeing as that's all ive watched!!)

"i dont want this to come across as like..." josh trails off, searching for the words so as to not offend you, "like, rude or whatever?" he squints, trying not to cringe at how awkward he's being. you smile, "spit it out, kid, i won't be offended."

he takes a beat, slowly nodding before he continues. "why are you..." he glances back to andrew standing inside the house, before turning back to you. "why are you with him?" you raise your eyebrows, "him? you mean andrew?" josh nods, "pope, yeah- andrew i guess."

you cant help but laugh. the sound mostly leaving as forced exhales through your nose. "yeah i guess we're not really alike at all, huh." josh shakes his head, "no, you're definitely not." a small smile coming on his face, now knowing you didn't take his question the wrong way.

you take a sec, honestly thinking about the answer. why were you: college educated, career woman, from a good family, with andrew pope cody of all people. you understood how the question could come up.

you shrug.

"why is anyone with anyone," you smirk. trying to sound philosophical, while also dodging the question. josh just stares at you, not quite getting the sarcasm. you sigh. "to be honest, j? i couldn't tell you why." you admit. "i don't know that there's a reason... i just-," another sigh, collecting your thoughts now.

"i know he's not everyone's cup of tea," you start. "i know he's a lot for some people, i know people don't really get him, i know he can be scary at first..." you're practically rambling now. "i know he's got a staring habit," you tease, earning a laugh from josh, "yeah he definitely does. that shit is unsettling as hell," he admits and you laugh, nodding. "it one hundred percent is but- you'll get used to it i swear."

"really though, j, why is anyone with anyone," you circle back to your earlier point, once filled with sarcasm, now an actual question. "why are you with your girlfriend?" you counter, not trying to deflect, just... curious.

he shrugs. "makes me happy." he says matter-of-factly, "i don't know, she just... gets me." you smile. "exactly."

"is andrew a little... weird? absolutely he is. he's probably the strangest, most complicated person i've ever met but... when i'm with him? when it's just us? god, it's..." you try to find the words to describe how being with andrew makes you feel, but decide to use josh's own.

"he gets me," you say simply, "and i get him."

josh nods slowly, "i guess that's all you need, right? someone that gets you." you smile, "yeah it really is."

"what's all you need?" andrew asks as he emerges from the house, walking over to where you and josh sit on a couch by the pool.

"someone that gets you." you repeat, smiling at your boyfriend while he sits down beside you and drapes his arm across your shoulder. "kid was asking for relationship advice. told him all you need is someone that gets you. the rest will just... fall into place." you fill him in. it's not entirely a lie, but it's enough for andrew not to ask anymore questions.

"uh huh," andrew hums, "got my someone right here." he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile.

for the first time, in this moment, josh thinks he might be understanding why you two are together.

[allforthegaymes]

Somethin about Andrew Minyard who shoves himself face first into danger no matter what risk it poses to himself

Being 5 feet even and still taking on four grown men who try to beat up Nicky outside of Edens.

Knowing his twin brother for less than a few months and willingly killing Tilda, even planning on himself dying in the process if need be.

Andrew willingly putting himself in direct harms way if it means protecting those he loves, while unwilling to put those same people in a even slightly potentially dangerous position.

Andrew who deals with Aarons withdrawals on his own, sat outside a locked bathroom door to intermittently slide his brother new food, water, and clothes. Unwilling to risk sending his brother to a place where he knows people in high positions would be willing to abuse their power, willing to hurt Aaron.

Andrew who despite knowing all of this and making sure Aaron never had to witness it, goes through his own withdrawls at easthaven, knowing what kind of abuse could and would happen to him.

Andrew who promises to protect Kevin and Neil. He knows theyre lying to him and he knows he doesnt know the full truth of who they are and what (who) exactly he is protecting them from.

But he also knows it helps Kevin to have a buddy system to lean on, to have someone who can shove his way through a crowd of exy fans all trying to get at Kevin, both fans and haters of him following his Ravens departure.

The way Neil describes Andrew as being a wall he can lean on and know he wont tilt under the weight of Neil’s past and current issues.

Somethin somethin about Neil looking at Andrew and seeing Andrew in a way no one else can. A way no one else has.

Neil looks at Andrew and sees how his carefully created stony exterior is a way to protect his family, by taking on the brunt of the negative attention from others. Both the other foxes, exy fans, his own classmates.

The rest of the foxes cant hate Aaron or Nicky the most if Andrew is always the one acting out to take all of their feelings of hatred on himself.

And no one recognizes this until Neil.

Neil who sees the way Andrew loves his family so much that hes willing to let them hate him as long as theyre safe.

Neil who knows Aaron thinks Andrew hates him and goes to Katelyn directly to tell her she needs to push to get Aaron into group sessions with Bee to fix his and Andrews relationship, because if Andrew or Neil were the one to suggest it Aaron would be against it.

[girthgrudgefear]

craig's "friend" | craig cody x reader x andrew 'pope' cody

plot summary?: pope walks in on craig and craig's "friend" (you) going at it. what is supposed to be a one-off thing turns into a regular occurrence; and much to craig's chagrin, you couldn't be less bothered by it.

contains?: pope cody, craig cody, reader-insert, shameless smut, creeper pope, mentions of deran, smurf, j, baz, and lena.

warnings?: 18+/minors dni; accidental voyeurism turned not so accidental; healthy amount of cuss words; p in v sex; no protection mentioned; nudity; squirting.

notes?: takes place between s2-3. no beta we die like [airhorn]. no clue how long this is but i think it’s like 2k words

“friends” wasn’t the word that you and craig should use for what you are to each other. but if either of you had to describe it, both parties would concede to the term with no contest.

and it drives pope crazy.

because if pope even had half of what you had with him, if pope even had the chance to touch you the way craig did, you would be his. instantly and infinitely.

but, no, you were craig’s "friend." and he didn’t care, because you were too young for him anyway. and you were too bright. and too soft.

he decided this one night when he turned up at the house.

smurf was out, as were deran and j. but you were on the couch, watching craig play call of duty. for once there were no white lines cut on the coffee table's glass tray, no joint, half-lit, hanging haphazardly from one of smurf's decorative bowls.

no, it was just you and him.

craig, bigger than most, took up an entire cushion in the center of the sofa. he leant forward, both legs spread wide, elbows on the tops of his knees as he essentially button-mashed his way through a campaign. you were curled up next to him, taking up less than a quarter of the cushion beside his. you hugged your knees as you quietly watched him play.

pope, having let himself in through the garage door, walked over from the kitchen when he heard craig seemingly curse to himself.

“shit.” craig sank back into the couch just as captain reyes succumbed to his wounds. the screen doesn’t even have time to reset at his last checkpoint before he pauses the game and tosses his controller to the side.

the tall brunet turns to you in an instant, one of his big hands settled on your left thigh and the other toying with the strap of your bikini top.

“welp.” he says to you, popping the ‘p’. he wastes no time, closing the space between you both to press a chaste kiss to your chest and then another to your neck. when he begins to lightly suckle the skin there, you pull away. making a face, he chases after you until he’s able to lay claim to a patch of skin on your collarbone. this time, with a knowing sigh, you settle.

“i’m not having sex on your mother’s couch, craig. i told you that you need to find a new apartment.”

craig hummed, not paying you any mind. “c’mon, babe.” he sighs wistfully, smoothing his palm down your inner thigh as a means of forcing your knees apart.

“it’s gonna take me forever to find a new one. i can't wait that long.” he said.

you had no time to reply. by the time you turned your head, smart quip on your tongue, craig slipped his into your mouth.

your feigned disinterest is wicked away under his ministrations. secretly, you were waiting for him to touch you, to give you attention, and he knew it. a glutton for pleasure, you would never turn down craig - whatever he gave, you received happily.

craig’s hand crept lower and lower until his fingers hooked on a belt loop on your shorts. reaching down, your knuckles brushed his for a moment as you undid the button and zipper. you barely have time to shuck your bottoms down your thighs when you feel him force his hand past the waistband of your bikini thong.

“fuck. you’re so fucking wet.” he pants against your mouth, a thin trail of spit connecting his bottom lip to yours.

“i’ve been waiting for you to get off of that game for hours.” craig seals his mouth over yours again and any other complaints you have are inconsequential.

you feel two of his fingers nudging against you and you’re damn near vibrating with excitement. you begin to lean away from him once you feel that stretch, finally breaking the kiss once he gives up on being gentle and pushes in to the first knuckle. you reward him with a moan, once breathy, all but punched out of you as he begins to piston his middle and ring finger in and out of you.

and you don’t last long. it’s impossible with the way craig touches you and how ridiculously easy it is for him to get you worked up in the first place. somewhere in the way that he jostled you the thin strap of your bikini, once tied at the nape of your neck, comes loose. you don’t care even when you feel the dainty cups slipping down your chest until one of your breasts is exposed to the air completely. craig, enraptured now by the way you look coming undone, doesn’t miss a beat. you whimper when you feel him latch on to your pebbled nipple.

“m'gonna come.” you ignore the feel of craig’s beard moving against your skin, no doubt in your mind that he’s smirking up at you from where his head is pressed against your chest. you feel hot all over, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. you push yourself up off of the cushion just slightly, leaning into him, opening your legs wider as he keeps his strokes at the same steady pace. and then it washes over you at once, body taut, knees wobbling, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he helps you through your high like an obedient soldier.

"fuck me."

would have been the next thing to come out of your mouth, naturally. but when you opened your eyes as best as you could past the haze threatening to put you under, you noticed something beyond craig staring at you, taking you in in your blissed-out state. standing between the couch and the far wall right at the entrance of the living room was none other than pope cody.

you've heard of him the same way you've heard of ghost stories. the boogeyman of oceanside. but to see him like this, staring at you with his brows set and his hands laying stiffly at his sides, does something to you.

because he isn't just handsome, he's cody handsome, definitely craig's brother in the sharp angle of his cheekbones and jaw. and you've never seen eyes so dark yet so clear. he's not missing anything that craig is doing to you and somewhere through the fog you wonder how long he's been standing there, anyway.

the thought excites you enough that when craig keeps going, you do little to deter him, deter either one of them in fact. grip still tight on his wrist, you hold craig there even though the stimulation is bordering on torture. his fingers keep the same pace that got you off the first time and that steadiness, mixed with the sound of your wetness as he fucks you a second time, is a feedback loop for your arousal.

pope didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. most girls would have yelled. covered themselves up, maybe thrown something at him half-heartedly in their shock or terror. but there was something so intriguing in the way you watched him watch you. how you widen your legs, as if to present yourself to him. how you reach down to keep craig where he is. your pupils are nearly blown and your eyelids half-mast from the pleasure, your hair in disarray where it falls down your sides of your neck and down your back. the part of your chest that's exposed is flushed and it heaves with every breath you take.

pope is about as aware of how close you are as craig is. he watches as you lift yourself up off the couch just slightly, how craig sits up with you. your legs are shaking now and craig has the hand that isn't toying with your pussy trained at your waist, trying in vain to keep you from squirming under his stimulation. slowly, you begin to roll your hips against his fingers.

and andrew isn't sure for a moment if you're looking at him or through him the moment you come, heavy eyelids going wide for a second before closing to slits. "craig- ah! ah~!" is the only thing you can let out as craig begins to press kisses to your slack jaw.

and if you weren't looking at pope before, you sure were now. holding his gaze, you card your hands through craig's curls then grip him by the base of his neck and pull him in. you all but shove your tongue down his throat and he moans into your mouth, still blissfully unaware of your spectator.

then you pull away, yanking craig's hands out of your pants all the while. you shove your shorts back up your thighs, paying no mind to the way the fabric of your swimsuit bottoms bunch up underneath the denim. with the fly of your zipper still down and your shorts still unbuttoned, you work on fixing your bikini top, pulling the triangle over your exposed breast and securing the spaghetti straps around your neck.

"wait! where are you going?" craig asks.

"um. i forgot i have some errands i need to run." you offer lamely. your legs are still shaking when you stand.

craig sits back, still turned toward you, and watches as you gather your bag and hoist it over your shoulder. and it is only when he watches you walk toward the shelves leading to the hallway that he notices pope there.

"dude, what the hell?" he regards his brother with his hands thrown up in the air.

pope, however, pays him no mind, watching you as you approach. he's still standing stock-still in the same position though his head turns stiffly to watch as you squeeze past him.

"nice meeting you." you offer as your shoulder brushes his bicep. other than his intense gaze he offers no form of acknowledgement. though as you make your way down the hall, you feel his eyes burning holes into your back. it adds to your humiliation in a way; you can't help but wonder as you turn the key in your ignition and drive away what kind of pervert he must think you are.

"pope."

andrew turns to his brother, who is still staring at him with that stupid look of confusion, and maybe a little fear. "dude, that is not cool."

a beat of silence and then pope says,

"she's right. you do need your own place."

and walks away.

~~

craig gets his own place, eventually, and that place is baz's place. technically.

still sore from the loss of his best friend and subsequently his niece, pope despises the way his little brother quickly turned the homey two-bedroom into a total pigsty. clothes are everywhere. there are crumbs on the counter. someone has only just begun to make a dent in the dishes and there is a pot set on the stove with soap and water to soak.

so, that's the first clue he gets that craig isn't alone, because craig doesn't cook. doesn't know how and even in his mid-thirties that fact doesn't bother him one bit.

the shower is on. it's a good place to start. the only thing that draws him out is the sound of an unfamiliar voice; he can just barely make out a hum over the falling water.

the bathroom door is ajar and pope is never one to deny himself easy access. he had half an idea of who may be in there and he prays it isn't actually his brother, because he doesn't want to see craig's nads or find out that he likes to sing the little mermaid when he's alone.

but he is pleasantly rewarded when he sees you through the crack in the shower curtain. back towards him, you had your head buried under the stream, letting the soap run down your back.

he was obsessed with the way your skin looked. soft, from the stretch marks on your round butt to the large scar on your shoulder blade. his hindbrain took over for a moment and he felt overwhelmed with the urge to touch you, to feel the way the muscles of your thigh would ripple and give if he were to grab you there, pull you close to him.

it wasn't often that pope dwelled like this, let his depravity take over him. so he has the sense to at least look a little surprised, a little embarrassed when you turned around and reared back when you noticed you were no longer alone.

again, you were one of the strangest people pope had ever met. rather than admonish him for walking in on you like this, you simply continued your motions. both hands in your hair, you worked at the tangles you got from running on the beach and playing in the waves earlier.

the only indication that you were aware of pope's presence was the way you held his gaze. you took a step back until half of your body was underneath the water, closed your eyes and tilted your head back.

it was only when you broke eye contact that pope allowed his eyes to wander. from the strawberry skin on your arms to your tits. he took his time admiring most of all, however, how your soft tummy gave way to the tuft of hair covering your pussy.

fuck you were perfect.

this continued until you turned back towards the downpour, stood under it for a moment longer before turning the dial and shutting it off.

you turned back and pope was still standing there, hands hooked in either of his pants pockets, still taking in your frame. you lingered for a moment as you wrung your hair out.

"knock much?" is all you said to him once you were done.

he blinked at that.

funny. craig didn't mention that you were funny.

there was no reply, and you honestly weren't expecting one. craig told you that pope doesn't talk much to people he doesn't know. and it's a funny thought - he saw you cum, twice, but, no, he didn't know you. not one bit.

but if you didn't know it before, you definitely knew now that he wanted to know you.

reaching up, you pulled your towel down from where it hung haphazardly over the shower rod. pulling it over your body, you stepped out of the shower and down onto the bath mat you purchased for craig not too long ago.

"if you're looking for craig, he's at deran's bar. he said he'd be back soon, so. i'm sure he wouldn't mind if you waited."

wordlessly, he turned away from you and went to lena's old room.

~

pope hated it. hated the way he could see craig's shit strewn about what was once lena's room. he hated that baz was gone, hated that nobody else showed interest in lena but him and smurf. between the both of them, the kid was a lost cause.

he wondered absently if you liked kids.

speak of the devil, you walked past the open bedroom door in pursuit of the kitchen. when he heard you approach, he turned to watch you pass by and ambled after you.

you moved quickly, flitting about the main space in little other than one of craig's t-shirts and a pair of boyshorts. if the curve of your ass wasn't enough of a sight, he could make out the outline of your pussy lips through the thin material.

he felt like a teenage boy again, praying that you couldn't see that he was half-hard in his own pants.

you turned around and it was like god had no mercy on him, the way your nipples were hard through the loose-fitting shirt.

"i made pasta if you're hungry." you said.

though he didn't verbalize his assent, you took pope taking up one of the barstools by the counter as acceptance enough. with one of the clean plates you loaded into the dishwasher last night, you got him a healthy serving, heated it up, and then served it to him. you then turned to finish the dishes you began washing before your trip to the beach.

"thanks." says pope, almost as an afterthought, as he begins to eat. it was delicious. he was in distress.

"he does talk!" you say aloud in feigned awe, though your back remained turn to him. a single corner of his lips curled upward for a moment as he scowled at your back.

smart-ass.

silence lulled between you both; you cleaned, he ate. but soon enough the front door unlocked and in came the bumbling oaf he came to see.

neither of you noticed but he quickly deflated at the thought of no longer being alone with you.

"hey, man." though he's talking to pope craig is shameless in the way he checks you out on his approach. you're oblivious to both men, drying each dish one by one and reaching up on your tippy toes to put them in the cabinet.

"you looking for me?"

craig knows that his question is a dud, because who else would he be looking for?

though seeing how easily you and pope exist around each other, he sure has his suspicions. pope doesn't take easily to being around strangers, and, to pope, you were a stranger. or at the very least, in craig's mind, you'd better be.

jealousy is a new emotion for craig and he hates it. not even renn has had such an effect on him but fuck if you weren't like his own personal form of catnip.

"we need to talk." is all pope says once craig closes in on the space between them. as both men wander out to the patio, pope turns around long enough to see you lean over the counter, grab his empty plate, and wash it at the sink.

~~

he has to stop seeing you like this.

no, seriously, for his own health, he has to stop.

the next time pope saw you was at a party thrown at smurf's house in her absence. every other cody attended but the matriarch was nowhere to be found, not that pope could find it in him to mind.

there were people everywhere. j sat poolside with his feet in the water, watching deran and adrian play chicken with some of their other surf buddies in the deep end of the water.

the only one missing from their brood was craig. and it was important that the party ended relatively soon and the four found a way to meet; after casing the joint all afternoon their newest prospective job may not be as easy as they once thought.

pope made his way inside, pushing past drunk partygoers as he did so.

aside from alcohol, the kitchen and living room looked surprisingly kosher. no white powder, no glass pipes. no rolled up dollar-bills or straws, which was great, because craig turned into a whiney bitch when he got high.

between deran and craig's old rooms was a jack-and-jill bathroom. entering from deran's side was easy enough after he kicked out two drunk losers petting each other down on the bed.

he locked the bathroom door from deran's side and made his way over to the toilet bowl to relieve himself. but before he could so much as let down the fly to his zipper, he heard it. he heard you.

slowly, he made his way across the narrow path, past the double-sink embedded in the counter, and to the door on the other side of the room.

same as last time, the door is ajar. slowly, he steps up and peers into the crack. sees you sitting on the edge of the bed with your legs open, wide, and a brown head of hair occupying the space between your thighs.

craig is virtually always in some stage of undress so pope pays no mind to his butt cheeks but the sight you is enough to almost make him pop off in his pants. you're naked, your face flushed. your nipples are hard. craig slaps your bare clit once, twice, and you flinch at the sensation both times, breasts bouncing as you jerk your hips.

then his mouth is over the tender flesh, as if to soothe the sting of his harsh actions, and you throw your head back at the contact. as quickly as he's over you, he's inside of you, two fingers deep down to the knuckle.

"fuck, baby." your voice is husky and pope isn't sure if it's from the liquor that’s undoubtedly in your system or your arousal. he can see how wet you are even from where he's standing; you're glistening from your inner thighs, to your lips, and all the way around craig's fingers.

squelching and the occasional whimper is the only noise that fills the room. craig is precise as always, already nudging against that spot inside of you that makes your jaw go slack. he notices immediately and keeps the same pace, watching through his long eyelashes as he plucks you apart.

simultaneously, his mouth can't stop moving against you, devouring you much like a man starved. you taste so fucking good, you remember him moaning against your pussy one night, all but rubbing his erection against the bed as he licked you from your hole to your clit.

"i'm so close." you whine. and he believed it, because not long after craig set his steady, bruising pace, you were there. legs shaking from where they sought purchase on craig's shoulders, you let out a cry that sounded almost pained. pope watched as your spend trickled out of you and down craig’s beard in short, quick spurts. your hips shook with the effort it took to grind down on craig’s fingers, one of your hands coming down on his wrist to hold him in place as you work yourself through your orgasm.

“you’re so fucking pretty.” craig all but coos up at you when you finally stop. he kisses your clit once and you jump away before settling down on the mattress again.

chest heaving, you card your hand through his hair, stopping when you reach the base of his neck and grab at the tendrils caught between your fingers. when you tug at them he rises to his feet, licks into your open mouth so that you can taste your arousal on him.

“a-ah!”

your voice rises another octave when craig’s hand is replaced by his dick, the swap so quick you barely have time to register what’s happening until his hips press against yours.

“so. fucking. tight.” he accentuates every word with a thrust, relishing in the way your head falls back. when you’re upright again, head midline, he presses a hot kiss to your mouth.

somewhere in between you squirting and craig breaching you, pope found himself undoing his belt buckle, shoving his hand down the waistband of his boxers.

and, no, pope can’t find it in him to be ashamed, to read into the deeper meaning of him only coveting things that belong to his brothers. craig is the last thing on his mind, far from it, when he grabs his dick and smears the pre-cum pebbling from the head all over his tip. it’s easy to forget that craig is there when he’s so busy imagining himself between your legs, imagining himself tasting you, imagining himself fucking you until you soak his boxers.

no, craig is inconsequential.

dry masturbation is always shitty but it isn’t about that. it’s about thinking about how you’d feel squeezing him like that, how you’d open your legs wider to accommodate him when he’s moving inside of you.

his hand passes over his dick in time with the way your body jumps with every thrust, his chest heaving to the same tempo as your shallow breaths. and when your moans morph into short gasps, he’s there with you too.

pope has to reach out and grip the edge of the counter next to him, knuckles white, when he finally cums. breathing heavy through his nose, he’s thankful that you aren’t shy about using your voice, your cries easily drowning out the sound of his pants.

“f-u-uck.” craig pulls out of you as he cums, watching as your orgasm leaks out of you and dribbles to the floor in a weak spurt. you’re too busy sitting there, hands gripping the sheets, mouth agape and eyes clouded with the haze of your afterglow.

pope is zipping his pants now, watching in disgust as he notices craig’s spend painting the patch of hair dusted over your pussy lips. his button is done, belt nearly secured around his hips when he catches sight of your face and does a double-take.

somehow, through the fog, you managed to catch his eye in the crack of the doorway.

and like the little minx you were, you waited a beat so that he knew that you knew that he was there.

then your tongue darted out to lave over your swollen bottom lip.

and you smiled at him, a full-on, shit-eating grin.

you recover by the time craig finishes admiring his work (he once told you that you looked hottest with his cum on you), drawing him closer to you by hooking one leg around his hip. he closes the space between you both, pressing his forehead to yours. your noses rub against each other for a moment as he brings you in for a kiss; short, sweet. it’s almost too intimate for a delicate situation such as this but then again you’re also washing his dishes and buying bath mats for his place, so. maybe that boundary has long been diminished.

craig opens his eyes to look at you mid-way into the kiss and notices that your eyes have wandered towards the door. pulling back, he turns to follow your gaze. he notices a gap in the doorway and immediately pulls away from your grabbing hands, more than a little pissed.

“yo, who’s there?” he asks. the usual neutrality in his tone is long gone now, replaced by something sharper. something aggressive.

“did you see someone there?” he asks when he turns back to you. the remaining post-coital bliss is washed away as if someone snatched a wool blanket from over your head.

you blink owlishly at him once, twice. shake your head hesitantly at first and then firmly after. but craig won’t be deterred. he feels the heat on his neck now.

his mind immediately goes to pope; how you told him that night that pope came visiting you both that the older man had caught you in the shower. how his confusion and then annoyance had been kissed away when you straddled him, assuring him that it was only for a moment before pope went to the living room to wait for him to arrive.

“who the fuck,” craig backs away from you and turns. his fist comes down on the dresser pushed up against the wall in the room, hard. you jump, your hands flying up to cover your mouth. “is in here, huh?”

craig is in front of the door in two long, quick strides, grabbing it by the edge of the wood and yanking it open. “pope, i swear to god—”

but he opens the door to find the bathroom empty despite the light being on.

he is thorough when he checks the room; even opens the shower door and peers into it twice. he takes a spare rag from the linen closet, runs it under the faucet, and returns to you. you’re still at the end of the bed, stock-still after watching his little rampage.

yeah, somewhere along the way the carefully-laid bricks of your “friendship” began to crumble. this is a simple fix, you thought to yourself half-heartedly, jumping as he runs the cool cloth over your sore clit.

~

pope made it all the way back to his car without stopping that night. then he proceeded to drive himself home in funeral silence, gripping the steering wheel like a vice the entire way home.

when he got to his house, he immediately locked the door, walked to the bed.

shoved his pants halfway down his thigh and let the image of you play behind his closed eyelids again and again. came twice, one after the other, at the thought of you beneath him, on top of him, on your knees in front of him.

he slept four hours that night.

fin

[inafieldofstarflowers]

forever thinking about the scene where nicky talks to neil about how he can’t let exy be the only thing giving his life meaning because it will never love him back & how harshly it contrasts with Neil’s way of thinking about exy as outlined in the literal first chapter of tfc, because i think it’s an underrated moment in neil’s development—it’s after this conversation that Neil starts thinking about how he’s started sharing his secrets, specifically with andrew (and immediately backpedals from those thoughts when they get too close to him actually examining that trust in andrew with a promise to never listen to nicky again).

there’s so much in this conversation to unpack, but one of the most important parts (to me) is the paragraph where neil is watching as nicky talks about erik, and describes it as:

Nicky's smile was slow and pleased as he thought about his long-distance boyfriend. It was a more reserved expression than Neil usually saw on his face. It made Neil wonder if Nicky was naturally loud or if he exaggerated his outgoing nature to balance his unfriendly cousins.

i personally love this moment for the insight into nicky’s character—it’s one of a handful of times people wonder how sincere nicky’s performance of effusive joy is—but i also think it’s a part of why neil can’t just brush off nicky’s words: he recognizes nicky dropping a mask, even just a bit, as he talks about erik, and i think he realizes that he’s been dropping his own when it comes to andrew.

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[plaidos]

do you have any personal favorite comics by transfems, or ones you’d just generally recommend?

i doubt that Andrew Hussie would self-describe as transfeminine per se but they are trans and genuinely, not joking, Homestuck has some of the most interesting things to say about gender out of any webcomic i’ve read. it’s an incredibly sophisticated trans narrative despite its sheer memetic infamy.

beyond that i personally love @cyelatm i think it’s probably the best lesbian relationship comic on the internet right now (followed by WLH but @keithstack isn’t a trans woman so i can’t include him on this list. yet)

@hausofdecline is similarly fucking incredible like truly some of the best webcomic per webcomic i’ve seen in years

if you’re more into traditional comics, i read and enjoyed the first volume of Kim & Kim, which i think might’ve gotten picked up as some other title (my brain wants to say “Oh Shit it’s Kim & Kim” or something)

followers add suggestions of transfem led comics & webcomics