#but i still vastly prefer tumblr

[woolydemon]

tumblr remains my go-to site to be chronically online on

[prismatic-starstuff]

okay was anyone going to tell me that ascended Astarion calls MC 'little love' and 'my treasure' in the smoothest most sultry voice I've ever heard or was I just supposed to get absolutely smacked around the head with that knowledge myself—

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[firealder2005]

I honestly don’t post about any sports all that often. But this Super Bowl compelled me to write this.

Now, right out the gate I will tell you I am a KC Chiefs fan. I was born one. I am a third-generation fan, going back to my grandpa who picked them at 19 when they were a godawful team and barely televised through my mom’s childhood, because only the good teams were televised then — so if they could watch them, it was to watch them get POUNDED.

I got to watch them win a Super Bowl after a 50 year drought. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially since I was constantly picked on at school by a classmate because of my team (he would go out of his way to harass me whenever his team — Ravens, btw — beat the Chiefs. And he was blissfully quiet the whole day after).

I got to see them win another one two years ago, in the affectionately nicknamed Kelce Bowl because of the Kelce brothers playing against each other. That was a fun year.

And another one after that.

Am I all that cut up about them losing this year?

No. I am not. Because I know it’s just a game. The dudebros need to chill out fr.

But I also know that this year…it wasn’t quite just a game, either. There’s other forces at play.

I honestly had no idea that some of the major Chiefs players supported trump until today. Just before I started writing this, in fact. I didn’t know trump wanted them to win either.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when I found that out.

I don’t consider myself to be a fanatic fan. But I am a proud fan. Someone once called me a bandwagon and I got offended.

But. But.

I am not a fan of this. Of the support and cozying up to of fascism, racism, queerphobia, you name it. It boggles my mind too because there are Black players on the Chiefs, there are Black players who CARRY the NFL’s legacy on their backs, and to support the trump administration is to take away their support.

You know what I am a fan of?

The political message of Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show.

I have never listened to any of Kendrick’s discography. I’ve never really been all that into hip hop or rap (my whiteness is showing I know).

Honestly, while I was watching, a lot of what was going on flew over my head. And I also had a hard time hearing the lyrics 🫣 again, not used to this genre of music 😅

But that’s what I thank tumblr for. Tumblr always has a way of bringing the unknown into the spotlight, and expanding my own knowledge on it.

I am very much not knowledgeable on the Black history surrounding Kendrick’s performance. But looking back, with a fresh set of eyes, what I do know and have put in effort to learn starts to be clear.

And I think it was genius. I think Kendrick Lamar’s performance is what saved this Super Bowl for me because I am vastly disappointed in my team right now, and still would have been even if they won.

I do not begrudge the Eagles their win. After all, this was a rematch 😜 Only fair you have your time to shine.

But in all seriousness, I think I prefer a loss to a win simply because I would not be able to enjoy that win knowing what I do now.

Besides. if it comes with the bonus of trump’s night being ruined? having to live with spending TAXPAYER MONEY (my money!!) to go and watch the game only to leave halfway through because Kendrick called him out? good. I can handle the sidelong taunts about the Chiefs and their bad decisions. I am mature enough to see that.

I am mature enough to see that an Eagles win, packed with Kendrick Lamar ripping the right a new one, is a win for us all — Chiefs fans included.

The next four years will be tough. But with such a spectacular performance? The trans flag? The Palestine and Sudan flag? Everything?

I think we have what we need to keep fighting. Kendrick, Chappell Roan, Lady Gaga, all of these artists lending their voices to support those who will be grievously impacted by what comes next is so important, especially at events like the Grammies and the Super Bowl. It shows that people care.

It shows that we can always care.

It’s just a game, yeah. But now it’s so much more.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons

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A/n: I wanna emphasize further headcanons for Sylus cause he got me in a chokehold, NSFW isn’t a lot cause I couldn’t think of much. I hope you like this one! Also, when I was writing this, Rafayel was on my screen saying “Babe don’t move, I wanna see if I can see myself in the reflection of your eyes” I am so sorry baby boy. Also, I apologize for the separated posts, I, once again, reached the Tumblr limit. <( •̀ᴖ•́)>

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader

Not beta read!

Warning: Toxic! Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Forced Drug Usage, Exhibitionism, BDSM, Sadistic! Sylus, Cussing, Blood, SYLUS! (He gets his own warning) If there are warnings that I didn’t notice, please let me know, thank you!

Masterlist Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons (Part One)

Sylus NSFW Headcanons

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SFW:

✄ He wouldn’t forget about the men you keep in your life; they’re so obsessed with you that they all got impacted by your disappearance, especially Rafayel, who was the one that got you into the situation, he knows that the guy was the reason why you almost died, twice? Was it thrice? Anyways that’s too much for someone who says that they loved you for 800 years, (He’s a full-time stalker, do you think his raven wouldn’t hear your conversation when that man got hospitalized?)

✄ For his amusement... he usually tends to give them little trinkets of your possessions where they live or lets you send a message to them once in a while. Just to mess with them, after all, they're the ones who got to have plenty of time with you, and yet here you are, in his home. He considers himself the winner right now.

✄ Out of all the male leads, the one he considers to be a big threat was Lumiere, the number of times he almost got caught with you, that man is crazy. (as if he isn’t) so whenever he lets you out, he makes sure you’re not identifiable, it’s simple really, he uses a device that changes your appearance to look vastly different from your looks.

✄ In terms of Physical affection, he would do it when you still despise him, he’d force you to kiss him, planting his lips on yours while you squirm from your chains, try to bite his lips, he’ll slap your thighs with a baton, specifically your inner thighs mind you, since it hurts so much more there. Yeah, keep trying to hurt him, he’ll make sure to give it back tenfold.

✄ Does he hug you? He does, though the type of hugs he gives aren’t comfortable, it’s where you can’t move, can’t leave or squirm your way out of his hold, he’s strong enough to hold you down.

✄ Cry for him! He likes seeing your tears, angry tears, or pained tears, he doesn’t care, he just wants to see you sob. While he loves that you’re bratty, he also prefers obedient mutts as stated in the first headcanons. If he needs to punish you for that he’s very much willing.

✄ He does drug you often. He likes watching you turn into a mush, a pliant pet for him, he doesn’t take advantage of you in this state though, he just gets tired of your constant squirming when he wants your cuddle after a long day of work, he’d come back to his home, his bodyguards and servants greeting him enthusiastically (they’re forced to) while you on the other hand, just spat insult after insult to him. He would appreciate the feisty personality you have if he has the energy for it.

✄ He’d grab your cheeks in a bruising grip before he grabs a pill box, finding the right drug to put you in a state where you reciprocate his love for you, he forces your jaw open before pouring 3 pills into your mouth.

✄ “Drink” he’d ordered, you gasped, trying to push the pills out of your throat, “spit it out, you’ll regret it” his voice harsh, while he forces cold water down your throat, making sure that you drank it, the moment he lets your cheeks go, you’d be coughing and gasping for air, he drenched your shirt too cause of what he did, but he doesn’t care, you’re acting like a feral dog, be ready to be treated like one.

✄ The moment the drugs start to circulate in your system, making you tired and obedient, he’ll carry you to the bed, where you were supposed to be, but didn’t like being on since that bed reminded you that you were trapped.

✄ In times like this, he turns vulnerable, asking you to tell him how much you love him, he likes hearing it, you never told him those words, and he could only hear it when you’re drugged out.

✄ You cuddle him, breathing ragged while he traces his fingers on your back, causing you to shiver, it was cold and hot at the same time, and the only comfort you feel is when you’re pressed against his body, he is the only solace you feel when you’re in this state, and you hated it.

✄ When he tells you he loves you, you respond so eagerly, like a proper mutt.

✄ He'd plant kisses on your face, his hand gently holding your back to adjust your position on his lap. Your skin, warm from the effects of the drugs, pressed against his. Seizing the moment, he continued kissing you, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he left bites, he’d savor your whimpers.

✄ Oh, but if you mention any of the male lead’s name except for him while you’re in a dreamlike state,  he’d be fuming with jealousy, but it’s not obvious, his subtle hints would be on his body language, the way his kisses became rougher, he bites your bottom lip, breaking skin and making you bleed, if you wince in pain, he’d have a sneer on his face.  His grip on your back would go to your waist, chubby or not, he’d have you under his mercy, his hands tugging your cuffs and placing your wrists on top of your head.

“Even if your brain’s a mush you never fail to hit a nerve pretty”

✄ After you fall asleep under his “care”, he’ll take care of you, changing your outfit before he tucks you to bed, you’ll often wake up alone, but with a letter that says that he’ll be expecting proper etiquette from you next time.

✄ Does he say “I love you” to you? If you’re still mad at him, he would out of spite, He would infuse it with such sweetness that it’s guaranteed to make you angrier. Honestly, he loves seeing you try to piss him off. Keep going, love; you're at least one step closer.

✄ On the other hand, once you develop Stockholm syndrome, he won’t say it much, you didn’t become boring, he just likes seeing you desperate to please him, to get his love so he stops his affections just for you to beg for it.

✄ Is it hard to withhold loving you? Nope, it’s easy for him, he lived without your constant affection, even during the months he kept you in his home, you didn’t give him the privilege of your love, so he doesn’t mind not touching you at all, not giving you the attention you want, or the verbal affirmation if he still loved you.

✄ Once you start crying and begging, that’s where he’d hush you, petting your head before he kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry pretty, I’m here now, don’t cry” He’d coo before you hug him as if your life depended on it.

[a-purple-crow]

banner: vysleix, dividers: aquazero & anitalenia (tumblr)

content: silco x gn!reader, sfw, hcs, 2nd person, little/no spoilers for arcane, reader fills a role similar to sevika for silco

warning(s): may be ooc, alcohol & smoking mention, possessiveness mention

a/n: i haven’t even finished all of arcane but this man has been possessing my thoughts!!! enjoy :3

𝜗𝜚— this man will never be direct or verbal with you until it gets very serious. good luck communicating.

𝜗𝜚— once serious with you, he will verbally allude to the vast amount of affection he holds for you (“they’re satisfactory”, “I don’t mind their company”, etc), while his actions show how much he actually cares for you

𝜗𝜚— always has you by his side whenever he can. if a job requires separation from him, he will send sevika for it first. he prefers to keep you nearby.

𝜗𝜚— but he still does trust you to get anything done. because of his lack of direct communication with you, it’s easy to think he just doesn’t think you’re capable. if you attempt to “prove” yourself to him, even though there was no need he’ll be impressed.

𝜗𝜚— doesn’t enjoy physical touch with most people - but you’re not most people. won’t invite the touch but if you happen to touch him, he won’t bat an eye.

𝜗𝜚— offers you a drink or a smoke every time you’re in his office and not working. you get a glass of his favourite whiskey (if you like it, if not he’ll get something in that you actually enjoy), and can sit on or even at his desk and use his ashtray.

𝜗𝜚— gets strangely possessive over you. someone at a meeting vaguely alludes that they wouldn’t mind having you as their right hand, and silco snaps and calls you “his”. his assistant, he means, but everyone else knows he feels differently.

𝜗𝜚— would allow you to scold jinx once or twice. wouldn’t feel comfortable allowing you to be like a second parent to her, but would be okay with you stepping in from time-to-time. whether or not jinx actually listens to you is a vastly different story.

𝜗𝜚— loves when you fix his outfit every morning - watching you carefully as you tie his tie, adjust his collar, brush a hair back from where it’s come loose… every time you’re done, he takes your hand, kisses the back of it, and then the two of you silently go about your day.

𝜗𝜚— will monologue to you constantly about the underworld this and loyalty that and back in my day, yada, yada, yada. he just feels comfortable enough to tell you his full philosophy, and really wants you in particular to understand him and his actions.

𝜗𝜚— when you and sevika have bad news for silco, you both know you’re gonna be the one to deliver it. he’s never as outwardly angry when it’s you telling him.

𝜗𝜚— he loves simply observing you, quietly and carefully, taking note of all your tiny features and habits that would be hard to notice otherwise.

𝜗𝜚— the only time he ever allows himself a moment of tenderness or vulnerability is with jinx, and with you. helping him with his appearance and you notice him leaning into your touch, a softened expression on his face. it only lasts a few seconds, but he allows you to hold him for just those moments, before it’s back to business.

[contraryclock]

stupid ass Don Quixote ramblings

hi this is my first tumblr post but i really wanted a good place to put this

spoilers for all of current limbus company, including Murder on the warp Express, the Don Quixote book (( kinda )), and a musical (( i'll get there ))

please humor this deranged rant about a character i havent read the source book of

so basically ive had a theory since Don was even teased that she's less so based on book Don Quixote and moreso based on the Man of La Mancha musical which is. an insane thing to suggest but hear me out here (( ive since changed how i word my stance to the much more mild "it will most likely delve into the themes of both works and reference both" because suggesting they would discount the book entirely is TRUE insanity ))

her quote (( from teaser tweets that i cannot find anymore? they seem like they were deleted which sucks )) was "To reach the unreachable star!" or something which is notably not a quote from the original book ((as far as im aware at least?)), and suggests. a lot i think!

One of the most notable differences between Man of La Mancha and the original Don Quixote is their tone and attitude towards Quixote. In the original text, he's shown to be a fool who is ignorant to the vastly more interesting world around him, and prefers to instead sink deeper into his delusions of reality equating to chivalric literature. This makes sense as Don Quixote was written as a parody and mockery of the genre

La Mancha is, notably, much more forgiving on Quixote's character, showing that while still a fool, and his insanity often detrimental to those around him, he is still a good person at heart and that he truly wishes to pursue this justice he posits

I usually say it as "Don Quixote is about how reality is beautiful, and La Mancha is about how sometimes one should strive to make reality a little more fantastical" although i dont know if that. is the most accurate comparison. both Don Quixote and La Mancha have a lot of themes and stuff going on

one of the things that made me scream was learning about "Miguel" being written on don's LCB combat spritesheet instead of her listed name

which if you've seen or read a summary of la mancha is a huge alarm bell

In La Mancha, the whole thing is shown as a Play within a Play

Miguel de Cerventes is sent to prison, awaiting trial by the inquisition, and is tasked with defending himself in a mock trial with the other prisoners so they dont take his belongings. His defense is Don Quixote, Man of La Mancha! With the prisoners acting out the various roles he assigns them, and him acting as the leading man, Don Quixote himself!

that was most of the things that made me think "Oh, maybe it'll be La Mancha!" and then this happened

and i sort of lost my god damned mind

because like what if this is miguel... what if shes simultaneously playing out her life as don quixote as a her delusion, and as her dream, but also as a statement...

idk but this isnt JUST about Man of La Mancha bc i think this has a few implications for how don's canto is going to go

In both don quixote and la mancha, they send someone to cure quixote of his delusions

The final thing they try is setting up an act where a "Knight of Mirrors" duels with Quixote, which ends up working.

The Knight forces Quixote to see how he is perceived by others, to see the truth that he is no knight.

ignoring the stuff with vampires and mirrors for a second, i feel like this could be more mirror world shenanigans, where either the knight IS a mirror world don quixote, or is someone who will show her mirror worlds. Whatever that will imply!!! i dont know its exciting!!!!!

Her being absurdly old and powerful, plus bloodfiends having a whole familial adjacent hierarchy makes me think theres a LOT of bloodfiends out there that would want her back

I dunno!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

im insane!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! i just wanted to get my thoughts out before her canto actually happened so i can say that i did indeed have an opinion on this

-limbus assets taken form Lunartique's asset google drive go look at it -text written by me and not proofread

ok thanks bye dont follow me byeee byeeeeee

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: july 2024

full disclosure: I started out July in a bit of a mental lurch, really feeling stuck in a rut. there are a lot of reasons for that, absolutely none of which need to be shared with the general populace of tumblr dot com, but suffice to say that I was feeling listless and reading was not a high priority. I was pretty content to accept that this was going to be another month where I didn't finish a lot of books. I was too busy for most of June, and now too unfocused and bummed out in July.

and then that ended up not being the case. I think I can chalk that up to three things:

very early in the month I realized that none of the reading I had been planning on getting to was grabbing my interest at all, so I did something drastically different: picked up a YA memoir that I bought at pride on the recommendation of a bookseller. not my usual kind of reading at all, but YA is very readable and memoirs grab me fast because I'm nosy, so I figured it might be great for getting out of a rut. and boy, was I right!

Akwaeke Emezi also has a new novel out, and if you don't know then please note now that I'm a person second and an Akwaeke Emezi fan first. their newest novel was a sinister joyride, non-stop twists and turns that I couldn't put down until I saw the characters through to their bitter ends.

and, of course, over in the Dungeon Meshi manga I got to Mithrun. I've only had Mithrun for a couple of chapters, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this dungeon and then myself. even if I hadn't been able to read anything else, that would have kept me running back to the library for more Dungeon Meshi.

all of which added up to a fairly voracious appetite for books being reignited in my brain, and my second most book-heavy month of the year so far (still haven't beat May, but there's time). sick!

so - what have I been reading?

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 7-10 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2019-2022) - mannnnn I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said elsewhere, but Dungeon Meshi is so. fucking good. the way that Kui starts to raise the stakes of the story and grow the world beyond the core band of adventurers is so conscientious and well-done, timed perfectly so it never feels like having an undercooked heap of fantasy exposition thrown at you all at once. instead everything proceeds at a perfect simmer, leaving me feeling like the frog in that pot of boiling water who didn't notice how dire things had gotten until it was very suddenly too late and I was screaming bloody murder at a book. things have gotten so dire that I'm yearning for the days when fighting a red dragon was our biggest problem - and yet, through it all, every character remains rendered with humanity and compassion, no matter how scary, dangerous, or outright alien they first appear. I'm not naming any spoilers, but I need [REDACTED] to fix shit ASAP in Vol. 11 and [SUPER REDACTED] is on my shitlist fucking forever. also Mithrun sweetie you're perfect, do as many crimes as you want.

Heart and Hand (Rebel Carter, 2019) - my romance novel of the month, as picked by my lovely patreonites! this self-published historical romance promised some messy f/m/m, following a biracial (half Black, half white) young lady, Julie Baptiste, as she responds to a marriage ad that takes her out west to the fictional town of Gold Sky, Montana. Julie's sort of a standard historical heroine - she doesn't care for the silliness of high society and vastly prefers the company of books, looking forward to becoming Gold Sky's schoolteacher - but her marriage has a twist: rather than marrying one man, she's agreed to marry two, a pair of friends who have been inseparable since they served together in the Civil War. this book is charming, for sure, but I can't help be more intrigued by what isn't there than what is, namely: are these men having sex with each other or not? Rebel? hey, Rebel? why is there no DP in this two husbands mail order bride book? that was, like, he bare minimum that I expected. for the love of god, why did those men never put both of their dicks inside Julie at the same time? why did we spend so much time on emotional conflict that could be easily resolved if anyone just talked to each other when Julie's two beautiful husbands could have been having sex in front of her? HELLO?

also, listen, this is such a nitpick, but I am FROM Montana and it feels personal: I know that the general poverty of frontier life isn't sexy, but god these people are WAY too well off. at one point Julie enjoys some fucking BANANAS, something that I goddamn assure you were not easy to come by in late 19th century Montana. a banana. as fucking if.

All Boys Aren't Blue (George M. Johnson, 2020) - as is proudly advertised on the back cover of my copy, in recent years All Boys Aren't Blue has been the second most-challenged book in America behind Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer. reading through All Boys Aren't Blue it was initially hard to see what exactly was so objectionable, until I realized that a queer Black person living their life with compassion and joy is the scariest thing some of these motherfuckers can possibly imagine. Johnson writes about their life growing up in the nexus of racism, homophobia, and masculinity with wisdom and endless compassion, directly addressing young people who may find themselves in similar positions to offer them assurance that they, too, can be okay. more than anything, All Boys Aren't Blue is a plea for young people to live their lives without fear and shame. it's a beautiful blessing of a book that I hope brings comfort to every innumerable kids who need it.

Little Rot (Akwaeke Emezi, 2024) - how do I even begin to describe Little Rot? definitely not for those who feel squeamish about sex crimes, I guess that's an important place to start. this novel starts with the breakup of a long-term Nigerian couple, Kalu and Aima, and follows both of them into a weekend that starts with drugs and sex parties and spirals increasingly out of control from there, drawing more and more characters into a complicated snarl of money and power. Little Rot has the seedy, lurid draw of an episode of SVU if SVU ever grew up and realized that cops don't do shit, reveling in the nastiest that Emezi's imagined city of New Lagos has to offer. cannot say this book is for everyone - few of Emezi's novels are - but god, it's a thrilling study in corruption.

The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader (editor Joan Nestle, 1992) - this is a massive and fascinating historical document, assembled by Nestle as part of her work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. within this collection are letters, interviews, academic essays, poems, and transcribed oral histories from all manner of self-identified butch and femme lesbians. while some of the contributors are recognizable names in the history of American queer activism (including Pat Califa, who's a bisexual trans man now lmao), others are women who were just trying to live their lives with as much authenticity, comfort, and dignity as was possible in their time. (although, notably, the vast majority of these women are white, and all but a very few are Americans. racial and cultural diversity is not one of the collection's strong suits.)

the personal narratives span all over the twentieth century, and I was really delighted to see the very frank discussions of what would be written off as "bad representation" by a lot of queer resources today: butches overdosing on toxic masculinity and getting in messy bar brawls, femmes committing outlandish acts of adultery, lesbian sexual awakenings taking place between fairly young children, and one extremely memorable instance of a butch getting unexpectedly pregnant and decided to do a little sex work on the side since she couldn't get more pregnant than she already was. I was particularly fascinated by the many, many accounts of "second wave" self-identified lesbian feminists who tried to do away with butch/femme identities and "politically incorrect" expression of lesbian sexuality altogether (that's everything but mutual cunnilingus, btw) in pretty eerie echoes of contemporary radfem arguments. at close to 500 pages it's definitely better suited to skimming and stopping to read whatever catches your attention rather than trying to read cover to cover, but I think this is a really invaluable piece of history.

American Mermaid (Julia Langbien, 2023) - this was a novel, for sure. American Mermaid is a novel about a broke, anxious high school teacher named Penelope whose novel, also called American Mermaid, is a runaway success that gets optioned for film. Penelope quits her teaching job and moves across the country to Hollywood to work on the script with two dude bros who don't really Get what American Mermaid is about, and set to work turning Penelope's weird, unsexy female empowerment novel into an MCU-style action romp with a hot young lead. the novel's strongest when it's deep in the spirals of Penelope's frantic mind, probing the conflict between her fairly desperate need for cash (she wants to be financially independent of her conservative father, she has good reason to suspect breast cancer is in her future, she wants to start a family someday) and the artistic affront she feels at watching her story be disrespected and dismantled. where it's weaker is in the extensive chapters of the story-within-a-story; while useful for context, I straight up didn't need to read that much of Penelope's novel. and the plot overall kind of felt like it fell off the rails near the end once Langbien finishes making her point about how Hollywood sucks. it's not bad, but it's also just... fine. it's fine!

How to Taste: A Guide Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life (Mandy Naglich, 2023) - how do I put this so nicely? this book is for people who are kind of dork ass losers about food, a group that I do very much count myself as a part of. I first became acquainted with Naglich's work when she appeared on a podcast called the Sporkful, which claims that it is "not for foodies, it's for eaters." I'm a fairly devout listener, and after listening to Naglich describe her efforts to become a master cicerone (one of the world's most elite beer tasters, a distinction that is taken Very Fucking Seriously) I thought sure, whatever, that's a book I can get behind. Naglich is maybe a big more entertaining as a podcast guest than a nonfiction author. in places the book can be dry or roughly constructed in a way that suggests another pass by an editor or maybe a co-writer would have helped. and straight up, there are just weird fucking typos in this book that are like. crazy to me, I cannot believe they got through. the cheap-ass cover art also suggests this was not exactly a high budget production.

but having been very mean about it, there are a lot of extremely interesting tidbits about the world of professional tasting here! it sounds awful and you couldn't pay me to do it, but here's the cool thing: Naglich is extremely aware that what she does is insane and she knows that the average reader doesn't want to learn how to identify where a coffee bean was grown just by sniffing the bean from across a room. what she offers instead are really approachable ways to be more conscientious about how you interact with and appreciate food! and she also shares some really cool info about tasting snobbery that IS bullshit, to help you sort out the stuff that actually matters and emphasize that fun and personal taste ultimately trump any "rules." it's a very dorky book but I, personally, did have a good time.

Sex Criminals Vol 3: Three the Hard Way (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2016) - every time I read another volume of Sex Criminals I find myself thinking "man, hang on, do I ever actually like Sex Criminals? am I enjoying this?" but then I end up placing a hold on the next one. I don't know, it's charming! it's like so very VERY 2010s in its dialogue, by which I mean it's like. you know. it's giving Joss Whedon before we all found out how bad he sucked and collectively booed him. but man, I love a story that's down to get weird, and Sex Criminals is sooooo about being weird. and yet also very normal where sex is concerned! considering this is a series all about people having freaky world-altering powers that activate when they cum, sex is treated as an incredibly ordinary thing, warts and all. I like that! I like seeing that! idk, I don't need every comic to be perfect, as evidenced by the fact that I'm actively enjoying Azrael: Angel of the Bat. sometimes the vibes are just good.

[rainbow-fandoms]

i feel like writing an essay on why jeffannie is a horrible ship

disclaimer before i rant: you are completely entitled to your opinion on whatever ships you prefer! this is just what i think :)

i'm going to begin with the most obvious problem with jeffannie: the age difference. at the start of the show, she's eighteen (a TEENAGER, guys) and he's in his thirties. they are at vastly different stages of life. he has way more life experience than her.

even if we ignore that, they just make no sense together. they already have that father/daughter dynamic, and the chemistry community reddit is constantly on about is nowhere to be found. all the kiss scenes felt forced (maybe not debate 109, but i'll talk about that later). also, jeff having two awesome women competing for his love, and then going after the teenager with a boyfriend...interesting.

i don't think jeff is necessarily predatory; he is very clearly not exclusively attracted to girls as young as annie, but that doesn't mean his attraction to her isn't at least slightly iffy.

i saw someone say annie and jeff, a recovering addict and someone who currently has an addiction, would not have a very healthy relationship in the long run, and i agree. as the original poster said, annie worked so hard to put her addiction behind her, and being with jeff wouldn't be good for her.

also, whoever made that tumblr post saying every jeffannie episode would work better with jeffbritta or abedison was 100% right, which is why i'm going to discuss the problems with each jeffannie episode.

jeffannie began in debate 109, when annie and jeff had to argue the point that man is inherently evil on the greendale debate team, and the debate ends in a scene where the leader of city college's team launches himself out of his wheelchair; jeff instinctively catches him, and the leader uses this to support the point that man is good. annie proceeds to grab jeff and kiss him, which makes him drop city college's leader, which wins them the debate, because 'he dropped him because he was horny!'

god.

obviously, you can see why that made me uncomfortable to watch, but i guess you could look past it in the comedy and chaos of it all. anyway, jeffbritta would have made that episode so much better. britta would definitely be on the debate team, and since she and jeff actually had a normal age gap, which would make everything far less creepy.

next, let's talk about the worst thing in the world:

pascal's triangle revisited.

actually, the episode was fine. i enjoyed it. but that kiss at the end makes me so angry. jeff, you have these two beautiful women who you have been pursuing this whole season, and you go and kiss the teenage girl. THE TEENAGE GIRL. jesus fucking christ. and she had a boyfriend too. you know what would have worked? abed convincing annie not to transfer instead. infinitely better chemistry, and an abedison kiss that actually impacted the plot would have changed my life.

the conspiracy episode was excellent, but jeffbritta would have made it perfect. i don't think it expanded on anything problematic jeffannie-wise though, so that's a win.

and then you have intro to political science. i haven't really seen anyone talk about this, and it's once again not a bad episode, but i really think the writers just didn't want britta to have a storyline that actually developed her character, because she would have devoured in annie's place during this episode. jeff's dynamic with her is already perfect, and it would make so much more sense for them to run against each other, as opposed to jeff and annie.

all those alternate timeline jeffannie scenes in remedial chaos theory already sucked, but i didn't care too much because i knew they weren't going to push it into anything too serious, but then you had annie tell jeff he reminded her of her father mid-makeout and it's just...wow. so the creators knew they had this very obvious father-daughter like relationship, were fully aware of it, and still forced the ship. cool.

now, don't kill me for this, but i'm one of those people who actually genuinely, really liked season 4. and one reason why i liked it was because the one major jeffannie scene they had was the imaginary alternate timeline one, which acknowledged that jeffannie would not be good together, and was hilarious. so thank you season 4, they can never make me hate you <3

introduction to teaching was also great because there was a plotline centered around jeff and annie that never tried to force any sort of awkward romantic chemistry (at least that's how i remember it), which seems impossible in community. honestly, this episode just proved that platonic jeffannie is superior to romantic jeffannie.

but that period of bliss where there was no romantic jeffannie didn't last long, because then you have g.i. jeff.

i love g.i. jeff. it's one of my favorite episodes, and was phenomenal for jeff's character. there was just one line, where animated coma dream jeff tells animated coma dream annie, 'look at the rack i gave you.' that was just kind of gross and didn't sit right, especially since a major plot point of this episode was jeff turning 40 and having a crisis. annie was *checks notes* 23-24 during this episode. the age gap is still very concerning here, and was made worse because of the fact that it really highlights how jeff is aging.

and then season 6 got so close to leaving jeffannie behind, forever, and then they had to ruin it with the series finale. i'm just saying, we couldn't have a platonic jeffannie goodbye like we got with jabed (speaking of which, the jabed goodbye arguably hurt more than the jeffannie one)?

anyway, i am desperately hoping we get jeffbritta/abedison (or trobed!) in the community movie, even though i know that's probably not going to happen, i do not like jeffannie at all, and thank you for reading my explosion of angry thoughts!

[aivarizhtml]

Head in the clouds with you, love

Since no one can stop me from treating tumblr as my self-exploration project, I want to share some thoughts on Jason/Piper ship. I’ve always felt the biggest fondness for canon pairings, which is hard to explain - maybe I just believe in author’s abilities to prove me right about relationships they’re talking about. For me, the journey of these two demigods, represented in no less than five books, was believable enough. It was a journey of trust and first love and exploration, willingness to show your best and worst sides to the other person. In fact, for me it felt the strongest after Percabeth, who had much more time and space for development. Hence when I found out about events of ToA, I felt disheartened to continue exploring Riordanverse. It probably coincided with me outgrowing these books, but I prefer leaving them at that ending of Blood of Olympus - bittersweet, unsurely hoping for the future together.

There’s a shared loneliness between all the members of the seven, and there are many conversations we didn’t get to see - midnight talks of Jason and Piper, being children of movie stars with vastly different childhoods, him telling her of the wolves and growing amongst army discipline, her sharing of LA memories and never having a loyal friend beside her before their meeting. Amusingly, books about lonely kids going on road trips in small groups are really lacking in those calm character bits.

Nevertheless, I feel like pjo and hoo series supported me a lot in my teenage years, being one of a few fandoms focused around teens going through immense struggles and falling in love in the meantime. That’s the one thing for me, long time a grown up, still hasn’t changed.

[liondrakes]

Involuntariness, Voluntariness, and the Stigmas In Between

by Sivaan of Candlekeep

The following writings were cross-posted from Dreamwidth. I’ve formatted my writings to better suit Tumblr. The original is still available on Dreamwidth; my journal is linked in my pinned.

This journal entry will have a looser structure than usual since it’s coming from a place of frustration. I’m not venting, though. These are criticisms on what I’ve noticed lately.

In terms of how my identities developed, I prefer the term quoiluntary. I have this preference for two reasons: 1. I experience all manners of origin, so the context varies from species to species and 2. I don’t give a fuck either way. I only emphasize on origin when I’m coming from a place of pride. Otherwise, I don’t care to differentiate myself from those whose experiences aren’t like mine.

Make no mistake, I can understand why someone would feel like they should emphasize on their involuntariness. I used to be the same way. Even now, I recognize the significance of the identities I have that I didn’t choose. I am innately this character, this beast, this concept, you name it. It’s laid dormant inside me for so long, and now I’m finally free. I absolutely see why that is something to be proud of.

At the same time, that’s not the only reason why folks talk about involuntariness in comparison to other experiences. Sadly, whether folks are conscious of it or not, it feels like involuntariness and voluntariness are still played against each other in this community.

No amount of validity posts has changed the fact that folks still engage with their peers, or at least what they hear about said peers, as if they’re KFF-adjacent or “wrong” about how they feel. It’s like folks don’t bother in understanding other experiences unless it’s within their threshold of comfort, let alone respect them as equals.

What’s the point in acting as if involuntariness is the only experience that’s inherently profound?

What’s the point in saying “Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with voluntary identity!” and proceeding to go “Well, actually…!” when met with anything that isn’t otherlinking?

Speaking as someone who does link identities, I hate the assumption that chosen/voluntary identity is inherently “less serious” and not as important as other experiences. Nine times outta ten, folks are going off of what they see from young members. Still, they are children. If you expect them to not be the least bit light-hearted, then I’m not sure what else you expected. Some of them may be misinformed. Some of them may be simply expressing themselves. Either way, using one demographic to mold your perception of an entire group doesn’t show much solidarity towards us at all. You can’t blame kids for everything. I said so on my blog: there’s such a thing as being narrow-minded about experiences that you don’t personally have (for those who apply).

What folks may not know is that there’s a lot of empowerment in actively choosing to be something, let alone something outside of the “norm” of a vastly anthropocentric world. It may seem like frivolously picking up something and not caring for it in the grand scheme of things, but that’s also a very limited understanding of other people’s experiences within our community. I too advocate for more personal introspection, but truthfully, it’s nobody’s business whether or not our peers engage with their own identity like a Greek philosopher, seated upon the steps of the Agora in deep thought. Some people are what they are, choice or no choice.

Furthermore, I hate how the act of otherlinking is treated as the “valid” way to choose an identity. It’s not said out loud, but the takes surrounding chosen identity certainly make it feel that way.

I understand that there’s plenty of new members who don’t know most communal lingo. Some of them aren’t going to know that there’s terminology relating to voluntary identities and may hook onto what they do know. It’s one thing to educate them on these terms. That’s great! Introduce them to sides of our community that they aren’t familiar with! You never know when it may help someone in their journey along the way.

It’s something else entirely to a.) assume someone is misinformed and doesn’t know their own identity, b.) assume someone is spreading misinformation for simply labeling their identity as chosen, and/or c.) make unnecessary comments about how they’re not “really” or “technically” the label they identify as but you accept it anyway. Unless someone plainly states they’re an otherlinker, folks respond with skepticism and doubt. It doesn’t even need to be a named person or their account. Just the idea of it ruffles feathers.

I’m going to make something very clear: I don’t speak for all otherlinkers as I air out my thoughts. This is solely my standing on the issue.

With that out of the way, I must say I’m very disappointed that some folks still hold these sorts of mindsets towards chosen identities. I am not any more “serious” or “valid” of a nonhuman for linking than an individual who chose to be someone or something without having to build upon it. Someone doesn’t overcomplicate or muddy down the meaning of anything by simply choosing their identity. The implication of such is disrespectful in my opinion.

Who is to say that their choice(s) didn’t have any significance of their own?

Someone could come across a character or species that reminds them of themself so much, they simply decide that they are that character or species. They don’t need to build upon anything. What if they just know and make that choice based on knowing?

Someone could love something so much to the point of wanting to be the very thing they admire. Some folks may not need to build upon that identity if they already love it so much that this love shaped who they are.

What folks forget is that otherlinking isn’t just a label. It is an act. You actively link something. You build upon that relationship to the point of identification. I’ve had this happen for a former link, which is now my Dwemer constel. I still take pride in the factor of choice because I don’t often choose what I get to be. The act of doing so is quite freeing. It’s a similar kind of freedom I feel when I unearth an intrinsic identity. They are processed differently, yes, but both are equally a part of me. No involuntary or quoiluntary constel outweighs a voluntary constel in terms of significance.

Moreover, the act of otherlinking takes consistency. I can’t leave it at just saying “I chose to be (x)” like how most folks assume. When an identity is still in the process of becoming my own, it stays in the link phase. Personally, things I experience with vague or involuntary identities are usually a sign of my link making progress. For example, managing to phantom shift into one of my links is a sign of huge progress for me. This morning, this happened with my Verza link. I’m still a Verza right now, and it makes me excited that I’ve gotten closer to being this species. Some past links, like my Splatoon-based link and my Wickerbeast link, eroded away. This happens all the time with links. Some stay and become a part of me. Some are shed and that’s that.

When someone calls themself a chosen therian or chosen nonhuman, they likely didn’t need to do what I do. They chose something. They became that thing. That’s it. That is not the same as the conscious act of otherlinking.

I’m all for educating new members, especially young ones, on our community’s terms, but I’m also thoroughly annoyed with how these would-be “educators” conflate experiences. I wish people would look beyond their noses and understand that just because both experiences involve voluntariness, that doesn’t mean they are interchangeable. It looks less like trying to help someone find a label that may suit them, and more like trying to nudge them into that spot out of your own comfort.

They don’t fit the standard of this label that’s had a word-of-mouth definition for so long, so it’s perfectly fine to cast doubt if they’re “really” that identity or not. Right? (This is sarcasm).

The defensiveness is justified when it’s actually applicable. Therian is one such example. The therian label is heavily guarded due to actual misinformation spreading around it, plus its overall spread throughout social media. It’s understandable why folks want to preserve the label, its meaning and its history so badly. It’s needed when folks claim that therianthropy isn’t identifying as an animal. To call oneself a therian when you aren’t an animal defeats the whole point of using the label. Defensiveness is justified in this context.

However, it’s not needed in context to involuntariness and voluntariness. In my opinion, it’s similar to how the “earthen” part of the definition was never needed. It was wedged in there for fuck all reason.

When it comes down to it, a therian is an individual who identifies as a nonhuman animal. If anyone can explain to me in great detail what makes someone who chose to be a fox different from someone who’s involuntarily a fox, that’d be wonderful. Bonus points if you do so without dumbing down the experiences of the former. Besides their personal backgrounds, I guarantee you that little difference will be found between the two.

They’re both therians. Neither is any more or any less of an animal than the other.

Folks of involuntary experiences also post in silly, lighthearted ways just as some of their voluntary peers do. Those of voluntary experiences also discuss their introspections and what it’s like to choose ourselves. If you’ve made it this far, congratulations. You’re reading from someone who’s been doing that for almost a year now.

What I don’t understand is this is: when you become a part of a community, you’re always going to find folks whose perspectives are different than yours. Folks pour a lot of attention into finding like-minded individuals. That in of itself is to be expected and isn’t an issue. The issue arises when, in the midst of said search or in communal discussions, experiences that deviate from communal “norms” are put into question for no sensible reason. Folks suddenly forget that yes, these experiences are possible and yes, there are members amongst us who identify that way. Worst of all, folks still entertain the question of “valid or not valid?” as if their input on someone else’s identity isn’t invasive.

Pray tell, what do these discussions achieve?

What do we as a community benefit from these speculations if folks continue to downplay these experiences?

From where I stand, it looks like folks still want their peers to perform their identities for them. Is the issue that pressing that you need assurance of their experiences being 100% real, 100% serious, and 100% “valid” enough for you to consider them a part of this community? Is this what we’re hung up on?

On one hand, I get that otherlinker and its associated labels (funlinker, copinglinker, etc.) came about as an answer to those who claimed they chose their kintypes or theriotypes when these discourses were still hot.

On the other hand, it is 2025. The stigmas behind chosen identity have got to go. I’m not saying the concern around trolls and other anti-kin/therian groups isn’t understandable, but that same concern has also led to no nuance being added to these conversations.

Nobody is actually asking for the opinions and perspectives of those who choose their identities.

Nobody is actually looking into how we experience things.

All we get is more and more strangers speaking on us like we aren’t a part of communal discussions and can’t see what they have to say about us.

My answer so far is just being more vocal about my quoiluntariness. I’m not only discussing the identities that are involuntary, but the ones that are chosen and the ones that I honestly couldn’t care less where they came from. “Be the change you want to see,” and all that, y’know?

These frameworks are a spectrum. There’s always going to be folks who lean exclusively on one side or the other, but there’s also those of us who slide all across the spectrum. There’s also those of us who don’t care either way, and that’s arguably even better. The importance of these frameworks isn’t universal. Even when folks recognize why that may be the case for their peers, their positions show otherwise.

I’m so tired of the belief that involuntariness as an experience is so much more unique and significant, therefore someone couldn’t possibly experience that kind of significance with a chosen identity. It sounds pretentious and inconsiderate even when folks aren’t trying to be that way. All things considered, this community is in desperate need of more nuanced perspectives.

That’s all I have to say for now. Thanks for reading as always.

[kathegoose]

i went on a rant about dragons today to the point of physically shaking and trembling (i still am) (my autism is great) and i don't know how much this topic has been discussed on tumblr dot com BUT!! anyhoo...

DRAGONS DO NOT NEED FOUR LEGS AND TWO WINGS TO BE DRAGONS.

IT IS HERALDRY'S FAULT!!!!!! (/hj)

explanation under cut

2-legged 2-winged dragons are my favourites and EEEVERYONE says "wyvern! wyvern!!".. I love wyverns too but what if my tetrapod dragon is A Dragon.

Limb count does not define a dragon..... if that was true, the dragon slain by St. George wouldn't even be a dragon:

(i am aware that there are the 4-leggy depictions, old and new too. but i hope these oldies sell my point,,)

That is a dragon because it was called a dragon!!! It's not a real critter to misidentify either, so it must be what it is said to be.

If we get to have VASTLY different snake basilisks and lizard basilisks and cockatrice basilisks, then why label a dragon based on its limbs? Where is the fun in that?

You can search up "medieval depictions of dragons", and alongside your 'traditional' dragon limb counts, you get the "wyvern" limb counts as well!! And EVEN 4 WINGED DRAGONS!!!!! and oh. Let's not forget these beasts.

Let's (hopefully well) translate the latin on these ones!!

---

"A bipedal dragon caught in the Field of Bononienfi." (2 legs)

"A winged dragon [?] from Greuino Aldro." ? (2 wings)

"A figure from Pareo." (2 legs, 2 wings)

"Ethiopian dragon." (2 legs, 2 wings)

---

I see... three direct dragon mentions, and one referred to as a figure. None of these have four legs and two wings,,, yet are still, clearly, labeled as dragons! Besides, some of those wings there barely even resemble wings. It could be the lack of anatomical knowledge in art as usual back then, but they sure do look like frills if you ask me. frilly wings :]

If I recall correctly, the only old rule for a dragon has always been "big scary serpent that might breathe fire"... (nothing about limbs, but they do add to it, yes!)

⠀

SO MAYBE. maybe we don't need to start label wars on if [a specific dragon] is a wyvern or not. Maybe we should let the creator decide. If they say their dragon is a dragon, then it must be a dragon?

If they themselves say their creature is a wyvern, a lindwurm, a drake or a serpent, then maybe it is? Maybe everyone gets to make a fictional creature that fits their interests, instead of being policed around by someone else who wants strictly distinguishable draconic types?

It's valid to have preferences, but like. don't say "errm that is a wyvern..!" the next time you see a dragon with two legs less than you might like. Art is subjective and dragons live through art. They are mythical creatures with very very VERY diverse designs and depictions, and nobody should ever take that away i think. :D

[bunaapom]

@ BUNAAPOM ∎ CONDUCTOR POM - POM, a major NON - PLAYABLE CHARACTER of HONKAI: STAR RAIL, closed & affiliated with GNOSTIC HYMNS. written & cherished by ELIX or BARELY [ EIGHTEEN + ANY PRNS + EST ] ! notes on portrayal, rules, & official story continuity under the cut, with important links here: [ RECORDS ROOM + CONDUCTOR'S PAGE + TALENTS ]

notes.

i. MORE ABOUT ELIX & BARELY: an english lit college student that was once, and still is, sporadically online. can be contacted through TUMBLR IMS or DISCORD DMS, with a small preference for the latter, though i am both in the server as 'elix' and open for private messages.

∎ A MAJOR NOTE, briefly, but i do not, and likely will never, touch another hoyoverse game for a few reasons [ mainly, the lack of storage space & burn - out from said games ], so to stay updated, i tend to cling to recorded playthroughs, watch my sibling stream, or turn to written records. basically, varying forms of osmosis. and because of this, i want to apologize in advance for any lapses in memory or information. so far, i am caught up on HONKAI: STAR RAIL, and am still catching up on smaller storylines in GENSHIN IMPACT and HONKAI IMPACT 3RD.

ii. MORE ABOUT POM - POM: the small but mighty conductor, and ▇▇▇, of the astral express, serving as a major npc for the events of honkai: star rail. while their origins and background are unknown, they've proven to be a necessity on the express, unmistakably cherished by both it and the crew of nameless that board it. usually, can be found fussing over small tasks in the parlor car, or dancing in front of the phonograph.

∎ A MAJOR NOTE, despite the wealth of portals mysteriously appearing in and outside of the astral express, POM - POM IS STILL BOUND TO THE CONFINES OF THE TRAIN. this has not, and likely will not, change until something or someone crazy happens in the main storyline of the game. so, unfortunately, this vastly limits the interactions pom - pom is able to have on the dashboard. [ which caters this his overwhelming loneliness, so i'm game! ] ALL THREADS AND ASKS HAVE TO BE SET IN THE ASTRAL EXPRESS, or near it, for it to be considered canon. which also means that pom - pom cannot participate in any events hosted by GNOSTICHYMNS unless certain lengths are taken on my side for inclusion. [ EX. parking the astral express, doors open, right outside of whatever festival is being held so pom - pom can be handed street food :thumbsup: ]

iii. POST FORMATTING: small, double - spaced text. colored, bolded dialogue. little to no icon usage due to laziness. will always match a partner in length but not formatting, unless it is their preference that i change the font size and reduce the spacing for accessibility. never be afraid to ask this of me! i'll do my best to remember and check pages beforehand though, just in case.

iv. INBOX & INTERACTIONS: always open, no matter the content! if you’d like to turn an ask into a thread, please do, and do not worry for approval. i welcome all and any interactions, especially impulsive and random ones. the astral express will always open its doors for a hello!

v. CONTENT & TRIGGER WARNINGS: no serious content warnings, only vague inclinations to GRIEF, DEATH, and an all-encompassing, unrecognized LONELINESS. i can do my best to lessen the extent of any aforementioned themes upon being asked. however, on behalf of my triggers, i ask for IMAGES of SPIDERS, HEAVY GORE, and EYE TRAUMA to be tagged, please and thank you.

[meikuree]

re: that reblog about women in transformative works, my biggest pet peeve is still not that people deal with their ambivalences by consuming only works of a certain stripe (even though the whole discourse around that is really annoying). that is objectively fine, in terms of reasoning it's still whatever but I can kind of see where they're coming from. rather it's the insinuation that people can't or don't want to read stories about women because women are too gendered, too political, etc. like, uh, hello? for a group of people purportedly raised on gender performativity and judith butler I thought tumblr users would know better than to assert that men in fiction aren't themselves also political. I thought the point was that men are just as deeply political as women, they simply get the benefit of being emplaced as the default and thus apolitical, although this is an utterly false consensus. to insist that women are by dint of their ~gender~ shackled by the baggage of expectations and uncomfortable conventions is frankly gross and insufferable gender essentialism.

plus, these people never seem to entertain the possibility that fictional preferences can trend the other way. take it from me: I'm disinterested in the anglophone m/m action movie ship industrial complex and am vastly more interested in women and men of colour or men who aren't the default in their societies.

[starleska]

Ngl I must confess…I’ve always mixed up the Outlast and Resident Evil franchises. Idk why. Maybe something in the color palettes? Impossible to tell. I got real good at telling the difference between the games recently tho. However, at the exact same time you started posting Ramon Salazar, another person I follow started posting Franco Barbi. Once again, I do not know why, but I GUESS their silhouettes were too similar. I was back at square one and mixing them up for awhile.

I recently started to tell them apart effortless again! Which is nice. All is well in the world. And now YOURE POSTING FRANCO BARBI—

Regardless, good for you, good for him. At least I can still tell them apart now. I love both of them. <3 I hope y’all are doing well, invite me to both weddings. I imagine they’ll be wildly different aesthetics. 👀 I’m here for it😂

(also, once again, I hope you’re doing well and having a good time! I’ve been rather stressed lately but your blog and new blorbos make me feel better, it’s all so fun <3 that being said, still take breaks if you need them, I’ll be just fine, everyone will be fine 💖 old posts are just as fun as new ones. XD Tumblr user Starleska and the menagerie of F/Os would never hurt me…unlike…planning what to pack to housesit next-door…dungeons and dragons and other ttrpgs with my far nerdier family…being unable to really pound the pavement looking for jobs until I know the autism evaluation process is over…multiple friends drawing and writing my male blorbos pregnant/about to be pregnant (as gifts and/or psychological warfare) bc they love domesticity but don’t believe in me-pregnant or “fpreg” no matter what I say about the matter… c’est le vie, vastly first world problems. I wish you the absolute best!!! Take care!💖)

dfghfd WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THESE ARE TWO VERY DIFFERENT GUYS!!!!!!

i would be offended if i didn't think you were inching towards falling for one or both at some point...and if you weren't coming into my inbox talking about getting your faves pregnant 😂💖 (speaking of, your pals have excellent taste - you should tell me who your Franco simp friend is, and see if they'd be interested in Ramón 👀)

i do get it, i do...they're both short, murderous mutant men with violent tempers and small yet dedicated fanbases who find them impossibly sexy 🙈💖 but Ramón Salazar is like...his first iteration is all formal and cunning, yet with a tendency to explode and go into childish fits of rage, whilst his second iteration is all airs and graces with a colder, more measured exterior. whereas Franco Barbi...i mean, i think we could write whole books on everything wrong with him 😂😂 if you value your life don't listen to Franco's audio lines i think i blushed so hard it hurt and all the colour drained out of my face at the same time- congratulations on now being able to tell them apart!!! that means you miiiight just survive long enough for them to grow attached to you. what would you prefer? Ramón softly caressing your face and calling you 'my dear', being enticed into becoming the Castellan's princess? or Franco chasing you down, cornering you and murmuring absolute filth into your ear? two very different flavours, but both equally enticing 😉 (or, y'know, maybe you have some self-respect and i'm just shooting blanks 💀) awww honey it is so good to hear from you - but i'm sorry you've been so stressed!!! 🫂🫂 that is far too much stuff to be dealing with all at once. how's the progress re: the autism assessment now? don't worry, it won't last forever - and all of these other problems will seem smaller once your time is freer! sounds like you've got lovely things in the pipeline as well, so please do remember to chill out and rest and come and scream about your faves on here for relaxation purposes. doctor's orders 🥰

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!) ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the fires of unholy week rage still, but perhaps today the sinful and the sweet can mix — consider it a calm before the storm ∼

∼ day four brings us our beloved cop with a heart of gold ♥ Miranda Hilmarson ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #fluff and smut #cunnilingus #vaginal fingering #strap-ons #lesbian sex #bisexual character #gangbang #lesbian gangbang #porn #sex work #triple penetration #double penetration #face-fucking #face-sitting #butt slapping #face slapping #acted-out rape #pretend rape #degradation #verbal humiliation #handcuffs #prison sex #friends to lovers #rape fantasy #multiple orgasms #kink!week

...but we could be (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Miranda is crunching on her cereal.

Very loudly. Robin waits for her to finish eating so she can concentrate. She counts to ten in her mind to calm down. Then she counts to twenty and then to fifty, and Miranda is still fucking eating. It sounds like she’s chewing on her own teeth.

Finally, she snaps. “Hilmarson, will you cut it out?”

“Whaf?” she asks, mouth full, eyes wide. She looks like a kicked puppy.

“The chewing. It’s fucking annoying.”

If Miranda was a puppy, her ears would droop. She looks down at the desk and swallows a mouthful of cereal. “Oh. Sorry.”

Robin returns to typing on her computer. Finally, some fucking peace and quiet—

“I shouldn’t overeat, anyway. I was just so hungry. I’m going to brunch later, you know.”

“Hm,” Robin grumbles, not wanting to incite further conversation — and it works. Miranda is no longer crunching on her goddamn cereal, she’s no longer talking, and Robin can finally work in peace. 

The fucking brunch is bothering her though.

“Since when do you eat brunch?” she can’t help but ask. She never imagined Miranda to be the sort of person who eats brunch.

“Oh, I don’t usually — I only eat brunch with my pornstar friends!”

Robin almost chokes on her own spit. “Your what?”

“My pornstar friends,” she says, beaming.

“Right.” Robin hates that she wants to know more about this. “And those are… friends from school that went on to become pornstars?”

“Oh, no. We know each other from the shoot. I starred in a video, you know.” She sounds proud as she says it.

Robin blinks. “You starred… in a porno?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah! It was like an all-girl gangbang scene in a women’s prison. And all the girls were super nice so we stayed in touch. We get brunch every couple of weeks.”

Robin stopped listening on the gangbang part. She shakes her head. “Hilmarson, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

“I’ve been asked, you know. I was on my way to the gym and this really nice lady approached me and told me they need someone tall for a shoot they’re doing, and asked me if I’d be comfortable filming a sex scene. And I said, depends, you know. I wouldn’t do any piss stuff, that’d be nasty. Then she told me it’s an all girl gangbang scene and I couldn’t believe it! That’s been my fantasy since I was a teen!”

“Your fantasy?” Robin repeats. All of this sounds like a fever dream, and something that could definitely only happen to Miranda.

“Yeah! People have asked me to do sex work before, you know. Because of, well,” she gestures to herself, waving her arms up and down, “this. I’ve been asked to be an escort, but that just seemed, oh, I don’t know. Rather bleak.”

Robin can’t imagine a bleaker job than being a police officer, but she says nothing.

“I usually say no when people ask, though — but I couldn’t say no to this. It was a once in a lifetime chance!”

Robin blinks really, really slowly, trying to process what she just heard. 

Miranda’s face suddenly lights up. “Oh! Oh! I can show you!” 

Robin shakes her head. “What?” she asks, but Miranda is already scooting over to Robin’s desk on her chair. Before Robin knows it, Miranda is sitting next to her and grabbing her keyboard.

“It’s available online. It’s on a payed website, but I have access to it. Just a sec,” she says as she types in the address.

Robin grabs the keyboard from her, and Miranda gives her a wide-eyed look. “Are you fucking mental? You can’t search for porn at a police station! And we certainly can’t watch that here!”

“Oh. Right,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. She seems to genuinely not have thought of that. “Well, we could watch it at my place.”

Robin can’t believe her ears. “Sorry, what?”

“We could watch it at my place,” Miranda repeats. “We can get popcorn and beer, and I can show you.”

Robin scoffs in bewilderment. “I won’t watch your porn, Hilmarson. That’d be weird.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, I’m fine with it. It’s really hot, you know. And it wouldn’t be weird. We wouldn’t like, watch the whole thing. We could just watch the beginning, before the action starts. It’s really cool. All the girls are amazing actresses, it’s really realistic. Well, until the part with the sex toys. There’s no way they could get away with having those in prison.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s no way she’s watching porn with Miranda — especially not Miranda-porn. 

“Oh. Okay,” she says, disappointed, and rolls her chair back to her desk.

They continue to work in silence, but Robin can’t focus. Something’s bothering her.

“I didn’t know you were into girls,” she finally says.

She glances at Miranda, who opens up her drawer and pulls out a bag of chips. Her cereal sits forgotten next to her. 

“It didn’t come up.” Miranda opens the bag and shoves a fistful of chips into her mouth. Robin recoils at the horrifying crunching noise and turns her gaze back to the computer screen.

Miranda crunches on her chips for a couple of seconds before asking a question, Robin doesn’t want to answer — but she supposes it’s fair of Miranda to ask, since Robin was the one who broached the subject.  “Are you into girls, Griffin?”

“Not usually,” she says. She doesn’t really wanna talk about it.

“But sometimes?” Miranda asks, still crunching away.

“I guess.”

She lifts her gaze and finds Miranda looking at her with curiosity, munching on her chips. “I thought you had a bit of a vibe,” Miranda says.

“I don’t have a vibe.”

Miranda shrugs. “Okay. I’m not very good at telling, anyway. Girls like me, you know. I think it’s the height. I rarely have to approach first.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Miranda says. “Want chips?”

“No.”

Robin hears Miranda shove the bag back into the drawer. They both continue to work in silence. Robin’s finding it hard to concentrate on work, but she refuses to stop. Her thoughts wander.

It never occurred to her that Miranda might be into women. She doesn’t know why the thought plagues her. It’s nothing special — many women are into other women. Robin has had… experiences. Not her thing, really. Except that one time — but that was its own sort of disaster.

She always thought Miranda had horrible taste in men. Her brother is a prime example, as well as their boss — just garbage man after garbage man. Women are at least prettier, if nothing else — even when their personalities are garbage. Maybe Miranda would do better finding a nice woman for herself. She hopes her taste in women is better than in men, but her hopes aren’t high — Miranda is sort of a walking disaster with no self-preservation instincts. Who accepts to star in a porno after being approached on the street?

About ten minutes pass in silence. Robin doesn’t work — instead she thinks about Miranda’s love life — and then the very subject of her thoughts interrupts her ruminating by speaking again.

“Hey, wanna have brunch with us? I’d really love for you to meet the girls. You’ll love them, I swear. They’re really nice.”

Unlike Miranda, Robin didn’t have breakfast, nor chips, and she can hear her stomach growling. She should probably eat something.

Ah, what the hell.

“Sure,” she says. 

Miranda squeaks — she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Robin really hopes she won’t regret this.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Miranda! Miranda!” a group of five pretty young women squeals from across the restaurant. 

“Ohmygod, hiiii!” Miranda squeals back and scurries towards the girls. She pulls each of them into a bone crushing hug. They all reach up to her shoulders — they are absolutely tiny compared to her. Robin can’t imagine what that fucking video must have looked like.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, Mirandy!” one of them says, squished against Miranda’s chest. 

“I’ve missed you too!”

They all hug and scream and Robin just stands there, feeling like she’s witnessing a sorority girls reunion in an American rom-com. She’s already regretting this. “Everybody, meet Robin,” Miranda says after they’re done screaming, her face beaming in delight. Robin hates to admit that she looks kind of cute, all happy and glowing like this. “She’s gonna join us for brunch today.”

The nearest of the girls goes to pull her in a hug. “Hi, Robin! I’m Tracy.”

Robin scoots away. “Not a hugger. Sorry,” she says.

“Oh,” the girl says, clearly disappointed. 

“Oh, sorry, should’ve told you we are all huggers,” Miranda says to Robin, then turns to the girls. “She always acts all mean, but really she’s a delight. She’s the best partner one could wish for.”

“Work partner,” Robin adds, wanting to make it clear right off the bat that she and Miranda are not involved. They’re not even friends. “We’re work colleagues.”

The rest of the girls introduce themselves a bit more coldly, shaking her hand, and she immediately forgets their names. They’re all eyeing her up and down, studying her — it’s all rather awkward. 

“We should sit down,” Miranda says, smiling, oblivious to the awkwardness, and they all sit down at the big table the girls have already occupied beforehand. Robin spends the brunch eating her food and minding her business. The girls try to include her in the conversation a couple of times, but once they realise she keeps giving one word replies to everything and doesn't speak unless directly spoken to, they slowly give up.

It doesn’t take a particularly observant person to see that the girls absolutely adore Miranda. They’re very touchy-feely with her, they all look at her with wide adoring eyes, and they seem to find her jokes genuinely funny. Robin can see why Miranda likes to hang out with them. Nobody at the police station treats her like that, that’s for sure. 

The entire thing has a bit of a “schoolgirls at a sleepover” vibe, but gayer. All of the girls are very clearly into Miranda — they touch her uniform, ruffle her hair, give her an occasional peck on the cheek — and Miranda just sits there, looking absolutely delighted by everything that’s going on, radiating major golden retriever vibes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that these girls would clearly gladly fuck her again (that much is obvious even to Robin). There’s also lots of giggling and talking about clothes (she didn’t know Miranda was into clothes — but then again she did seem to be delighted by Prada shoes that one time). Robin’s just waiting for them to start braiding each other’s hair. The whole thing makes her uncomfortable, especially the physical affection — and on top of that, she’s never been the girly type. In fact, girls like that bullied her in school. She always thought Miranda was similar in that regard, but it looks like she was wrong. 

She seems to be learning a lot of things about Miranda today.

She can’t wait for the whole thing to be over. The food was good, but not good enough to justify the torturous socialising she, for some unknown reason, willingly subjected herself to. She’s relieved when they all start getting up from the table. 

She tries to move to the side and wait for Miranda to say her goodbyes, hoping no one will talk to her again — and she almost succeeds in her plan.

One of the girls — the one with jet black hair down to her butt and an eyebrow slit (she believes her name is Sydney or maybe Sally) — approaches her. 

“Can I help you?” Robin asks rudely. 

“Yes, actually, you can,” the girl says. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your thing is with Mir and it’s none of my business — I know she likes a tough bitch — but if you break her heart I will fucking cut you, get it?”

Robin scoffs. “What?” 

“You heard me. That girl is a fucking delight. If you dim her light, we will all cut you.

“You might want to think before you threaten me. I’m a police officer,” Robin says, so pissed she doesn’t even try to explain she and Miranda are definitely not an item.

Sally — or Sydney — simply raises an eyebrow and eyes her up and down. “We’ve got contacts in the police, bitch. Watch out.”

And with that, she turns. “Mir-mir!” she yells and hurries towards Miranda. “I didn’t get my hug!”

Robin just watches Miranda hug whatever-her-name-is, shocked, mouth agape. She says nothing further as she and Miranda leave the restaurant. She doesn’t bother to wave at the girls, or even spare them a second glance.

“So? What do you think? Aren’t they amazing?” Miranda asks the second they step onto the street. Her voice is high-pitched with excitement. “With them I feel like I’m finally part of the girl’s club. It’s so nice.”

She doesn’t even look at Miranda, just keeps on walking. Miranda just follows her like a puppy. 

“I didn’t know you were a girly girl.”

“Oh, I never used to be. Girls like them used to bully me in school. And look at me now,” she says proudly. “I really came a long way.”

“It’s because they want to fuck you,” Robin says before she can stop herself.

“Oh, that’s not the only reason. They were really nice to me at the shoot, and they really didn’t have to be. I was very nervous, and they did their best to make me comfortable.”

Robin scoffs. “One of them threatened to, I quote, ‘cut me’ if I break your heart. The one with black hair.”

“Oh, Samantha?”

(Okay — so neither Sydney nor Sally.)

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Miranda says carefully. “It’s just something you say.”

“Yeah, when people are an item. But you and I are not an item.” 

“Oh, they know that.”

Robin stops walking and looks Miranda in the eyes. “Do they?”

Miranda just laughs. “Yeah! You told them, and then I told them again.” 

She pauses for a second. 

“Besides, I know you wouldn’t spare me a second glance,” she adds and gives Robin a little smile — the smile of a person who’s used to not getting picked first and is completely okay with it. For some reason, it breaks Robin’s heart.

She frowns. “It’s not that I wouldn’t.”

Miranda’s eyes light up. “You would? Okay, so like, if you didn’t know me, and we met randomly at a bar, would you buy me a drink?”

Robin sighs and starts walking again. “I don’t know, Hilmarson. Maybe. I’d have to be drunk.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, I’d be drunk too!” she says and happily scurries after her. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I’d totally let you buy me a drink.”

Robin says nothing further. They walk in silence for a while until they reach the police station.

When Miranda goes to enter the building, Robin stops her. “Wait,” she says. 

Miranda turns and looks at her with those big, blue, puppy eyes. “Yes?”

Robin doesn’t know what possessed her. 

“If I agree to see the video, do you promise to tell those girls once and for all that we are not together?”

“Oh, you don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to. And they know we’re not together.”

“Tell them again.”

“Okay, sure,” she says.

They stand like that for a long moment, neither of them moving. “Uh… do you want to… see the video?” Miranda finally asks, confused.

Robin purses her lips. “It will plague me if I don’t. But we stop at the actual porn part.”

Miranda’s entire face lights up. “Of course,” she chirps. “Oh, I’ll get snacks and everything, it’s gonna be so much fun, I promise! Come to mine around eight?”

“Sure.”

She ignores Miranda the rest of the day, but Miranda is in such a good mood that she doesn't seem to mind — or notice — at all.

Robin doesn’t know why she did it. She supposes it’s her morbid curiosity — or perhaps it’s that sometimes she gets awfully lonely in her flat at night, and she would appreciate some company. Miranda is obnoxious, but she’s the only person that Robin didn’t manage to chase away with her foul attitude — not for the lack of trying. 

Miranda is not someone Robin would normally pick as a friend, but she has to admit that Miranda is a very good friend. Robin knows she could count on her if needed — and now that she thinks about it, if her place was burning down, Miranda would be the first person she’d call — because she knows Miranda would answer. 

Miranda has shit taste in men, but maybe Robin has shit taste in friends. And maybe she needs someone like Miranda to keep her at least somewhat fit for society. Without her, she’d become a true hermit. 

…

Still — is it weird to watch porn with a work colleague? 

She decides not to dwell on it — she already agreed to the thing, anyway. And it’s Miranda — there’s no way it could lead to anything sexual. Worst case scenario, it’ll be awkward, and then they’ll never mention it again.

With that thought, she closes the subject in her mind and continues to work undisturbed until the end of her shift.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When Miranda opens the door that evening, she’s grinning from ear to ear. Robin can’t get an image of an excited puppy out of her head. 

“Hiii!” she says, moving aside so Robin can enter. Robin’s eyes wander to her flimsy, almost see-through T-shirt. 

“Couldn’t you have found a proper shirt to put on?” she grumbles, moving past her and walking towards the living room. She knows where everything is — after all, all the apartments in this building are more or less the same. 

Miranda glances down towards her own chest. “Oh, I just forgot. These are my PJs.” She scurries after Robin, following her to the couch. “Why, Griffin? You into me?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear. “You wanna daaaate me and make loooooove to me?”

Robin sits down and on the couch, crossing her arms and legs. Miranda plops down on the couch next to her, making kissing noises into the air. The couch bounces with the force of Miranda’s weight being thrown on it. 

“If you continue to be weird about this, I will leave.”

She won’t leave. Robin hates to admit it, but she’s feeling a bit weepy tonight. She would really appreciate some human contact — but she will be grumpy about it

“If it really bothers you, I can change,” Miranda says. 

“Forget it,” Robin grumbles. 

“Okay. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She could use a beer. Or seven. She can’t believe she’s about to watch Miranda’s fucking porno — even if it is only the intro.

Miranda disappears into the kitchen and quickly comes back with two opened beers and a bucket of popcorn. She puts the popcorn on the little coffee table in front of the couch and hands one beer to Robin. “Here you go. Do you want a glass?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She takes a big swig.

“Someone’s thirsty,” Miranda says as she sits down, taking a sip as well. She makes herself comfortable, lifting her long legs (that, Robin notices, look even longer and leaner in the black tights she’s wearing) onto the couch and crossing them. The way she moves, all tall and lanky, reminds Robin of a baby deer. 

“It’s just been a day,” Robin says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “Has it? You typed on your laptop and had brunch.”

Robin shrugs, staring at the bowl of popcorn on the table, not looking at Miranda or her flimsy fucking shirt. “Well, it’s been a day in my brain, I guess.”

“Oh. I get it. I have those too, sometimes. You PMS-ing?”

Robin takes another swig of her beer. “None of your business.”

“So grumpy,” Miranda tuts. “So, you wanna get right to it? I have it all set up on the TV.”

“Sure.”

Robin drinks her beer, feeling a bit fragile. Maybe she is about to get her period. She shouldn’t for another two weeks, but maybe it’s early. Being with someone really helps, though — and so does the beer.

Miranda grabs the remote from the coffee table and fumbles with it a little bit. “Okay, so it’s connected to the tablet… alright, here we go.”

A big title appears on the screen. 

Girlbang series production — Fun In Prison

  Robin already regrets this. “I still can’t believe you agreed to that. You’re a police officer. Did they at least blur your face?”

Miranda presses pause. “Oh, they asked me if I wanted them to, and I said no.”

Robin chokes on her beer. “Why?”

“Oh, I just think it’d ruin the viewer’s experience. Besides, it’s on a paid website. Nobody in their right mind pays for porn.” She cranes her head towards Robin and Robin finally makes eye contact. She tries very hard not to stare at her chest. It’s not that Miranda has such amazing tits, it’s just that you can’t just not look at someone’s tits if they’re right fucking there. “Have you ever paid for porn?”

“No?” Robin says.

“Precisely.”

Robin scoffs, and then chuckles. “So. Wanna tell me about the plot?”

“Oh, yes!” She bounces on the couch, grinning excitedly, her eyes twinkling. Robin must admit, when she isn’t being annoying, she is rather endearing. “They didn’t even plan on filming a prison scene before they hired me, it was supposed to be just a regular gangbang. But then I told that lady that I’m a cop, and she lost her mind. She told me, Miranda, I’m ready to beg you to do a prison scene — and I said, oh you don’t have to beg, I’ll do it, that’s like, so hot. You ever seen Orange Is The New Black?”

“No.”

Miranda sighs. “Babe, you live under a rock.”

Robin just shrugs and drinks some more of her beer.

“Anyway, the plot is basically that I’m a cop who gets ambushed while doing nightly rounds and then they all fuck me and it’s really hot.”

“Sounds very complex,” Robin deadpans.

“It’s better when you see the visuals. And all the girls are reeeeally hot — but you already know that.”

“I’m sure you’re hot too. Like, those girls seemed into you today.”

“Told you — it’s the height.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got other things going.”

Miranda looks at her with those big, blue puppy eyes and Robin feels a wave of affection wash over her like a fucking disease. 

“Like what?” she asks, and Robin can see the question is genuine.

“I don’t know, Hilmarson, but you do,” she mumbles grumpily. “I can’t think of anything right now, you put me on the spot. Let’s just watch the thing.”

She can think of at least a couple of things — but it feels weird to hand out compliments. She can’t force herself to push the words out of her mouth.

Miranda looks a bit disappointed. “Sure,” she says and presses play.

Robin has to admit — this thing isn’t half bad, as far as pornos go. The acting is not terrible (except Miranda’s, which is tragic). The prison uniforms look correct, and Miranda’s does as well — it’s a bit tighter than it needs to be, but Robin thinks it suits her. It shows off her long legs. Miranda actually looks good, and they put some very natural makeup on her. 

Miranda towers over every girl, and it looks a bit ridiculous when the first one comes up to her and shoves her against the wall. That’s, however, when Miranda’s acting really improves — and Robin suspects it’s because she isn’t acting anymore. She looks like she’s really into it.

The intro is long — longer than Robin thought it would be, but she supposes that’s how it is with high quality porn you gotta fucking pay for — and Robin is on her second beer and already drunk, and she can’t stop thinking about how disappointed Miranda looked when she refused to compliment her and she also can’t stop thinking about her tits in that see-through shirt and about her puppy eyes, and wow, that girl pinned her on the bed and bit her neck and Miranda’s moan is really sexy and fuck, that was really hot. Another girl rips off her shirt and Miranda is now only in a lacy blue bra and Robin can see her nipples, and suddenly she’s hyperaware of the fact that she could also see her nipples if she just turned a bit to the left and—

Miranda pauses the video. 

“That’s the intro,” she says, glancing towards Robin. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Robin says and her voice is much squeakier than she intended it to be. She clears her throat. “It’s good.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that? You don’t look like you like it. You’re doing that weird face.”

Robin frowns. “What weird face?”

“That weird face you always do. You scrunch your nose and look annoyed.”

“I think that’s just my face.”

“Oh.”

They sit in awkward silence for a bit, and then Robin turns to Miranda to fully face her.

“I’m a bitch,” she says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “What?”

“I’m a bitch. I’m a bitch to you, I’m a bitch to everyone. Everybody in their right mind has already left me. Why won’t you leave?”

Miranda is silent for a moment. She places her beer down on the coffee table. “Do you… want me to leave you?”

“No.”

“Why? You don’t seem to like me. You couldn’t even think of one thing to compliment me on.”

“That’s because I’m a bitch. But I do like you. And yes, you do annoy me, but I think you have many good qualities. You’re loyal and kind, even when everybody’s being terrible to you, including myself. Your jokes aren’t funny, but they cheer me up. And you have much more going for you than your height. You have nice tits and really long legs and pretty eyes, and no man I ever saw you fool around with was ever worthy of you.”

Miranda stares at her, at a loss for words. “Do you really think that?” she slowly asks.

“Yes. I really don’t understand why you didn’t ditch me a long time ago, though.” She averts her eyes, then takes another sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’m worthy of you either.”

Robin can feel the couch shift as Miranda scoots closer to her. Miranda takes the beer from her hand and places it on the coffee table, then grabs her by the shoulders. “Robin. Robin, look at me.”

Robin reluctantly meets her gaze. She doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close. She can feel Miranda’s breath on her face, and the only thing she can think about is that Miranda’s eyes are very blue.

“I think you’re a good person,” Miranda says. Robin glances at her lips. They are very pink. “You’ve just been through a lot. I like you, and I want to be your friend. I won’t just leave if you’re acting like a bitch sometimes.”

Robin kisses her. 

Miranda squeaks, but she doesn’t pull away. Robin grabs her neck and her waist and pulls her closer and then Miranda is kissing her back. She hums into the kiss and it drives Robin wild, and then she pushes her tongue into Miranda’s mouth and Miranda immediately welcomes it. They kiss like they’re hungry, and Miranda is a sloppy kisser but somehow in a good way, and Robin loves it, loves how warm and wet her tongue is, and how big her hands feel on her waist. Miranda whimpers when Robin’s hands wander to her tits. She finally indulges into what she’s been thinking about the entire evening and gropes Miranda over her shirt. 

Miranda pulls away. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. But I also want to watch the porno till the end. I want to see you get fucked, and then I want to fuck you.”

Miranda’s eyes go dark with desire and she kisses her again, then pulls away. “No problem,” she says, grinning a bit mischievously. She pushes Robin back into the couch. “Lie back and relax. I’ll eat you out while you watch.” 

Robin can’t remember the last time someone ate her out, and her pussy throbs just thinking about it. “Okay,” she says with a breathy voice. Miranda presses play and the video takes off where they paused it — a closeup of Miranda’s tits in the lacy blue bra.

Miranda pushes away the coffee table and sinks down on the floor, getting onto her knees in front of Robin. Robin’s chest is heaving and she can feel her cheeks flushing as Miranda unzips her jeans. “Up,” she says, and Robin lifts her hips. Miranda pulls down her jeans and underwear in one swift move, pulling them over her knees and feet and discarding them on the floor, leaving her completely bare and exposed. Robin almost feels self-conscious, almost tells her to wait, to slow down — but then Miranda looks at her bare pussy with such lust and adoration in her gaze that Robin just can’t feel embarrassed anymore. 

“It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve had someone do this to me,” she says breathlessly. 

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you,” Miranda says, and she also sounds a bit out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. Robin fixes her gaze onto the screen.

  Miranda’s pants are already gone. She’s lying on the bed, handcuffed, her chest and cheeks flushed. One of the girls is straddling her waist and groping her tits underneath her bra, two are kissing and biting her neck, ears and jaw, two are stroking her long legs and slapping her thighs. Miranda is breathing heavily. Her eyes are hazy and dark, her lips parted. The girl straddling her pulls off her bra, ripping it apart and exposing her small, perky tits. Miranda gasps. One of the girls kissing her neck takes her tit into her mouth and bites her nipple, making her cry out. “Fuck,” Miranda breathes out.

“That’s what we’re gonna do to you,” one of the girls says. “Fuck you until you can’t fucking walk, bitch.” The one straddling her starts slapping her tits, the other slaps her cheek, and one of them yanks her panties down. The camera zooms in on Miranda’s pink, dripping cunt.

  Robin lets out a breathy moan — both because of the visual on the screen, and because of Miranda lightly biting the inside of her thigh. She is gentle, reverent — kissing and licking Robin’s thighs, running her thumbs along where Robin’s thighs meet her vulva. Robin is squirming and breathing hard, and she’s surprised how much she’s affected by Miranda’s teasing. 

Finally, Miranda gives Robin’s pussy a hot, long lick — Robin shivers and moans. Miranda’s tongue is warm and wet against her pussy, and she wants more. She grabs her head, tangles her fingers into Miranda’s soft, blonde hair and pulls her closer. Miranda grins into her cunt and starts giving her pussy long, fervent licks.

  One of the girls is fastening a strap around her hips. She hovers over Miranda’s face, lowering her pussy down to Miranda’s mouth, the strap grazing Miranda’s forehead. “Eat my pussy, pretty cop,” she says, and starts riding Miranda’s face. The strap bounces up and down and hits Miranda’s face as the girl grinds her hips and Miranda licks her cunt with fervour — you can tell she’s really into it. One girl is slapping her tits, and the other produces another strap, lubes it up and shoves it into Miranda’s cunt. Miranda’s stomach muscles contract as the girl stretches her out and then starts fucking her at a relentless pace. She’s whimpering and moaning, her face covered in drool and the other girl’s arousal. “Such a tight pussy. Does it hurt, pretty cop?” the girl fucking her mocks her and Miranda can only whimper.    Miranda’s pussy eating is sloppy. She licks and sucks and smears her own drool and Robin’s wetness around with her tongue. She shoves her tongue inside of her, sucks on her pussy lips, licks her clit. 

Robin loves it. 

She’s never felt so worshipped and adored. In the past, when people ate her out, they usually just wanted to be done with it. Miranda is the complete opposite — perhaps she’s sloppy, but she eats her like she’s devouring her favourite meal. She’s taking her time, really getting in there, and she looks like she’s enjoying herself a lot. She’s humming and whimpering along with Robin. The room is filled with sounds from the video mixed with their own, real-time moans, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “Fuck,” Robin gasps as Miranda finds a really good spot. “Do that again, fuck!”

Miranda is really good at following directions — and she really wants to please. She repeats the movement that made Robin cry out many times, and Robin’s thighs start trembling. “Fuck, Miranda,” she pants, and saying her name only spurs Miranda on, and she slips one finger into her dripping cunt and starts slowly fucking her. Robin keens. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

  The girls throw Miranda on the floor, making her kneel on all fours. Her wrists are still handcuffed. One of the girls spits in her mouth. “Suck my cock, slut,” she then says and shoves her strap into Miranda’s mouth. Miranda looks so hot sucking it — the camera zooms in on her face, on her wide and pretty blue eyes as she looks up at the girl fucking her face. The girl grabs her hair and shoves the strap deeper. Miranda’s eyes tear up as she gags, but she never stops sucking, bobbing her back and forth. “What a good slut you are,” the girl says. Miranda whimpers as two girls start spanking her ass, and the other starts fucking her asshole with a dildo.  The girl fucking her mouth pulls the strap out. “You love it. Say you love it.”

“No,” Miranda says, and Robin can tell it’s the script she must follow, because her eyes say yes and she cranes her neck to take the strap into her mouth again.  “Fucking liar. I know you love it, slut,” the girl says and grabs her hair, starts fucking her mouth faster than before. Tears stream down Miranda’s cheeks and she moans in pleasure as her mouth and ass are fucked relentlessly and her ass is spanked until it becomes bright red.

  Miranda slips another finger inside Robin, and Robin moans loudly. Miranda starts fucking her harder and licking her clit faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” Robin whimpers, pulling Miranda closer. Miranda moans as Robin pulls on her hair, and Robin starts rocking her hips against Miranda’s mouth.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Miranda keens as she rides a girl’s strap, while another girl fucks her from behind. Her face and chest are red, there are beads of sweat on her back and forehead, her hair is ruffled, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed with pleasure. Another girl kneels in front of her and shoves her strap in Miranda’s mouth again, muffling her cries of pleasure. The other two girls are pleasuring themselves, watching Miranda get fucked in every hole. The girl underneath her gropes her tits and the one behind her slaps her ass as they fuck her. 

The girl fucking her mouth pulls on her hair. “That’s it, you’re gonna come from this like a dirty slut,” she says and pulls the strap out of her mouth, and Miranda screams as pleasure overwhelms her. The girls don’t stop fucking her, and she keeps moaning and screaming and rocking her hips. “Fuckyes,” she cries as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

  “Ah, Miranda,” Robin cries, “don’t stop — ah, fuck!” She feels herself clenching around Miranda’s fingers. She grinds on Miranda’s face, and Miranda hums and moans into her pussy, fucks her hard and fast until the tight coil in Robin’s belly snaps and she comes — hard. 

“Shit — fuck!” she cries. Miranda continues to fuck her and doesn’t stop licking her clit. Robin feels the tension build again, and before she knows it a second orgasm washes over her like a wave. She keens and clenches her thighs around Miranda’s head, trying to push her away from her sensitive clit. Miranda slowly pulls her fingers out of her and continues to gently lick her through the aftershocks. Robin’s thighs tremble. “Fuck,” she says breathlessly, her muscles convulsing as Miranda gives her aching clit a small kitten lick.

When Robin looks at the TV again, the screen is black.

She glances down at Miranda kneeling in between her legs. Miranda smiles and wipes her mouth on her forearm. She gives Robin that pretty, wide eyed look that Robin can’t admit she loves. 

“Do you have a strap?” Robin asks. 

“Yeah. Want me to fuck you with the strap?” Miranda asks, still a bit out of breath, climbing back up on the couch.

“No. I want to fuck you with it and make you moan like you did in the porno.”

Miranda’s face lights up. She smiles at Robin, grabs her arm and leads her towards the bedroom.

Miranda comes three times that night. After making her admit she came five times on the set, Robin makes a pact with herself to reach that number next time — but right now, she’s very, very sleepy.

As they lie next to each other on the bed, Miranda tentatively reaches for Robin’s hand. Robin doesn’t pull away. They stay like that for a bit, and then Robin rolls over and wraps her arm around Miranda’s waist. She can tell Miranda loves it.

“So, what are we now?” Miranda asks as she rubs little circles on her back.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks into Miranda’s chest, knowing very well what she means.

“I mean, are we an item?”

Robin waits a moment before she responds. 

“Not yet,” she says. “But… we could be.”

With her face buried in Miranda’s torso, she can’t see her smile.

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Big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta-reading. <3

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