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[gothicprep]

i've been meaning to write something for a while now about how misinformation is not a partisan issue, it's just an issue in general. i was mulling over writing something about how infowars waterboards statistics into saying whatever alex jones wants – i'll still probably do that in the future – but it's not something that exactly supports my thesis here.

but, lucky me, i had a perfect example fall into my lap this week.

so, was andrew tate taken into custody over twitter beef with greta thunberg? the short answer is "no" but i'll elaborate.

here's the primary romanian news report about the cops taking the tate brothers into custody. the way that this has been reported in US news media has basically been that a pizza box in andrew tate's video response to thunberg helped romanian authorities confirm his location. here's a daily beast article that insinuates this:

In a video rant he uploaded to Twitter, in which he smoked a cigar and tried to brush off the online spat, he unwittingly displayed a pizza box from a local pizza chain—alerting authorities looking for him to his presence in the country.

here's the problem with that, though – none of the romanian journalists who reported on this story said anything about the pizza box thing. there's also a huge problem with these stories just... citing each other.

if you dig through the citation loop long enough, you end on this daily star article that cites tweets (jurnelism!) from, of course, alejandra caraballo

According to Alejandra Caraballo, a writer and clinical instructor posting on Twitter: “Romanian authorities needed proof that Andrew Tate was in the country so they reportedly used his social media posts.

(as an aside, if you follow her on twt, i'd heavily recommend against doing that. she spews bullshit like her life depends on it and i think this is inexcusable.)

these are caraballo's tweets in question:

the source for this is the romanian article i linked to earlier in this post. it doesn't say any of this. at least, the english translated version of it doesn't. for what it's worth, i'm not a romanian speaker, and i don't have any benchmark for judging if google's translation service is missing linguistic nuances. here's what it actually says:

Sources close to the investigation stated, for Gândul , that shortly after the completion of the computer expertise, the authorities waited for the right moment to catch the Tate brothers, who were always out of the country.

After seeing, including on social networks, that they were together in Romania, the DIICOT prosecutors mobilized the special troops of the Gendarmerie and descended, by force, on their villa in Pipera, but also on other addresses.

it's also probably worth pointing out that tate's villa was previously searched in april. while the article does say that social media was used to help confirm their location, it doesn't say anything about pizza boxes. and, like, given that tate is a prolific social media poster and was tweeting out videos of romania on sunday, i think it's safe to assume they had a wealth of other information to go off.

and if you don't want to take my word for it, nyt and wapo both reported that the spokesperson for the romanian prosecutor presiding over the case denied the pizza box thing:

Speculation online centered on whether a distinctive pizza box featured in one of Mr. Tate’s tweets to Ms. Thunberg had helped lead the authorities to him, but Ramona Bolla, a spokeswoman for the Directorate for the Investigation of Organized Crime and Terrorism, told The New York Times on Friday that that was not the case.

anyway, ain't it funny how caraballo's made the fuck up pizza tweet got 76 million views, 97k retweets, and 525k likes, while her appended correction got 78k views, 100 retweets, and 820 likes. her initial "source: my mind" tweet is still up. ain't. it. funny.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

[jewish-sideblog]

the fact that the biggest hatewave of antisemitism ive ever personally experienced in my lifetime is coming from primarily the left, which are the people I thought had my back as a queer sephardic jew, is truly unsettling to me

Yup! I honestly could write a master’s thesis on the way the Western left uses their perceived moral superiority to downplay the fact that they’re often just as bigoted as the right.

And, like, I say that as a lifelong leftist. My whole life, I tried to surround myself with people who were pro-Queer, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, anti-fascist. I had multiple social circles full of people who I thought were opposed to hatred and exploitation. Then about a month ago, they all started calling for the complete extermination of my people. What the fuck are you supposed to do in response to that?

We need more leftists who are pro-Jewish before they’re anti-fascist. Otherwise it’s all just lip service and parroting propaganda.

[shipmansflannels]

the yellowjackets with a younger s/o...

hey, I'm back! it didn't take me long, right? it must be because I have too many things to write on this blog, finally (and I have relatively enough time to organize my ideas for now). so I thought, I made a headcannon of the young yellowjackets, but I might as well make the adult survivors, right? anyway, maybe this is also a sign to say that I will "moderately" write stories with the adult versions, too. who cheered? anyway, without further ado, let's go! thanks for the likes on the first post, I'm glad you liked it! enjoy! sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

---------

dating a younger person with the yellowjackets women...

shauna shipman.

okay, it's canonical that shauna would have no problem being in a relationship with someone younger.

I mean, even after adam, I think she would be willing to try.

it would be a lot easier in her mind, because dating someone younger means being able to reconnect with callie more easily too.

in shauna's mind, the two of you would be best friends based on your approximate age, regardless of how old you were.

now in terms of dating shauna, i think she would inevitably be an easy going person, to a certain extent.

overprotective as hell, of course, because she's lost so many people she loves over time (and it's become an incurable trauma in her life), that she can't bear to lose you.

she would also cook for you (rabbit meat inserted) all the time, especially if you felt like eating something special.

oh yes, the weekends would have to include callie with you, which is actually not a problem. at least not for you.

I feel like shauna hasn't been, since she was a teenager, someone who would be involved in loud parties or anything like that, so probably the perfect date for her would be watching a movie at home, wrapped in blankets with you, popcorn and soda and a solitude considerable enough for you to kiss, exchange affection and even make out (or have sex) without anyone to get in the way.

natalie scatorccio.

natalie, like shauna, would also have no problem dating someone younger.

since her life has always been full of risks and she was never very afraid of taking most of them, I honestly think that age never made much of a difference to her, at least not after middle age.

but to be honest, dating natalie comes with a combo of even bigger problems and risks that you wouldn't be able to deal with if you didn't love her so much.

I see natalie completely using her s/o as an outlet, or a shield. after rehab, you would be like a kind of warning for her to control herself.

not that it wouldn't also include (if you're a smoker) the two of you smoking in your spare time when you're bored.

natalie would be the kind of girlfriend you could have any conversation in the world with, sober or not. she probably has and gained enough empathy to listen to you and give you accurate advice on how to live your life.

making out a lot and having sex in unusual places also counts.

in my head, despite everything, natalie is the master of serving affection. spooning with her is the best whenever you need it.

she would do anything for you. everything really. anything.

she would be able to get into a fight for you. and risking her own life as well.

lottie matthews.

number one defender of the thesis: "age is just a number".

lottie is literally the personification of quality time and acts of service.

much because of her lonely life, her traumatic and confusing teenage years and the relationships she maintained with people over time, lottie would probably never want you to lack for anything, so any opportunity she has to be with you, she will be, even on her worst days.

arts and crafts dates with her when she is not taking care of camp green pine. you spend hours enjoying each other's company, and the whole world falls silent.

extremely overprotective of you too. just the thought of losing you because of her own insecurities leaves lottie haunted for weeks if she stops to think about it.

she is the ideal companion for anxiety and panic attacks.

she will most likely use the techniques she learned over time with you. if they work, that's another matter. (they always work because in the end it was never about lottie's gift, it was about her company).

a little submissive, a little dominant during sex. lottie is probably the typical "am I hurting you?" at the right time and even if you insist no, she will ask again just to be sure.

she's also the master spooner (I literally see you two fighting over who's going to be the big spoon every night).

taissa turner.

ok, public life has always been a problem for taissa.

but when she's with you, she's able to forget about it for a few minutes.

despite all this freedom, taissa never lets you go out unaccompanied (without a bodyguard) or lets you read the headlines or see the commercials about her first, for fear of any criticism about your age difference.

but more than anything, it's you she turns to when the stress finally gets to her on the worst days.

I see her making any effort for you, and I see her trying to keep a fine line between you and her old life too.

this includes your relationship with sammy, which, in fact, has always been the best possible, and her friendly relationship with simone as well. taissa knows that she cannot take her son out of her ex-wife's life and, even so, she makes a point of including you in family programs with him.

she will literally spend it all on you. anything you ask for, even with a high amount of money, she will buy.

it's probably a way of apologizing about her sleepwalking and her traumas making her even remotely distant from you for some time.

like I said, you're the one she looks for when crises end up attacking her mental health. she won't sleep if you're not safe in bed with her and she makes a point of being snuggled in her arms so she doesn't have any sleepwalking attacks in the middle of the night.

dates with her are always in fancy places, but taissa doesn't care about them that much.

anniversaries, yes, she always takes you to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

but, on her days off, she would easily choose to just spend time with you watching a stupid series or a cliché movie while you sleep cuddling in the middle of it.

sex always, sex anywhere, sex on any occasion. you will never miss this, you can be sure.

van palmer.

this nerdy woman deserves the world and a significant other who doesn't know half of her references.

you two are a match made in heaven, for sure.

van wouldn't waste time trying to get you to watch all the movies that were popular in her time. and she would use your ability to tinker with technology for the video store whenever necessary.

this woman is literally the embodiment of girlfriend material.

quality time, acts of service, words of affirmation, she has mastered every love language in existence, you bet.

van will always cook for you. there are rare nights when she lets you make dinner or even order any junk food.

she would also stop whatever she was doing so she could cuddle with you whenever you needed her.

dates with van are always at the cinema, or at an amusement park, or, when she is a little less in debt, at a tourist spot around the world that you would mention that you want to see.

she has good enough memory to remember them all.

the sex is always good, always affectionate, and every now and then, when she's not tired, you'd try a quickie in the bedroom for just a little while, until you feel satisfied.

hopeless romantic until the end of time.

misty quigley.

a walking red flag, misty would probably treat a relationship with someone younger as if it were a great adventure.

well, if you like crazy women, misty is your ideal partner.

she has a bit of a misconception about taking care of you and keeping you safe, so every now and then she'll make a point of checking your calendar and trying to monitor meetings with people in your circle, just to make sure there's no problem.

but this is also a good thing because, if there is a specific date or specific problem, she will remember it and make everyone special, in her own way.

anyway, but she's a good girlfriend too, aside from the weirdness. she has everything under control, she is attentive to you and makes a point of making your day better if it is bad.

dates with her don't need much. If it's in a cafe relaxing and talking about her day, if it's watching crime series or chatting with her about citizen detectives, she'll be happy.

sex is also good, to be honest. I see misty as the roleplay girl, so if she's in the mood to roleplay with you, you can be sure she'll do it. from weirdest to sexiest, it also depends on her day.

she achieved the feat of making a young person like a bird and want to have a bird at home. she is, at the moment, the only one of them to be able to do this masterfully.

[marxism-transgenderism]

Reading academic histories of settler colonialism is often infuriating because so many scholars at best only pay lip service to the anti colonial movements that do most of the heavy lifting in theorizing settler colonialism.

Most simply cite Patrick Wolfe's 1999 book Settler Colonialism and the Transformation of Anthropology as the origin of the term. Others take it back even further, noting Marx and Engels use of the term "the colonies proper" to distinguish settler colonies from colonies like India. Lorenzo Veracini, the current leading scholar on settler colonialism, cites the first instance of the term in Donald Denoon's 1983 book Settler Capitalism.

Yet the same year that Denoon published his book, the activist J. Sakai was writing a book that would come to be called Settlers for his comrades in the Black Liberation Army, which opens with: "The key to understanding Amerika is to see that it was a chain of European settler colonies that expanded into a settler empire."

Rather than citing Denoon or any other scholar, Sakai attributes his understanding of settler colonialism principally to his Palestinian comrades who shared their understanding of Israeli settler colonialism with him. Indeed, we can even see in documents by groups like the PFLP like the Strategy for the Liberation of Palestine, Israel is regularly referred to as a "colonial-settler state."

There are plenty of other examples of revolutionary groups doing to legwork of theorizing settler colonialism long before any academic wrote a thesis on it. Yet within academia there is this chronic refusal to acknowledge non-academic work. Indeed it's no surprise most of these academics are settlers themselves or are white Europeans.

Thus, it becomes clear that's its not merely enough to learn about settler colonialism. No amount of book reading or thesis writing will end genocide, and indeed many of those authors and scholars can go there whole careers without ever working with or acknowledging those on the ground struggling against settler colonial states. As always, decolonization is not a metaphor. It is not simply a scholarly journal or academic handbook. It is a determination to completely upend the current order based on displacement and genocide, and academia will never be the vanguard of such a struggle.

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU)/ 18+

Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Warnings: contains fluff, smut, unprotected sex, alcohol and cigarette consumption, angst, soft!dom/sub vibes, angry-fucking (consensual), stubborn reader

I played a little bit 'what if...' and no, I'm not retelling MCU stuff, I always create my own

It took you some hours to find sleep last night. You didn't even remember when and how you returned from the library back home. You were kind of paralyzed after you had found out the truth about Luke… no, Loki was his name. It wasn't the fact that you had fallen in love with an alien or that he was maybe the demi-god from the myths. It was the fact that the newspaper articles, which you didn't even read completely, were saying that he was a bad guy, an invader, evil, destructive and a ‘war criminal’. Maybe he had been all of this but you weren't in a position to judge him for that and also you'd never do that. What confused you was that it absolutely didn't fit the impression you had gotten of him in all the time you've spent together. Loki was the most attentive, caring, loveable and sweetest man you've ever met. There must be more to it, something like a change of mind on his part.

You wished you could talk to him just one more time to ask him all the questions you had. But you had destroyed this path and the possibility of him finding you was low. Besides, you were sure he'd stopped looking for you. You were sure with him paying you for fourteen days and nights, which was a hella lot of money, and your refusal to take it, he was done with you once and for all. Understandable because in the end you'd just offered him a service and your body and your kisses might never have meant anything to him.

The next morning a knock at your door ripped you out of your work. You were already sitting in front of your laptop again writing your thesis, a mug of freshly brewed coffee next to you and several textbooks and already printed pages of your thesis lying spread on the table. And not to speak about the clothes which were spread around your apartment, on the floor and the sofa or the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and the several empty packages from the Indian and Chinese takeaway or the pizza and pasta boxes. Your nutrition was a catastrophe these days but you hadn't any time for doing groceries and cooking some fresh and healthy food. Living in the chaos, too much coffee and junk food wasn't the best thing but the easiest until your exams were done and tidy-up you could do later.

“Coming!” You answered the knocking and stood up from the chair. You didn't expect a visitor at this time but you guessed it could be one of your neighbors.

“Hi, y/n I'm so sorry for disturbing you,” your lovely neighbour Karen greeted you after you had opened the door. She was still in her pyjamas like you. It was still early in the morning.

“Hey, Karen, no issues, you're not disturbing me. What can I do for you?” You asked her.

“I don't wanna be annoying, dear but could you lend me some flour and sugar? I want to make some blinis before I leave for work and I don't have enough flour and forgot to buy sugar…”

“No problem, of course I can lend you flour and sugar…wait, I'm back in a minute,” you laughed and vanished into your kitchen. You came back with a bag of sugar and a bag of flour and passed both to Karen.

“You can keep it and bring me some new flour and sugar in the next few days, there's no hurry,” you said and smiled brightly at her.

“Oh dearest you're a lifesaver,” she answered thankfully. “I'll bring you some blinis tomorrow when I'm back from my night shift,” and she waved you goodbye.

“It's alright, dear, thank you,” and you waved her goodbye, too. You closed the door and went back to your laptop, sat down again and continued writing. You had just finished a couple of sentences and drunk your coffee when it knocked at your door again. You looked up from the screen towards the door and a smile curved your lips.

“Coming,” you called towards the door and opened it with a bright smile on your face. “Have you forgotten something,” you asked while opening the door because you assumed it would be Karen again but when you had opened the door completely your smile died immediately and your face froze. After a second of realization, you slammed the door shut and leaned with your back against it. That couldn't be. How the hell did he find you?

Walker had told Loki in which apartment he would find you before he got out of the car. Loki didn't know which doorbell he should ring. Walker hadn't told him your real name because he thought it wasn't his job to do so. You had to tell Loki your name yourself. He already brought him here, to your house and it was more than he was allowed to do. It would cost him his job if Rhea found out about this and he considered himself as already sacked. But he wanted to help you both because he thought you two were a wonderful couple and that Loki and you had great chemistry. He also had the impression that Loki was the right man for you to help get you out of danger and out of the escort business. He still was convinced you didn't belong there and he was also convinced that Loki's obvious feelings for you were genuine.

Before Loki could think about which doorbell to ring first, someone left the building and he could get into the hallway. He used the stairway to get to your apartment and took some deep breaths, adjusted his jacket and raked his hands through his hair before he knocked at your entrance door. He was nervous. Would you open the door and let him in? Possibly not and he wasn't really prepared for your possible rejection. He yearned for you and he just wanted you back.

“Coming,” he heard you happily calling. When you opened the door it seemed you were awaiting someone else who had maybe forgotten something and instead of greeting him, your beautiful smile vanished immediately, your face froze and you slammed the door shut right into his face. Damn, that was rude but relatable. He came unannounced and maybe much too early in the morning so he should've expected this reaction of yours. And no, he wasn't prepared for your rejection. Absolutely not.

“Sugar…please open the door. I just want to talk to you. But not through a closed door. Sugar…let me in, sweets…please,” he begged you, sadness in his soothing voice. How much you had missed his voice, talking calmingly to you. How much you had missed him.

“I've searched for you everywhere and for so long… Sugar, I need you back, please… sweets, open the door. Please!”

Should you open the door? He sounded so sad and desperate.

You turned around and slowly, very slowly you opened the door just a crack and lurked through it at him. He looked so unbelievably beautiful in his dark trousers, the dark-grey t-shirt with a V-neck and his black pea coat. It was the first time that you saw him in casual clothes and you were well aware that you were still in your white loose-fitting sleep shirt and your pink pyjama bottoms with the butterfly pattern, your face undone and your hair untamed and tousled. The real you, at least in the morning. He hadn't seen you like this either. And you looked anything but sexy.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him shyly, some wariness in your gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” Loki answered whispering, utterly delighted that you had opened your door for him. “And I need to talk to you, sweets.”

You slowly opened the door completely and stepped aside so he could walk past you and come in. Loki followed your wordless invitation and entered your apartment. You closed the door and turned around towards him, looking at his broad back and strong shoulders which radiated so much safety, watching him take off his pea coat and hang it up in your wardrobe next to your jackets and bags. You already knew that your jackets would later smell like him and that was a comforting thought. Loki looked lovingly at you and a slight smile appeared on his pretty face, studying your loveable appearance.

“They're very tousled…they always are, except when I'm Sugar,” you said quietly when you saw him staring at you and twirled a strand of your hair around one finger, looking at him embarrassed.

“You always look adorable, sweets and I like your hair when you wear it open. I always wished to see you like this,” Loki said, smiling lovingly at you.

“Take a seat, please…oh, wait…,” you offered him after some moments of awkward silence and you hurriedly took several clothes off the sofa to make room for him to sit down.

“I'm so sorry for the untidiness, I'm in final preparations for my exams and I barely have time to clean up… and I didn't expect any visitors,” you apologetically explained the mess of your apartment.

“Don't worry about it, sweets. I'm not here to judge about the condition of your apartment,” and he took a seat on the couch.

“Fancy a tea or a coffee?” You asked, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. You were curious about how he found out where you live. Someone must've helped him.

“Some coffee would be great,” Loki answered, leaning back against the sofa's backrest and spreading his legs. Him sitting like this and his amazing thighs would always do things to you. Memories of what he had made you do on his thighs flashed back into your mind and made your mouth watery and your cheeks blush. You would never get over him. A shiver ran down your spine and made your core tingle and your nipples tighten. You quickly went over to the kitchen to pour some coffee for him in a mug and you felt his gaze following you.

While you were walking toward your small open kitchen to get him a coffee, Loki let his gaze follow you. You looked adorable in your comfy sleeping clothes. He loved to see your face without any make-up and your hair open and undone. Probably he wouldn't have recognised you in the streets because you looked different like this, and you were more beautiful than he could've ever imagined. Your casual clothing makes you look so comfortable. He could sense your slightly peaked nipples under your t-shirt and he felt waves of arousal running through his body. But he wasn't here to get horny, he was here to talk and get you back.

He let his gaze wander further through your small apartment. It was truly a mess right now. On your desk, a chaos of textbooks and printed pages of your thesis around your laptop and an empty coffee mug next to it, clothes everywhere, empty food packages and pizza boxes. It wasn't to miss that you were focused on your studies only. But he also saw the order in your chaos and he could relate to it. Being the god of mischief also meant that chaos was a great part of his business as well, among other things.

The only tidy thing was the evening gown he had given to you, neatly on a hanger hanging on the open door of your bedroom, right next to your dresser. On your dresser, he saw some photos in a frame. In the pictures were you as a child in the arms of a woman who he assumed was your mum, both laughing and presenting self-made cinnamon rolls to the camera and in another one where you stood with your mum on a beach with the sea and an old castle on a hill in the sea in the background, you both brightly smiling into the camera again. Your childhood must've been a wonderful one. You looked so happy in the pictures.

Next to the photos he discovered the small bouquet of his self-picked wildflowers, well-done dried and nicely decorated on the top of your dresser. A slight smile curved his lips because it touched his heart that you had kept his little gift and that you'd decorated it so lovingly. Next to your dresser, he saw your shoes, relatively neatly placed. The black high heels, the golden high heel sandals, the knee-high leather boots… and a pair of dark-green trainers. He frowned and raised his eyebrows. He was sure he had seen them before somewhere and more than once.

“Here, your coffee. Black and pure, the way you like it, I assume,” you passed him the mug, ripping him out of his thoughts. You sat down next to him and let your gaze wander from the patch of his chest hair up to his pretty face with this chiselled jaw and cheekbones, framed by those incredible black curls, his gaze piercing but heartwarming as always. There was so much longing in it. Nonetheless, you felt stripped by his staring. Maybe it was because he saw the real you for the very first time. You were in your comfy clothes, undone and vulnerable and you couldn't hide behind the pretty mask named Sugar. You felt so fragile and you were at the brink of crying. On the other hand, how dare he come here? You had forbidden him to search you and suddenly you felt angry too.

“How did you find me,” you asked him sternly. Loki sipped his coffee and placed the mug on a free space on the coffee table.

“I looked everywhere for you, sweets and there isn't a place I haven't been to find you and I didn't want to wait until our next appointment to see you again,” Loki answered genuinely and calmly.

“This is not what I meant. Who told you where to find me? Was it Rhea? You don't know my name, you didn't even know how I look when I'm not Sugar, so who told you?” Your anger and anxiety grew, your voice got louder and tears welled up in your eyes. This always happens when you are angry or scared.

“Rhea didn't tell me anything about you or where you live. Walker brought me here. I asked him for help. I knew no other way anymore and he's the only person who knows where you live. I've been to Vivian's Velvet more than once but nobody there knows Sugar… They know just Candy. I don't know what to think about it…”

“There's no relevance to it and should be none of your concerns. And Walker…it'll cost him his job and Rhea… didn't she tell you to stay away from me, that I don't want to see you again? Didn't she send you the money back? I also told you in my letter that I don't want you to be involved in my shit. Why don't you just leave me alone?” you continued ranting.

“Did you really think I wouldn't look for you after that incredible night we spent together and the letter you left behind, telling me that someone is blackmailing you? And please don't be mad at Walker. He's concerned about you too. He wanted to help and I had to convince him that I need to find you, that I have my reasons for it and that my intentions are good. He didn't do it lightly. Rhea didn't tell me anything, she just sent my money back to my bank account with that note ‘acceptance denied’. I don't understand…”

“Oh yes, talking about that… who do you think you are? Did you want to buy me? Seriously? Giving me all your money to ‘save’ me so you can own me and tell me what to do or not to do? Forbid me to escort other men? Because I owe you then?” You got off the sofa and walked some steps away from him. You needed some distance. You turned around to face him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I might be a whore and you can buy my services but you cannot buy me, loverboy and I'll never take any money from anyone without working for it. It's the last bit of pride I have left and you…,” you pointed with a finger at him, “...won't take this from me. I'm not your property. I won't depend on your mercy, I don't need this ever again,” you yelled at him and some tears ran down your cheeks. You didn't want to yell at him or push him away like that but your anxieties and your saved emotions took the better of you. Also, you feared the consequences it could have when you asked him for help. Consequences not only for you but for him.

“And I'm not mad at Walker, I'm mad at you. Mad at you because you didn't stop looking for me, mad at you because you forced him to bring you here and risk his job, mad at you that you tried to force me to take your money without consideration.” You knew you were overreacting and you shouldn't treat him like that, he didn't deserve to be treated like that. He had always been kind and loving with you but you became more and more overwhelmed by everything that was threatening you for months now.

“Are you done now?” He asked resentfully.

“I didn't want to buy you. I just paid for the time you may have spent with me and escorting me if you would have been bookable. I don't demand anything from you, you owe me nothing, sweets,” he vehemently explained but you shook your head in disbelief.

“Everything in life has its price, ‘Luke’. Life gives you nothing!” You spat.

“Why are you implying I did something bad? I did it because I care about you, because… I don't want you to meet other men, because I can't stand the fact that other men look at you, touch you, desire you,” Loki stated. Why were you so angry and stubborn? And why have you emphasized his name like that?

“And why is that? I'm an escort, it's my job to meet men and you're a client like them. Why can't you stand it?” You wanted to know but maybe you already knew the answer, and he was definitely more to you than just a client.

“Because… because I fell in love with you and I want you all for myself. I know it wasn't supposed to happen…but it happened nonetheless. And I was jealous, so damn jealous of your other clients, all the other men who were horny for you. Now it's out, now you know why!” He just hoped you would finally give in now and let him help you.

“No, you don't love me. You don't know me. You love my fake identity, the carefree, tempting little shit named Sugar, who escorts other men and who escorts you and also fucked with you for a living. That's not love, Luke. That's just lust and passion…” Angry tears ran down your cheeks and you ran your fingers through your hair. You wished you could give in and tell him everything. In the end, you just wanted to be with him.

“Just lust and passion you say? What were your kisses then? Were they just fake too?” Loki's heart sank. This conversation didn't go as he expected and escalated quickly.

“They were just…kisses and without any meaning...probably,” you stammered. It was a lie but you couldn't admit the true feelings you had for him. He still didn't know everything about you and at least he wouldn't stay. So why give in to the feeling of love when he would leave you anyway? “I told you right from the beginning that you mustn't fall in love with me!”

“I never wanted to fall in love with you, yet I did,” he whispered under his breath.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” His answer to that was just a huff and a headshake.

“Ah, and about your kisses, Sugar … so they were kisses without meaning, you say. Didn't you tell me you only ever kiss a man when you're in love with him? So that was a lie then?… Well, interesting because I know whenever you're lying and it didn't feel like a lie when we kissed. But it's okay, I'll accept that you don't want me and that your kisses were fake.” It broke your heart further when you heard him saying that because contrary to what he said you wanted him and your kisses had been genuine but this pain now in your heart was the price you had to pay for all the fucked up shit.

“Nonetheless you can accept my help and my money. Consider it a gift. Nothing can change my ambition to keep you away from other men.” His anger grew and he just wanted to grab you and shake the stubbornness out of you so you would finally let him be there for you. “The worst thing is you're still convinced you can solve your problem alone. Girl, someone is blackmailing you and this piece of shit who does this to you with whatever it is wants a lot of money you don't have and will never get on an honestly or legally way. How many men do you want to fuck to earn all that money, hm? Ten, fifty, hundred?” He angrily questioned, waiting for your answer.

“I'd sleep with every filthy rich guy in Manhattan if necessary, my only issue is that I don't have enough time anymore for that,” you said desperately and sternly, more tears slowly running down your cheeks. The truth was you only wanted him to grab you, fuck you properly and wished immediately afterwards everything would be alright again.

“Are you kidding me? You're never going to do that. You aren't a whore, you've never been. And even if you were, according to your letter you're just my whore, aren't you? So who are you kidding?” He asked you too loudly and he was really sorry for that.

“Do I have to fuck some mind into you first so you finally take my money and let me help you?” In one quick move he stood up from the sofa and with two big strides he stood in front of you. “Come here, then work for it, you sweet stubborn whore! Be a good girl for me!” He growled angrily and darkly, grabbed you by your upper arms and walked you backwards towards your kitchen. His sudden action took you off guard but actually it was exactly what you wanted him to do. All of the pent-up frustration, anxieties and longing for each other needed to be released. Words couldn't do it for you two right now so you two had to act.

“You know what? I've had enough of your stubbornness!”

He quickly turned you around and bent you over the kitchen counter tugging your pyjama bottoms hastily down and your linen panty quickly aside. He then pushed two of his fingers purposefully into your cunt, pumping them in and out a few times before he rubbed them, slick with your juices, back and forth through your folds and over your clit, making you moan lasciviously. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him, to hurt you would never be his intention. He wanted nothing else than you listening to him and making you happy again. He would make you listen to him, he would make you believe that he wanted to help you, that he loved you and that he would never leave you alone. But he was so angry and worried and he wanted you to feel it physically because his words didn't reach you. And besides all that he just needed you, now.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, still angry and panting heavily. His dominant behaviour turned you incredibly on.

“I do just what you need right now and the only thing you'll understand because you don't hear what I'm trying to tell you, you stubborn girl,” he growled into your ear and he continued pumping his fingers deeply in and out of you.

“Look at you, my little brat, so wet already, you're so shameless and horny, eager to get fucked, aren't you? Want me to have my way with you? Want me to make you work for me, hm? So you can take my money with a clear conscience? Does this make you so wet or is it just because of me and the knowledge that I'll fuck you properly and relentlessly into oblivion? Tell me, sweet thing, want me to take you?” His arousal got bigger with every second he had you under his tight grip and he just waited for your consent. He wouldn't continue without that.

“Yes, oh god, yes, fuck me, that's what I want. Make me listen… make me believe,” you whimpered with genuine longing, trying to get a grip on the kitchen counter. You wanted him to make you forget about everything even if it were just for a short moment.

“Oh yes, your god will take you, never doubt me, sweet thing.” Loki snarled lustfully and tugged your panties finally down. He unfastened his belt quickly, opened the zipper and freed his manhood. He stroked himself a few times, kicked your legs further apart and shoved his steel-hard, pre-cum dripping cock straight into your wet cunt. He fucked you hard and deeply but carefully to not hurt you. He was so deep yet not deep enough, his swollen balls were slapping against your clit and his cock slid powerfully over your special spot inside of you. It wouldn't take you long to reach your climax and your obscene moans were witness to it.

Loki grabbed you firmly by your hips and penetrated you faster and faster until one of his hands slid quickly up at your flank and over your shoulder. He grabbed the front of your throat and closed his big hand around it. He pulled your upper body backward against his chest, still holding firmly onto your hip and your throat, slamming his needy cock into your silken heat as violently and deeply as possible, almost breaking you in half. Your one hand clasped his nape, your other hand his forearm and you couldn't do anything else than let him fuck you pretty hard. His dominance and his deep demanding thrusts let you spiral deeper into arousal and lust.

“You better arch that back if you want to cum, sweet thing,” he commanded seductively and you just obeyed and confirmed your will to come by arching your back and letting out a long moan.

“You feel so good, make me cum, please make me cum, I need you,” you begged him breathlessly. His hand around your throat and his merciless thrusts brought you quickly to the brink of climaxing. The violence and impetuosity of his love-making surprised you and you already knew you wanted more of it, more of him. You wanted him to play with you, to punish you, punish you for running away, for refusing his help, for being a brat and arguing with him.

You knew he was desperate for you as much as you were desperate for him and you also knew that he would never hurt you. Angry-fucking was your secret kink you never dared talk about to your ex and you were glad that Loki was the one who fulfilled your dream. You would feel so much better afterwards, you just knew it. Once he promised you pleasure and didn't disappoint you, he never did and as soon as you were together with him you felt safe. He released your throat and his hand wandered down to one of your breasts, firmly cupping and kneading it and pinching and playing with your nipple.

“I'll fuck the stubbornness out of you, girl and when you're about to cum you'll say my name … did you hear me?” He commanded.

“Yesss, yes I heard you,” you moaned breathlessly.

He felt your cunt massaging his cock and he knew he wasn't going to last long and your permanent moans and whimpers nearly sent him straight over the edge.

“Oh god, I'm about to cum,” you squeaked and you couldn't hold it back anymore. He felt so good and you felt so heavenly full of him.

He fucked you like an animal and a wolfish grin curved his lips. “Then say my name… say it,” and he tried to get deeper while his thrusts became sloppier.

“I'm coming, Loki… please don't stop…”

“Say my name…” and you felt him heavily panting against the sweaty skin of your neck.

“Loki…,” and with an obscene scream you came hard around his throbbing cock.

He gritted his teeth and threw his head back when he came undone with an animalistic groan. He filled you to the brim and enjoyed the silky grip of your cunt milking him. His knees were buckling and he collapsed against your back, carefully guiding your upper bodies towards the countertop so you could both rest there for a moment and catch your breaths.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” Loki groaned and pressed a kiss to your sweaty neck and heard your quiet sigh.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched his cum dripping out of your well-fucked pussy. He was more than pleased. He cleaned himself with a sheet of paper towel which he grabbed from the kitchen counter and put his cock back in his briefs and trousers.

You were still dizzy and bathed in the aftermath of your orgasm and his domination and you still craved for his touch. You felt his cum running down your legs. You raised your torso from the kitchen counter and reached for a sheet of paper towel to dry your inner thighs. Loki looked satisfied at you and smirked.

“Can we talk like adults now?” He asked you teasingly, his cheeks rosy and the blue shimmer under his skin was gone. You both felt much better now and that's what you radiated. Sometimes a good fuck was all you needed.

“Yes,...yes, we can. I just want to clean myself quickly, please excuse me for a moment,” you said quietly, turning around to face him. He looked exhausted but satisfied and you were sure you didn't look any different.

“No,” he answered softly and shook his head.

“No?”

“No, my cum stays inside of you,” he smirked and he helped you into your panties and your pyjama bottoms and pulled both up and over your butt.

“I want you to feel how seriously I want to help you and how much you mean to me.”

He pulled you gently against his chest and wrapped his arms around you, cradling you carefully. You reciprocated his embrace and buried your face in his chest. You breathed in his familiar scent you had missed so much. Not only the scent of his skin or his cologne, or the musky after-sex scent. It was the scent of love, comfort and safety.

He dipped his head to kiss you and latched his lips onto yours and when you opened your lips, his tongue slid into your mouth exploring your warmth and your softness. Your heart felt like it had to explode and you reciprocated his loving kiss with utter passion.

To have you back in his arms, feeling your softness, inhaling your sweet scent and kissing you passionately again was the greatest feeling of all and the only thing he ever wanted. This ugly feeling of anger and tension was gone and you were closer to each other again. There was a lot you had to talk about and it seemed that the time had come now.

“My kisses were and are genuine, please believe me,” you whispered after that amazing kiss and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“I know and I do believe you. Are you okay, sweets? I hope I didn't hurt you,” he asked you softly and concernedly.

“No, you didn't. I feel good. Maybe it's what I needed and was necessary to get my conscious mind back,” you answered soothingly.

“I didn't want to go too rough on you, I'm so sorry, sweet thing …,” he murmured.

“It felt good and I liked it. I know I call myself sugar but I'm not made of it,” you told him softly and you raised your head to look smilingly at him. You kissed him on his soft lips and raked one hand through his soft curls.

“I'm sorry that I yelled at you, it wasn't fair,” you said apologetically. “I didn't intend to rail you up.”

“It's alright, sweets I get that, I was angry, too,” and he gave you an extraordinarily soft and long kiss on your lips. But there was something he was wondering about so he let go of your mouth and looked quizzically at you.

“I told you to say my name when you were about to cum and you did but… did I… did I hear you right or did I just imagine it in my incredible excitement?”

Instead of an answer you freed yourself from his embrace and went past him to your dresser. You opened the drawer and took his scarf out of it, gently touching it. You weren't ready to give it back to him but it was his and you had no right to keep it. You turned around to face him and closed the distance between you two. When you stood closely opposite of him, you took your gaze from his scarf and looked him into his puppy eyes. You could barely stand the way he was looking at you.

“I'm so sorry that I lied and told you I hadn't found it. I should've given it back to you much earlier but I couldn't. I loved the feeling of having a piece of you in my home,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

“I knew you had it, I told you that I know. I knew that you lied,” and you both smiled at each other, unsure what to do now. You showed him the embroidered initials, your smile slowly fading. You were afraid to tell him that you knew who he was, how you found it out and that he could be very mad at you because you had browsed through his past.

“These initials don't stand for ‘Luke Larsson’, they stand for Loki Laufeyson and no, you didn't imagine it, in my ecstasy I screamed your real name,” you explained, your voice merely audible.

Loki swallowed thickly. You had found out who he was and he was sure that now the time had come to say goodbye to you because you would never want someone like him by your side. He lowered his head and took a deep breath before going on.

“How did you find out?”

“I did some research in a library. I told my best friend about you and she was sure she had seen you somewhere many years ago but couldn't remember any details concerning the Avengers. Just that you had something to do with them.”

“You talked with your friend about me?”

“Yes, because you became more to me than a client and I needed someone to talk about it. She's the only person who knows mostly everything about me and what I'm doing for a living. And so I told her about us. And through old newspaper articles, I found out that you are Loki and not Luke.”

“Yes, you're right. I'm Loki Laufeyson. An invader, a war criminal, a sinner and definitely not worthy of you. Want me to go?” He asked quietly and sadly, and raised his head again, looking at you with teary eyes. It broke your heart to see him like that.

“No, I want you to stay. And I ask you to help me. Not with money or anything like that. I need your words, your support and your soothing hugs and touches and yeah, I need your kisses, too,” you stated genuinely. “I can't anymore, Loki, I'm so tired,” and you felt him pulling you into his arms again. You hugged him back, desperately clutching his t-shirt, your face buried in his chest, his scarf still in your hand. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you on your forehead before he loosened his grip on you again.

“You know I'll never give up on you. Otherwise I won't be here,” he murmured with his deep velvety voice.

“I think, the time of revelation and truth has come,” you noticed and looked deep into his bright blue eyes.

“I think so too,” he answered, nodding approvingly.

You took him by his hand and led him back to the sofa to sit down again.

“Wait, let me clean you first and get you some fresh underwear. I want you to feel comfortable when we talk because I'm sure it's going to be a long conversation. And I know how much you like to be cleaned after having sex with me. And I think I stayed long enough in that pretty pussy,” he smiled and kissed you tenderly. You could just smile too and you adored him for his care. His kind of aftercare always surprised you anew and you truly enjoyed it. To make it more comfortable for both of you, you decided to take a shower together and you cleaned each other silently and with utter tenderness.

Refreshed, with still damp hair and Loki just dressed in his trousers and you in just a t-shirt and panties, you sat down on the sofa and looked intensely at each other. Now it was the time to tell each other's truths and you offered Loki your hand for a handshake.

“Hey, I'm y/n y/l/n. Nice to meet you,” and you gave him the loveliest and most genuine smile you could give.

“Hey, y/n. What a beautiful name you have. I'm Loki Laufeyson and it's a pleasure to meet you.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He loved your real name and it suited you so well. You answered with a cute smile and reddened cheeks. This man would never fail to make your skin tingle and your heartbeat quicken.

“Tell me your story, Loki. Tell me who you are,” you asked him, holding his hand in yours and waiting for him to begin.

He told you everything, about his heritage, about his raising in Asgard and how it all led to the invasion of New York City until the point where only two options were left to decide the fate of Earth and his life.

“I had a fight with my brother on the outside of Stark Tower and he asked me to stop and to fight with him and the Avengers together. And I did. I don't know why I listened to him, but I did and I made this decision within seconds. And instead of stabbing him and continuing the destruction and trying to get power over your world, I helped them to fight against the invasion and at least against Thanos. It cost me all of my mental and physical strength and skills but somehow I made it. It didn't prevent me from ending up in the dungeons of Asgard but it avoided lots of more death and destruction. And then I got a further chance of redemption. I got the chance to get out of the dungeons of Asgard to become a negotiator and an ambassador for international and intergalactical security because they all thought my silver tongue would be good for something.”

“Oh, your tongue is very good at French kissing,” you teased him and you both laughed lightly.

“Yeah, you might be right, sweets and not only French kissing but this is reserved for later and for you only,” he said softly, winked at you and squeezed your hand.

“The only condition was to live and work under the eyes of my brother and the Avengers with Tony Stark as my ‘parole officer’,” Loki continued. “I agreed and lived here under the radar and with a fake name for many many years and people forgot about me or left New York and new people settled down here. And after some years when other duties were waiting for my colleagues, they left NYC except for Tony and my brother. He had a love interest here, you know. I have to stay here until my debts are paid and that will be in three years. Then I'll be free to go wherever I want.

My brother or Tony just comes sporadically to see me and it's more like a visit then. I earned their trust so I was allowed to live in my own penthouse and in solitude, just as I wanted it…until I met you. Now I don't want to be alone anymore. I wished I could have you around me all the time.”

“Wow, that's quite a lot… it'll take me some time to process everything you just told me,” you said and sighed smilingly and deeply. “You made yourself the most hated man in your and my world but you took the chance of redemption. Be proud of yourself, Loki, this is a great achievement,” you praised him.

“Maybe it is,” he confirmed.

“You're wonderful, Loki. I got to know you a little bit and I can tell you, you're a good man and you deserve all the love someone can give to you. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, sweets.”

“You said the Avengers all left the city but I had dates with three of them. Did you send them to meet me because you knew they're nice so I don't have to meet strangers?” You questioned curiously. Loki shifted on his seat and swallowed dryly.

“You… you never met them, sweets.”

“Of course, I did,” you answered unbelievingly and chuckled.

“No, sweets you didn't… it was me you met.” Loki's gaze settled on your face. How would you react now?

“I think I don't quite understand. What do you mean by that?”

“One of my magical abilities is shape-shifting. I can change into the appearance of another person,” he explained carefully. You could just frown because you didn't understand anything of what he said.

“Please explain… Why were you doing this? Did you want to control me or test me?” If that was his intention it would be creepy.

“I did it because I wanted to see you and be together with you. It also was a possibility to protect you from other men.”

“Why didn't you meet me as yourself?”

“Honestly, I don't know. Maybe because I didn't have many events to attend and didn't require an escort, maybe because I didn't want to make it obvious how much I like you… the first time we met I told you I'm not interested in a relationship with you or anything else. I didn't know how to get out of that. I think I was afraid of losing face or scaring you off. You might have thought that I was stalking you,” he explained genuinely and you nodded understandingly.

“Were you also responsible for my cancelled appointments?” You weren't dumb, it fit into the whole thing and so it was an obvious question.

“Yes, guilty,” he admitted.

“How?” you wanted to know.

“I gave Rhea calls with a different voice and told her, the client which I imitated, wanted to meet an escort with a specific hair colour that was completely different to yours so she sent someone else instead of you...”

“ …and gave me a call that my appointment got cancelled,” you added.

“Yes, and two times it was too late and you had already sat at the bar at Vivian's. I intercepted your clients and told them you couldn't come for whatever reason, paid them and sent them away. I always made sure that you would get your money and I knew if a cancelled appointment isn't your fault, you still get your money. I'm sorry for that, sweets. Maybe it was selfish what I did but I just wanted to protect you and have you all for myself,”

Loki felt guilty and he knew he shouldn't have done this. It was stalker-y but he couldn't help himself, he was head over heels for you from the first time he met you at Vivian's Velvet. There were still some questions you needed answers to so you kept consulting him.

“When I met Steve and danced with him, I danced with you? Because it felt familiar somehow. It reminded me of our first dance at the business dinner.”

“You did.”

“When I had that fantastic conversation with Bruce and was invited to that extraordinary delicious dessert, it was you I talked to and it was you who spoiled me so wonderfully?“

“Yes. I know about your weakness for desserts so I couldn't resist ordering you one of the best desserts in Manhattan.” The gaze of his puppy eyes was killing you. He was adorable and you just wanted to straddle his lap and kiss the heck out of him again. But it had to wait.

“When I laughed with Scott the whole evening when I had so much fun and wondered over the magic tricks he showed me, it was you I laughed with. And Scott aka you asked me for a kiss… why? Was it a test because you knew I'd just kiss a man when I'm in love with him?”

“It wasn't a test…or maybe it was. I wanted so desperately to be kissed by you and at the same time, I was afraid you could fall in love with someone else. I just gave it a try. And then I had the confirmation that you definitely had not fallen in love with ‘Scott’ because you denied the kiss.” Loki's heart sank and pondered achingly in his chest. You would never forgive him for all his tricks and lies. He never wanted to lie to you or play games with you but for you and for love he'd do anything.

“So when we met the real Scott at the nightclub, he didn't pretend to not know me, he really didn't know me,” you concluded.

“Yes, that's right,” Loki answered, nodding approvingly. “I was just glad he stayed with the use of my fake name.”

“I think I should be extremely mad about you and all that… but I'm not. Somehow I feel flattered. Nobody else ever did something like this for me. You really just always wanted to protect me, didn't you?” Loki nodded sadly. He was so afraid that he would finally lose you though he had just found you.

“Are you still desperate for a kiss from me,” you asked him softly and leaned in to kiss him. You were just a few inches away from his tender lips.

“You still want to kiss me? You still want me after all of that? I'm a liar and a sinner, sweets. And I'm not sure if this will ever change,” he asked, unsure what you were going to answer now.

“It doesn't bother me what you did in the past and I'd never judge you. I always wanted a dark prince on his black war horse and it seems that wish might come true. You always tried to be there for me and you treated me with such care, attention, and tenderness and that's more than I deserve. If you're a sinner, I'm a sinner too. You know that I'm not a decent girl, and when you learn about my past you might not want me anymore,” you whispered, your lips almost brushing his.

“You're an angel, Sugar and you treated me so well, too. You're my purpose, my obsession and I want you, decent or not,” he mumbled and you pressed your lips gently on his, your hands trailing over his bare shoulders and chest, making him tremble. Your touches would never fail to make him shiver or to make him feel good and safe. He pulled you closer, caressing your head and your soft hair and kissed you so deeply that you nearly began to cry. When he broke the kiss, he looked quizzically at you again and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“You really took me off guard when I took you home with me and you wanted me to read to you from the book of Norse Myths and chose the part about me,” he laughed and you tilted your head to smile at him as well.

“Who could've known that I had been so close to the truth,” and you gave him a peck on the cheek.

“May I ask you something too?”

“Sure!” you said encouragingly.

“When you met Steve, Scott, Bruce aka me, Matt and the real Scott you told them your name is ‘Candy’. Even your coworkers didn't know who ‘Sugar’ is when I asked at Vivian's Velvet for you. What does it mean, sweets?” You took a deep breath and smiled slightly at him.

“When I met you for the first time at Vivian's, when we negotiated the conditions of our deal, I felt that you were special, different. And I liked you very much. Sympathy at first sight so to say. And after our conversation I decided to choose a name only for you, and only you call me like this.” Loki's eyes teared up. “You're incredible, sweets,” and he pulled you in for a further soft kiss.

“You're the only one I ever slept with, Loki. No other client ever touched me intimately. If I would've done it, it would've felt like I'd cheat on you,” you stated sincerely and tears were shimmering in your eyes. “Since I know you I only have eyes for you,” you murmured.

“I know. I feel the same way.” Loki answered with his soothing bassy tone, holding your hands in his and his thumbs grazed tenderly over the back of your hands. His eyes were looking directly into yours and you were locked in his gorgeous blue gaze.

“Tell me your story, y/n. Tell me who has hurt you so much, who's threatening and blackmailing you. Tell me the reason why you were forced to become an escort lady and have to earn that much money,” Loki asked you. You felt his sincere desire to get to know your truth.

You looked at him, swallowed, took a deep breath and then you began to tell him how it all started nearly six months ago.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️‍🩹🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

Taglist:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @gruftiela @anukulee @fandxmslxt69 @foxherder @depressedpolishgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @justjoanne242 @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lovingchoices14 @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Steph the Alter Nerd is reading Omid’s new book.

Following the live read:

I joined late so Steph was already reading. She was starting the Sophie section. Seriously, why pick on Sophie who just puts her head down and focuses on work? That’s strikes me as unnecessarily vile.

Omid apparently thinks Charles hasn’t modernized the monarchy. Dude is an environmental icon and we now have a blended family in BP. That may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but you can’t deny that it’s modern.

Apparently Omid writes pages and pages about Charles’ “leaky pen” incident. It’s just a pen, Omid. Omid thinks this means Charles may not be up to the job, lololol. I’m dying. Mind you, Omid worships Harry who stripped in Vegas, wore a Nazi uniform, and called his fellow soldiers names. But yes, the leaky pen is far more significant than all that, somehow.

Really boring part about government stuff. Charles negotiates and reaches compromises with the government and that’s apparently bad? Also, Charles didn’t know what to expect after he became King??? Lolololol.

Charles lost sympathy for the Harkles after the documentary. Well, duh. We all did, Omid. That documentary was a huge own goal.

He blames the Royal Family for the documentary’s melodrama? Seriously? Who was crying on Oprah? Who was crying in a rented Vancouver mansion with her head wrapped in a towel? Who dropped hot, salty tears on her Hermes blanket? That’s the person responsible for the melodrama.

Anne supposedly kicked them out of Frogmore. I suspect this is fanfiction, but I love it. I want it to be true. This is my headcanon now.

And I do thin fanfiction is the right term for this book. The BRF is super popular right now so the book thesis itself (that the BRF is in trouble) is pretty fantastical.

This book seems very, very boring. Omid seems to be desperately trying to argue that Charles’ first year went badly, but that’s just not reality. Omid used to be better at spinning than this.

Make the Royals Great Again? Uh, that was done in 2011. Everything we are seeing now was planted way back then, down to Kate’s leafy crown. There’s a general lack of both self-awareness and historical awareness in this book. Omid writes like someone who first became a “royal reporter” in 2016…which is exactly what he is. Too bad, because I do think there’s an interesting analysis that could be made regarding 2023 and it’s place in royal pr. That’s above Omid’s pay grade though.

Lol, Omid discusses UK politics and it’s every bit as much of a disaster as one would expect. Stick to gossip, Omid.

Ok, Steph’s hydrating, so let’s step back for a minute and recall what this book was supposed to be. This was to be “Finding Freedom 2.0,” a chronicle of the Harkle post-Megxit success story. The publishers clearly didn’t like that and they made Omid write a book about the family as a whole. That’s because there was no Harkle success story and the publisher didn’t think another Harkle book would sell. Unfortunately, Omid is a Harkle specialist. He can’t write a book about the family (let alone successfully argue for its imminent demise). He simply doesn’t know enough.

Back to Steph. We’re now in Harry’s military service? Er, why? We jumped from 2023 to 2016 and now to the Afghanistan War?

I agree with Steph that Omid’s trying to associate the royals with MAGA and I can’t even articulate how stupid that is. Completely different countries, completely different cultures, completely different iconography. Just doesn’t work.

Now we’re at the Coronation Concert? The royals are in trouble because Elton wasn’t at the concert! Lolololol. The Harkle bubble is out of this world. Basically, if their inner circle wasn’t centered (Oprah, Elton, Omid, etc…), it’s because of a MAGA conspiracy that will bring the royals down.

Something, something throne. Charles looked awkward again. Constitutional crisis!

I feel like I’m grading student briefs. There’s a way to argue this and there is evidence you can cite for this argument, but this isn’t it. You shouldn’t write pages and pages about a leaky pen and then minimize the bags of charity money as “perception.” You should start with the bags of charity money then use the leaky pen to bolster the “perception” argument.

Another disagreement with the government. Aargh! That should be lumped together with the other arguments with the government. Or it shouldn’t be mentioned at all. You’re arguing that Charles is and old-fashioned idiot who is not a good king, so why make him look like someone who is aware of current social issues and engaged with his government?

Racism. Finally! No wait, it’s boring.

Charles had an affair with Camilla. Lol, that’s not exactly news, love. The time jumping is driving me nuts.

Took a break to let the dog out and now we’re in Andrew’s interview. Of course we are.

Will exiled Andrew. I hope this is true. Wait, that’s the famous “power struggle”? Andrew??? I don’t think that’s a power struggle. That’s just Charles passing the buck.

Oh, lord. More Andrew. That’s it. I’m going to bed. I’ll tune back tomorrow.

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🌸 Sapphicnatural Statistics Spreadsheet 🌸

link for the spreadsheet here!

hello hello! in may 2024 i completed a university essay studying the subversive shipping conventions of sapphicnatural fanfic in the Sapphicnatural Collection over on AO3, with the thesis that sapphicnatural ships are often rarepairs with little-to-no grounds in canon (e.g: a guest character/one-off character who have never met on screen), conversely to standard fanfic practice. as part of this, i gathered some statistics about the fics in the collection, got slightly carried away with the scope, and made a giant spreadsheet with 6 sheets of various data. with the project over, i thought it would be nice to share it with tumblr in case anyone else finds it helpful or just interesting!! i'm likely going to post the essay that i wrote alongside this in the next few weeks, so give me a shout too if that's something you'd like to see

to pique your interest, the spreadsheet includes:

Notes on methodology and the vocabulary used

Statistics on the popularity of each sapphicnatural ship in the collection and the frequency of characters featured

Analysis on some significiant ship factors: whether the characters have met in canon and how frequently characters re-occured in the show

'Ship potency', a new framework i'm workshopping to quantify how 'viable/strong' a ship is, specifically when measuring the makeup of femslash ships against mlm ships

i've written up some of the key points i found and some extra analysis about them under the cut, so read more if you're interested! <3

Contextual note: there are 129 fanfics in the Sapphicnatural collection.

Top 5 most popular Sapphicnatural ships:

donna/jody (10 fics)

anna/mary (7 fics)

jo/cassie (6 fics)

anna/ruby (5 fics)

kaia/claire (4 fics)

21 unique ships have 3 fics per ship. 24 unique ships have 2 fics per ship, and 52 unique ships have 1 fic per ship. So, only a quarter (25.3% of ships) have more than 3 fics written about them.

Rarepairs (and thus multishipping) are much more frequent in Sapphicnatural fanfiction than across most fandom fanfic collections which often centre around a specific ship

Have the characters met in canon?

Only 34.2% of ships involve two or more characters who have met on-screen in the show, with 59.6% of ships featuring two or more characters who have never met

4 out of the 5 top ships are between characters who met in the show's canon

BUT the most common dynamic is between two characters who could potentially meet in canon (are alive through the same seasons/at the same location (hell/heaven) at the same time) but who never meet in the show

This idea of 'canon potential' is the most exciting space for a lot of sapphicnatural writers, where finding gaps in the existing narrative and placing two similar women together to explore what their relationship could look often seems to be more inviting than those established on-screen

What is the spread of side/guest/one-off characters in ships?

A third (32.9%) of ships are made-up side/guest character

None of the characters featured are main characters (as none of the women spn characters can be realistically classed as 'main characters' lolol)

17 ships feature at least one one-off character, with 3 being one-off/one-off

Sapphicnatural fanfiction has a unique appreciation for reinforcing attention to minor characters, often as part of a feminist agenda to restore their agency

How frequently are individual characters featured?

Jo Harvelle is the most popular character in the sapphicnatural collection, involved in 15 unique ships across 34 fics. So, over a quarter (26.4%) of the fanfics in the collection feature Jo

Author's note: honestly this could be my individual impact on the collection as a jogirl oops

Mary Winchester is involved in 14 unique ships across 25 ships, so both Jo and Mary are significantly multi-shipped. Mary features twice across the top 5 ships

Sapphicnatural writers often write in service of a particular character rather than a ship - ie. exploring Jo's sapphic identity is more important than who her relationship is with

Charlie, Anna, Ruby, Claire, and Bela are the other characters involved in more than 10 fics each across the collection

Ship potency:

I explain this concept more on the sheet itself, but I essentially assign numerical values to whether a ship is (possible in) canon or not, how frequently characters re-occur in the show, and how popular a ship is respective to the fandom (as sapphicnatural is small, donna/jody is popular with 10 fics, for example)

This is to gain a measure of how 'strong' a ship is, assuming that a standard mlm ship will rank highly in most of these criteria (control variable of destiel ranks 29.5/30, whereas the average potency sum for a sapphicnatural ship is 11.8)

Across the top 5 ships, the average potency sum is 20.9

4/5 of the most popular sapphicnatural ships are in the top 5 for ship potency, with donna/jody, anna/mary, kaia/claire and anna/ruby having strong canon foundations and so high potency ratings.

jo/cassie is irregular as the third most popular ship because they only rank 14th for ship potency, as the pairing have not met on-screen in canon, and features a one-off character

Ships with higher potency sums do tend to be slightly more popular, but there isn't a clear pattern among any of the ships. I'd like to do some more work with this to fine-tune the system

Wordcount, kudos, and hits:

Average wordcount of a fic is 3,511 words. This fits with my other working theory (links to my post about my history essay on women's fiction through the feminist waves) that sapphicnatural writers utilise short stories and one-shots to most succesfully explore sapphic identities

Average kudos is 48, with a median of 13

Average hits is 353, with a median of 122

So: sapphicnatural fanfics receive a fairly low level of interaction, especially when compared to the mlm ships in the Supernatural fandom (destiel, etc). This is in-line with most fandoms and femslash as a whole - a small, dedicated community are reading and writing sapphicnatural

I didn't explore much here, but it would be interesting to go into further depth anout how many fics in the collection are written by different authors, etc

and that's it from me! if you've made it down here, you're an absolute gem and thank you for sticking with me! hope you foundd it as interesting to read through as i did to write up - and that you give the spreadsheet a nosey too if you fancy <3

[kaifsaifi009897]

Our top class Professional thesis  writing services in Noida can help just not for spare student's time but also help them for their bright future. Our experts in Noida are able to help in each and every aspect of Complete thesis.

[whatcha-reading-today]

Fanfic spotlight: Intern the Sixth | apocalypticTaco

This is so fucking funny and such a good time--especially if you're waiting for Alecto... I am having the best time reading this story because I love Camilla and Pal (who doesn't, though?) and all of the grief Gideon dumps on Harrow. It's a great time, super fun in its writing style--love the epistolary nature.

See the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46868482/chapters/118058461

Fandom: The Locked Tomb Series

Main characters: Camilla Hect, Palamedes Sextus, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav

Author's description:

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES.

*Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page.

Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies.

No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you.

Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden

and

Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN:

FORMALLY REJECTED.

Rating: T

Wordcount: 41,041

Complete: No

[themathomhouse]

I haven't seen this posted about here but it's going round Twitter and tiktok, and I'm so beyond angry I can't let it go.

The UK imprint of Simon and Schuster have announced a history of Gaza is forthcoming from writer and academic Dr Anne Irfan. She's a professor at UCL specialising in Palestinian refugees and their treatment under the UNRWA. She's done extensive work and volunteering in refugee camps, advocates for Palestinians in the UK directly to government, works with a number of projects including in asylum applications, and writes articles both in academic journals and in newspapers about Palestine. Whilst studying for her thesis, she was denied entry into Palestine by Israel.

Sounds like a highly qualified person to write a history of Gaza, right?

WRONG!

According to activists on social media - all of whom have comparable work backgrounds and experience I'm sure - it's completely unacceptable for her to write this book!!! Some of which is due to her being a white woman (we'll get to that), and some is due to her husband being a soldier in the IDF and clapping for genocide (we'll get to that too).

The vitriol and backlash has been awful, and I haven't seen many takedowns so under the cut I will dissect the issues here.

1) she's not Palestinian.

This one seems to be true, and I do think that it's important that we allow people from a region to tell their own stories. This isn't the worst criticism, however given the other problems people have I think it's being brought up disengenuously.

She is an expert though, and I am deeply concerned about this progression to an idea that we should only learn about or discuss our own cultures. Palestinian voices not being elevated is a systemic issue, not the fault of one woman who we can at least say possesses the requisite expertise to write a history book.

She's actually already written one book - Refuge and Resistance: Palestinians and the international refugee system.

Here's a list of recent news articles she's written.

2) she's white.

This one I can't verify. There are claims from people purporting to be former students of hers who say she's Jordanian and has family in Palestine. Certainly her surname is Arabic and she's listed as being fluent in Arabic on her academic profiles, so I'm not willing to assume from the single photograph I've seen that she's white.

We have also seen from the rise in antisemitism recently that whiteness is entirely conditional, and I think in this case it's being thrust upon her to justify saying she has no business writing a book. I think this is trying to get at systemic issues with publishing, but without any of the facts.

Source:

3) her husband is an IDF soldier.

Her partner (not husband as far as I can tell) tweeted out the book announcement. He's a fucking marketing data guy who works for Twitter. He's not in the IDF. He's just Israeli and so probably did national service, but that's an assumption as he lives in London.

Source:

I can't add his LinkedIn or other profiles as they've all been deleted, likely due to this shit. This will have to do.

4) he supports genocide.

No.

He had a take that I don't personally agree with - saying Israel shouldn't agree to a ceasefire until the hostages have been returned - but that is an extremely far cry from any kind of support for genocide. His Twitter has been deleted so I've only seen screenshots, possibly someone made this claim but failed to procure the correct evidence; but that seems extremely unlikely.

Even the original person who tweeted about this has tried to walk it back (not the husband part but some of the other stuff).

There were no receipts by the way, possibly due to a change of heart.

Babe you called it coloniser apologia and attacked her personally as well as her partner, you're kind of the one who made it personal. Feel bad all you want but this is just you being defensive.

What now?

If you are going to make claims about someone supporting genocide or any of this shit, be really fucking sure before you throw a Molotov cocktail into the dumpster fire of this discourse. The publisher, an unrelated book news website, her editor (who's made her account private after being @ed in the comments), and she and her partner (both deleted Twitter) have been inundated with tweets and videos on tiktok yelling about it - most of which has been at best unhelpful, but comes from a place of xenophobia and an entirely misapplied desire to crusade for justice - and I'm being generous calling it that.

Has this helped? Has it? Did posting her university email and calling for people to call her a fascist in her work inbox manifest some Palestinian writers? Has tweeting shit like this helped?

Getting rid of academia is definitely A Good Take and not the step authoritarians take.

I've personally written to the publisher to express my sadness at this whole thing, agreeing that Palestinian voices are extremely important to uplift but also saying that Dr Irfan is clearly more than qualified to write this book. I admire all of the work she has already done spending more than a decade working with Palestinian refugees, and I hope very much that everyone involved is doing okay.

I don't know what else to do. All I can do is once again say that people need to really, properly fact-check before you post. This woman is actually doing the activism. She's an historian, yes; but also does work directly in camps and with the preservation of archives. Her crime seems to me to be that her partner is Israeli, and if that's where we're at then I don't even want to know where we're going.

[mrhaitch]

hi mr.haitch!

as someone who's interested in academia, do you think you can speak a bit about your experiences and journey? it's something i've had my eye on for a bit but honestly don't even know where to begin and idk if i'm just having a mini life crisis because i'm feeling unfulfilled in my current field.

I think I've spoken about this before, but I'll do it again. Please note that I am currently not in academia at present, although I do have plans to return. Currently I'm teaching functional skills in English and maths to kids in their late teens (many of them with severe emotional, behavioural, or learning disorders) so this will be more of a retrospective.

(Be warned, it's long)

Let's get one thing very clear: I was a bad student and my road into academia is and remains crooked. I had bad grades in highschool, an appalling attendance record, and spent a great deal of highschool in detention. It is a miracle that I finished highschool, and a further miracle that I was accepted by a college, and fluked through my A-levels.

I never paid attention in class unless it was something I cared about. Homework was a mythical concept, I never participated, rarely engaged, and generally treated school with disdain.

And I didn't get better until I was in my twenties.

Some of it was anxiety, a lot of it was arrogance.

So fast forward through my undergrad years where I oscillated wildly between workaholic frenzy (political philosophy, existentialism, philosophy of religion) to staunch absenteeism (philosophy of language, socratic philosophy). In my final year things kind of clicked, I knuckled down, got into a few fights with my lecturers, forced my grades up, and came out with a good enough grade to get onto a masters course.

This was largely in thanks to my writing, which I'd become increasingly dedicated to, completing and submitting my first (and thankfully unpublished novel) in the process. During my master's I revelled in the greater degree of independence, how I could direct and engage with the material in my own way, and how it connected with my passions (creative writing). I still had an arrogant moment, failed to prepare for an assignment and failed it. The failure capped my overall grade at a pass which sank any hope for a scholarship.

Dejected and pissed off, I then took the first job that came my way and gave up on academia. I languished in the service industry for four years and thought I'd amount to nothing more. Some political nonsense happened towards the end, I pushed back against the wrong people who promptly tried to fire me under false (and illegal) pretenses.

Haitch pushed me to look into doing my PHD again. I applied, teaching out to one of my old MA teachers to be my supervisor and he accepted with far more enthusiasm than I could've hoped for. I got a loan from the government and vowed to throw myself at my PHD as hard as I could, and I did.

From 2019 until early 2023, I worked five days a week (plus some time in the weekends) on my thesis and my writing. 8-5 every day with my nose in a book, or plugging away at a manuscript, or drafting papers. I lived and breathed it every second. I kept a journal where I pushed myself to work harder and harder to achieve what I felt was my dream. During that time I was determined to come out with my experience and qualifications than I could possibly need for an entry position. I shadowed my colleagues when they taught classes, exchanged emails with academics I admired, published more short fiction.

Brick by brick I built a portfolio and a modest reputation. Then I was invited to speak at a prestigious convention in the UK. I met legendary literary agents, famous authors, hung out with people I admired, and had a chance to read some of my work to an audience and discuss its themes.

I taught for two years, while at the same time working two other contracts for various outreach bodies teaching and supporting kids from deprived or disadvantaged backgrounds.

And I still can't get a permanent position.

I've been shortlisted once or twice, and knocked back at the first hurdle a whole bunch.

Academic positions are like gold dust scattered down the back of a unicorn as it leaps over a double rainbow. It is hard to get a job teaching and researching at a university, especially in the humanities. It is endless rejection with minimal feedback, banging your head against a brick wall over and over wondering if you felt it move or if you've just softened your skull.

It's hard, very hard, and takes a lot of commitment and a lot of sacrifice, with zero guarantee you'll get anyway.

But you do it because you can't imagine yourself doing anything else.

The eagle eyed amongst you will recognise this as the same conclusion I reached about writing, and they're right. It's the same. Often thankless, frequently difficult. A feeling of toiling alone in the dark, waiting for someone, anyone to peer into the well you fell down.

But as hard as it is, if that's the path you've chosen, a part of you doesn't care. You do it anyway. You do it in spite of what it costs you, and the little it gives back.

At least, that's how I see it. Thank you for attending my rambling, somewhat doom-laden, TED talk.

[dissvicious]

Ok ok I was wondering. What are the love languages of your ships? Redbomb or the band polycule. I feel like Osha love language is physical contact but I really can't see what it could be for those uglies messes called Trafalgar D Water Law and Buggy The Star Clown.

Love your work! ♥

Oooook now that's something I was starved to think about for a long time SO thank you so much (and thank you for loving my work!!! I'm glad that my completely delusional manic attacks aren't totally useless)

SO. FIRST. Easy one : Redbomb.

Let's evacuate the joke already their principal love language is throwing insults to each other and arguing and then fuck and repeating the cycle.

BUT more deeply : Buggy love language is mostly acts of service & gifts. It's kinda surprising at first because he obviously do it all over the top. AND he's pretty bad at it. Like, when Red get really sick, he spent hours in the kitchen making her what he thinks is the most comforting food ever. But you know, Blaze cooking skills were inherited from him, so she end with a plate full of Cheerios, smashed potatoes, cheddar and knackies (wait. Are knacki a thing outer UE?? those are really bad quality industrial sausages for the record), and her beloved husband looking at her all proud like "♥ 😁 I made that!!". And he spoils his kids with really outrageously expensive gifts. (Skye abuses it a little sometime)

Red' love language is mostly words of affirmation! Acts of service too but unlike buggy she's skilled with it. Her major flaw with that would be that she's offering acts of services even when people she loves don't act for them. Mommy style you know ? Wipping something on Rory's cheek with her thumb in front of his very first boyfriend.

For the record : Rory love language is he don't have any because he hates everyone act of services, Skye's is offering gifts & quality time, Blaze's is physical touch! (which can be dangerous with his devil fruit powers)

NOW. BRACE YOURSELF BECAUSE THIS IS GONNA BE HEAVY. The worst polycule of all time is entering the chat :

G.R.O.A.R LOVE LANGUAGE

I'll try to make it short because I could write a fucking THESIS about them SO. I think that they all have kinda different love languages according to which relationship we are talking about you see ? Like :

Osha x Law : Osha love language is physical touch (as in: big bear hugs that break his spine every time) and acts of service (as in: they make sure he eats, drink, and bring him to the vet like the injuried cat he is. Oh and they're also Law's biggest protector. Always saving his damsel in distress ass. On the other hand I FIRMLY believe that Law love language is quality times AND, for Osha, and only for Osha (and maybe a bit for Bepo - NOT A LAWBEPO ACCOUNT plz love language like for his best friend who is also a polar bear, which is pretty rad if you ask me, would a loser have a polar bear??) act of services. Quality time as in : he just loves spending lazy afternoon lying on their lap with a bong ranting about the stupidity of everyone around him. Act of services as in : one day Osha's bakery oven was broken and he replaced it as a surprise, without telling them anything. This kind of thing you see? They never really confessed and they totally deny they are dating but - come on. Guys. That's obvious.

Osha x Kidd : what's going on between them like - nobody knows. They are bad for each other. No. Kidd is bad for Osha. Are they dating. Are they like... friends? with benefits? but the benefit isn't sex??? Wtf. Anyways : their love language is physical touch and quality time, but not like for Osha x Law, more like: Shrek and fiona fighting in this clip

Law x Kidd : "AHAHAHA love language! as if we LOVED each other??? we fuck and that's all. Friend...ship? with this pathetic loser? URGH DON'T KIDDING ME" - anyway Law shows Kidd affection by quality time, and here quality time means "I'm not as unbearable as usual when I'm with you" while Kidd love language is... idk, bullying? physical touch but like slapping his back really hard and stuffing him in a locker? scruffing him and yelling "hey that's MY twink è_é I'm the only one allowed to hurt MY twink è_é"

KiddKiller *chief kiss* The only stable relationship in this polycule. Which means... a lot, look at them. ANYWAY - Kidd love language toward Killer is words of affirmations, like, it's canon, look at the anime. Look how he talks about him. "WHO DID THIS TO MY BUDDY?" aaaah *cry and sobb* (didn't get there in the anime yet but was totally spoiled this scene and I KNOW I'm gonna cry my ass out). But since Kidd has the vocabulary of a 14 y.o it's still complicated. "brooooo you're like peanut butter to my jam". AND of course Killer love languages are act of services (understand : following him everywhere and protecting his ass and being his only braincell).

LawKiller & OshaKiller aren't really a thing in this AU soooo we're gonna put them aside.

Also this post is already too long.

anyway THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK. ♥

[jockoppressor]

Things the JockOppressor will do for cash!

Proofreading services: $7.25/500 words, charged in increments of 500 words. Specifications: I will go through your text and correct spelling and grammar mistakes to match the expectations of Standard American English. Qualification: I have a BA in English, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and have 2.5 years experience tutoring English.

Academic and creative editing services: $30/500 words, charged in increments of 500 words. Specifications: I will do everything short of rewrite your work from scratch or breach my standards of academic ethics. Qualifications: I have a BA in English, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and have 2.5 years experience tutoring English.

Creative consultation services: $15/hour, charged in one hour increments. Specifications: I will offer feedback on your ideas for prose fiction, poetry, or digital narratives such as video games or podcasts. Qualifications: I have a BA in English, completed my honors thesis in creative writing, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and have 2.5 years experience tutoring English.

Tarot Readings: Up to 3 cards - $5. Up to 6 cards - $11. Up to 9 cards - $17.50. Up to 12 cards - $25. 13+ cards - ask for pricing. Specifications: Choose one of my four tarot decks and, at your discretion, suggest a spread. I will perform the reading and write a google doc of my interpretation.

Other ideas? If you have a need that's similar to anything listed here, you should DM me and ask. Help with a resume? Help designing a character for your tabletop campaign? If you pay me, I'll do it.

[ashilrak]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

I meant to do this the other day, but oop, here goes nothing:

HAUNT ME, THEN— (co-written with @mrthology)

Or, when Apollo cursed Kassandra before the Trojan War, it didn’t go as planned. Now, millennia later, Apollo and Kassandra are still stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Percy Jackson doesn’t know why people keep calling him Kassandra, or why he’s plagued by memories; all he knows is that he didn’t want to be a demigod.

There are a lot of reasons I have this as a favorite, but the biggest one is that this was a collaboration that has led to some big changes in my life and I couldn't be more grateful for it. It was also one I was just completely obsessed with while writing and took me through the emotional wringer, so bonus points.

The Murder Monologues (co-written with @theinevitablesense)

Stress came in many forms: work, pesky roommates, opinionated best friends, and attractive coworkers. Similarly, stress relief also came in many forms: knitting, music, cooking; Strangling people in their own homes. To each their own.

Bet you didn't think you'd see Hamilton on here lmao This is another collaboration and one that was genuinely so, so, so much fun to write. It is completely unlike anything else I've written, features a ship that doesn't really exist, and is such an off-the-wall AU. Like yes it's a Hamilton fic, but also. We played fast and loose with how criminal investigations work and talked about it like it was a comedy. We had a playlist that slapped featuring Razzle Dazzle from Chicago. If there's any fic of mine that could have its serial numbers filed off it's this one. Genuinely fun as shit and one I think about a lot.

See The Beast You Made Of Me

Percy Jackson thought he was done with prophecies, but the mist acting up means that it’s a revival or death. The Gods are calling for Rome to conquer and they want Percy to lead. Who better to shape their new Emperor than Apollo, already enlisted into Percy’s service for punishment? — Apollo grins down and leans in close enough that Percy can taste him. “I will make you greater than Augustus, more majestic than Hadrian, as clever as Marcus Aurelius," he says. Then with a flash of teeth, Apollo adds, "and as merciless as me.”

There are a lot of things with this fic I think I'd do differently now, and had I been the type to write in full and edit before posting I'm sure it'd look very different. But, I'm proud of this fic in the sense that it shows a lot of growth for me as a writer at this point. Obviously, I still have a lot of room to improve (and like to think I have since writing it), but it was a bit out of my comfort zone and I had a lot of fun pushing myself with it. Another one that's a bit off the wall, but sometimes that's the vibe.

Too Much To See Waiting In Front Of Me

Or: Paul takes Sally, Estelle, Percy, and Annabeth along on his family’s annual beach vacation

This is a simple one-shot, but it's one I love. I don't normally re-read my own writing, but this one I have. I don't know, it's cute and sweet and domestic and I like it.

Go On Shore (And It's Time For Us To Leave Her)

Or: Poseidon ventures west to see what's kept Ares so busy and finds a woman he can't get out of his head. Luckily for him, her time is for sale. Unluckily, Zeus is wary of any potential offspring and is sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Sally and Poseidon both know how this ends; they can't help but fall anyway.

This might be another surprising one but, this is one of those ideas I just got really into. It's a historical Posally AU. I don't do much with Posally but boy is it something I love and have thoughts and feelings about. One of my majors in undergrad was history and I wrote a thesis on the economic and social pressures of prostitution in the Early American Republic which is where this idea came from. It was fun to jump back into that and bring in little tidbits while also playing with the idea of the Gods sticking their noses into the revolution and following years.

I've only included summaries to give a better impression of tone/vibes. If any catch your interest, please please please read ships, rating, tags, and warnings closely 🩷