#crappy world building

[elprupneerg]

I just saw someone talk about “gentrification of a fetish” time to log off tumblr for a bit

[simblrofmgy]

in which I built the record store and the bar from season 2 of Loki.

[threshasaurus-writes]

Obscurest Fanfic Ever?

I did it, I wrote the first-ever fanfic for something! Wheeee, LOL. My fic is called Pistachio Passion, and it's for the new novel series (one book out so far) The Cross Brothers.

Some info for context should you read the fic (and have not read the book):

This is a fanfic for the Cross Brothers book series by C.J. York (which is very new, and actually only has the first book out, Legacies. It's a big chonker with over 400 pages, though!) The short, short version of who these characters are:

Garey:

Tall blond British fellow with glasses who loves to read and learned all he knows about the United States from watching way too much TV while living under house arrest for most of his life. Shared a body with Lubella when Lou first arrived, and they could communicate in each other's heads, Lou could take over control of Garey's body to go walk around, etc.

Garey is a huge foodie, catching up for lost time when he had to eat only what his house arrest situation (read: abusive family) served.

Lubella:

Thousands of years old terrifying inhuman creature (their true form involves horns, sharp teeth, tendrils of black smoke, a face like a skull, and glowing eyes.) Non-binary and goes by they/them. Terrifies demons on sight, which Lou eats when they get too hungry to resist. Lou is extremely powerful, but also has been asleep for a long time; they're learning about the modern world through Garey.

Lou gets their own body in the book, but they still have their powers, unlike here in my fic where they are limited to human abilities while human.

(I have drawn art of Lubella, which you can see here on my art blog. As you can see in the art post, I'm the editor of this novel, too. I'm fond of the characters!)

Rating: G Gen, Friendship, Potentially Pre-slash Tags: Book: Legacies: The Crosse Brothers. Human Lubella, Fluff and Humor, Ice Cream Parlors, Dubious Use Of Yorkshire Slang, Mockery Of Baskin Robbins, Nonbinary Character, Demons Taste Like Pistachio (Or The Other Way Around)

Check out the fic here on my AO3. ♥

[glamourstories]

River over Nothing

At the edge of one world leading into the next there is a bridge over nothing. As the land gives way to the sea the sea gives way to the edge. Endless streams of water fall over and dissapate into nothing. As you sail closer and peer over the edge you see sky below and above and if you look around you can see where the sky separates night from day.

Assuming you peer over in the day you see blue above you; clouds, light, a sun. Below; you look down and see blackness; nothing, but stars. Stars you'd never see looking up at night. These ones have always been hidden beneath the world, probably no less beautiful than the ones you may have become used to, but beautiful in the fact that few have ever seen them.

At this point it would be too late to turn around, to sail away, the current of the edge too strong to turn away from. This is the price most pay for hubris, to be consigned to sail over the edge and into nothing, all to get a glimpse at that forbidden beauty of stars unknown.

But supposedly some knew how to sail it, or where to sail. Somewhere along the edge exists a river, a bridge? Both perhaps. Where the edge gives way to nothing, you may find a stream; water flowing out over the nothing and ever onwards, no rock or earth or bed below it. The river at the edge has no banks so the water simply falls gently over the side, constantly being replaced as it evaporates, creating beautiful auroras below the river from light being split by the ephemeral mists into countless shades of green.

Though it has no base, the river seems deep enough and wide enough to sail on. An unseen wind catches sails, tugging you gently down the river. Some say there's another world at the end and that is enough of a call to adventure for some. No one really knows for sure, few have found it, fewer have sailed it and none have come back, because this river only flows one way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a small incredibly pretentious piece about an idea I had and subsequently drew. I’m not a good artist but I’m genuinely pretty proud of how it turned out, almost exactly as I imagined it.

[a-sleepy-ginger]

20/2/24

❆❅❆❅❆

Finally made opticians appointment

Got some college work done

Cooked good pasta

[3njoythesil3nce]

Plot holes/crappy writing in TUA 4

• Five, the guy who spent 45 years in an apocalypse and went back specifically to save his siblings from the same fate, ended up betraying Diego with such lightness and unjustified hatred and almost left the whole family because he got rejected by Lila?

• Five and Lila together just because Five needed a love interest when up until a season ago they had a sibling dynamic and Lila was madly in love with Diego

• In the end they decide to sacrifice themselves to destroy the Marigold but then they all reincarnate as Marigold flowers? and there is literally half a bottle of Marigold left intact in Diego's van?

•why in the hell was Lila shooting laser from her eyes? where did that power come from?

• Luther regains his powers and gets his monkey body back even though it has NOTHING to do with his powers since he morphed into that after Reggie saved his life by injecting him with a serum in season one

• in the end, all the past villains are shown together in the correct timeline when they all should be from completely different times

• Five feels like a COMPLETELY different person, the decharacterization was unreal.

• Klaus' new powers are shown for a second and then for the rest of the season he's basically reduced to a prostitute, ruining all the anticipation of seeing his true strength that has been building up since season 2 and nullifying all of his self improvement

• why was Jennifer in a fucking squid?

• in the end how are the children alive if their parents never existed?

• Ben and Jennifer were completely USELESS. and they were supposed to be key characters of the season

• Abigail's storyline made NO sense at all, she was supposed to be one of the most important characters in the show since the foreshadowing of her presence starts in season 1 and then she is reduced to two scenes in which she basically goes "fuck you Reggie for destroying the world, now I'll destroy it too as punishment" ???

• when Five meets the other Fives in the diner he doesn't show any symptoms of Paradox Psychosis

• Ray and Sloane are cut out of the show with two lines without explaining anything

• Diego dies without saying goodbye to his children

• Jean and Gene barely have a role in the whole season

• Allison sacrificed everything and everyone for Claire and their relationship is reduced to 3 scenes?

[quillyfied]

There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:

The Sympathetic White Woman.

In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.

Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.

(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)

For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.

Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.

Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.

Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.

It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.

Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.

(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)

[physalian]

10 Character Dynamics the World Needs More of

Me handing out character dynamics like free samples at the Mall Food Court: “Take one! Or two! You’ll love it!”

I don’t care how many times these tropes have been done – write more of them. Write all of them. Fill out your author bingo card one by one.

1. “No one gets to kill you but me, Old Friend”

This. Right here. Primo rival content that I *live* for. All the juicy history between two old frenemies, the character drama, the backstory, the titillating unknown of what drove these two to rival status, bitter enemies that respect the heck out of each other, to the point that hell hath no fury should one get knocked down without the other’s consent.

And, of course, the moment where it seems all bets are off, when the rival comes to save their ass only to hand it back to them at a later date. The angst! The shipping fodder! Need I say more?

2. A bigger, badder villain, and their minion

You, reader, spend countless hours hating the guts of the big bad villain. They’re evil, they’re vile, they’re sadistic, heartless, irredeemable bastards. They killed your favorite character for shock value. The big bad moustache-twirling antagonist… is actually not the biggest fish in the story.

Either they’re coerced into doing evil as a puppet of the Bigger Bad, a tragic villain in their own right, or they have some reservation, some line even they won’t cross, someone else’s boots they have to kiss, someone who features in their nightmares, as they feature in the heroes. They end their stories dispatched without a thought by the Bigger Bad, or redeem themselves in death by taking out their masters. It never gets old.

3. A leader and their lancer: besties

You know what’s better than leaders and lancers who have zero faith in each other and are constantly bickering about who should be in charge? Leaders and their right-hands who adore each other (platonically). They have each other’s backs, they know each other’s greatest strengths and weaknesses and are each other’s perfect covers.

They can communicate with looks and vague gestures alone, they compliment each other’s flaws and misgivings, build up the rest of the team when they’re down on their luck, and should misfortune strike either, they pull out all the stops and show off exactly why they’re not to be trifled with, so that even the villain is afraid.

4. “I don’t even know who you are”

Oh, but you will. This one twists the knife, robbing the avenging hero of the importance in this world they’re desperate to maintain. They are their own hero, the sun revolves around them… but not to this one asshat that ruined their life and doesn’t even remember doing it.

An entire identity built upon the finding, fighting, and overcoming of this wrongdoer, every other goal in life cast aside for this one impossibility. Either the villain toys with the hero to make them irate, or gets suckerpunched by some pissant fueled by vengeance and spite and divine purpose to dole justice where justice is due.

6. The jaded badass and their naive ward

If the last 8 years of media is anything to go by, we still love this trope, whether it’s in a galaxy far, far away or a fungi-zombie post-apocalypse, or in the twilight hours of an era of legendary mutants. The best part of this trope? You get two often contradictory character types in one body. The pessimist, PTSD-ridden master of old with no living friends left and at least one dead love interest *and* beneath all that, still lies an atrophied heart of gold just waiting to be nurtured and revived.

The naive ward gets a hard lesson in how crappy the world can be, but also in how there’s still some goodness left, if their guardian cares about them. The jaded badass in turn, learns how good the world can be, that there’s something still worth fighting for beyond the next bottom of a bottle.

6. The enemy of my enemy (is my friend)

Similar to the “old friends”, this trope is often a result of the minioned Big Bad realizing they don’t want to be evil anymore. Or, bitter old rivals, sides of a war that have been fighting for generations, ideological polar opposites, fundamental polar opposites all come together when: Some evil schmuck managed to scare them both.

Doesn’t matter on what shaky ground this temporary alliance is built, or how long it lasts, equally-competent badasses on both sides finally work together and compliment each other’s strengths, and compensate for their weaknesses, in a way their teammates never could.

7. The irredeemable villain’s only wholesome connection

Not so irredeemable anymore, now are they? This trope messes with your head, taking a character you know has done heinous acts of terror, but who cares unflinchingly, unabashedly, about one thing – either their lover, their pet, their relative, or their kid.

This exists independently of the heroes and is not the same as an “oops I guess I’m your father” reveal. I’m talking this character who everyone is convinced cares about nothing and no one but themselves and their ambition still has a place in their soul for something they want to protect, they want to be loved by, or that they must spare from their atrocities.

8. Platonic Heterosexual Friendships

These two have seen each other at their most vulnerable. They’ve shared fears, dreams, desires, know each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. They’ve seen each other exhausted, frazzled, dressed up, dressed down, bloodied and broken and like a raw, open nerve. These two would die for each other, they would live for each other, and yet.

They’re not in love with each other. They’re wholly comfortable in each other’s spaces without lust and desire mucking up the atmosphere. Neither is the one, neither wants to be the one. They remain together not for the bonds of romance, but for the bonds of friendship, and nothing could be stronger.

10. The Ace and their best friend, the Self-Proclaimed Slut

These two respect the f*ck out of each other. One never mocks the other for lacking desire and in return, they’re never mocked for their promiscuity. They’ll never walk in each other’s shoes, but they don’t need to, to understand that’s just how some people are. They’re each other’s safest spaces when the world doesn’t take either of them seriously.

They’re each other’s biggest defenders against the bullies, presumers, the holier-than-thous who think they have it all figured out. They’re the perfect compliment to give advice on everything from relationships to the best outfits for an outing because there’s *zero sexual tension* between them. Or, maybe, if the stars align, they’re something more.

10. The redeeming villain, and their staunchest skeptic

This villain has lost everything – their home, the respect of their people, their worth, their evil ambition, their identity, and has begun working their way up from rock bottom doing everything in their power to show the heroes that they’re serious. They make amends, they break their bones proving themselves, they’ve swayed everyone they’ve wronged in the hero camp.

Except one. The one character that was probably their first defender, and got burned for it. The character that was naive enough to think this villain could be saved, and was wrong. The character that won’t be duped again without some serious drama and soul-bearing between them.

Now tell me which ones I missed!

[almadelsur]

Glances. jj maybank. 18+ mdni

The flash of blonde hair outside the car window prompts the flashbacks to bulldoze into your mind, wrecking any and all thoughts you may have had and replacing them with the memory of him.

“jj” it comes out in short erratic gasps. The budding sensation of your orgasm building. Steadily growing inside of you until the only thing you can feel is your body vibrating in tandem to the jackrabbiting pace of his cock drilling you into the mattress.

You would have been embarrassed of the way your sopping pussy drools and squelches around him if you could hear anything besides the blood thumping in your ears. Your own heart pounding for the boy on top of you as he took you to heights you didn’t know you could reach. You vaguely hear him over your whines.

“Jesus fucking christ” he’s just as far gone as you are. “I-“ he groans cutting himself off and tries again “Fuck I-“. It’s not often jj maybank is left at a loss for words, but with the way your walls choke his cock, it’s hard for him to run that beautiful mouth of his.

“I’m gonna- oh fuck” you cry as your release washes over your body. Your eyes screw shut as you writhe and pulse around him. Almost as if rehearsed, he collapses on top of you, grunting into your neck and decorating the insides of your cunt with ropes of thick cum.

The two of you stay like that for a beat, and when you finally manage to peel your eyes open you find jj already staring at you. Still neither of you say anything, a moment shared between intense gazes and awe. Orgasmic intimacy.

“Wow” you breathe out, prompting a smile to light up his whole face.

A quiet “yeah..” is the only thing he can think to offer.

In a quick and gentle motion you grab his swollen lips “gimme these”.

He leans up and presses his lips against yours, it’s brief and tender - a sealed stamp solidifying the moment between you.

“Think I sent you into orbit for a minute there huh?” And with that he regains his wit. Your giggles shaking his body up and down from above you. “Alright cassanova, I think I left you pretty speechless too”

“Damn fuckin’ right you did. You’re incredible” your cheeks heat up at his comment as you bring your hand up to card through his hair, instantly reducing him to a placid puddle across your chest. “'m never gonna get enough of this” he sighs out. It's clear to both you that your intentions are those to say i love you. Neither of you needing to use the words to get the message across. You just knew.

“Baby” you snap your head sideways and instead of soft blonde locks, you’re met with a buzz cut and sharp hardened features. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, sorry yes” you’re evidently rattled but before rafe has a chance to comment, he slams down on his breaks, nearly colliding with the pogue in front of him.

“What the fuck?!” Rafe yells but as JJ crosses in front of the truck your eyes lock in a brief meeting of glances that seem to hold the weight of the world. The weight of a broken relationship and a plethora of emotional tradgedies that led you to this exact moment. Yet as quickly as it comes it dissipates once more with rafe swerving around him with a muttered “stupid fuckin pogue”

And with that he's left in the dust along with the memory of a love once shared.

A/N idk what this is honestly. I kinda hate it but I really wanna find my feet with writing again sooooo enjoy some crappy smut angst whilst i get used to this again.

[dixons-sunshine]

In SICKNESS and in health | Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Even before you and Daryl got married, he vowed that he would take care of you, no matter what—in sickness and in health. Now, when Daryl returns from a run, burning up, sniffling and coughing, it’s your turn to return the favour and take care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting and swearing, but other than that, fluff!

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Word count: 2.8k

A/n: Not me casually dropping a fic after more than a year of nothing lol. Sorry about that :`). I’m also sorry about the crappy writing you’re about to read. I’m extremely rusty from not writing in forever. Also, this is my first time writing for Daryl, so I hope I captured his character as accurately as possible.

Chopping up vegetables to add to the soup you were making, you could distinctly hear the unmistakable rumble of your husband’s motorcycle, making a small, relieved smile grace your features. A couple of people in Alexandria—including Rick and Daryl—had gone of on a run three days prior and you had been worried sick. It was snowing rather heavily, and when a blizzard passed through the day before, your worry had skyrocketed through the roof. You weren’t alone in your worry—Michonne had been worried to death, too—but all you could do was hope for the best. Thankfully, it seemed as if though everyone was okay.

You hummed quietly to yourself in the kitchen of the small two-story house you and Daryl occupied in Alexandria. After a harsh, intense period of fighting with not only the undead but the Saviours as well, it was nice to have some semblance of peace in the aftermath. It had been a grueling process to rebuild the remains of Alexandria from the ground up, but with the help from everyone in the community, as well as from people in other communities as well, Alexandria stood tall and proud once again. With all the houses rebuilt and with additional houses built as well, you and Daryl had opted to claim one of the smaller properties as your own, a sanctuary away from the bustling crowd of Alexandria after an exhausting day.

The rumbling of Daryl’s motorcycle became louder the closer he got to your shared living quarters. When he parked in the driveway, the rumble abruptly stopped. Turning your attention back to the task at hand while anxiously waiting for Daryl to walk through the front door, you chopped up the last of the vegetables and added it to the soup you were preparing—chicken noodle soup—and made sure to season it accordingly. It was a dish that you had been wanting to make for a while, especially with the cold weather that bestowed itself upon the world.

The front door opened with a faint creak, notifying you of Daryl’s arrival. After wiping your hands on a rag, you moved out of the kitchen and towards the living room where the front door was located. There, you found Daryl slowly shedding himself of his coat. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his eyes were shut. When he heard your footsteps, he opened his eyes and looked up at you, giving you a small, tired smile.

You returned the hug instantly, resting your head against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly. “You’re still up?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before moving towards you. He draped his coat over the back of one of the couches and moved towards you, embracing you in a loving hug. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, and you swore you could hear faint sniffling.

“M’sorry. We would’a gotten back a lot sooner, but the damn blizzard had us trapped. We had to camp out in one’a them houses on the road back."

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, your arms around him slightly tightening. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Daryl hummed and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, neither one of you breaking the hug just yet. The only sound that could be heard was from the fire crackling in the fireplace behind you. However, after a few seconds, you could hear a few faint sniffles coming from the archer. Frowning, you withdrew slightly, looking up at Daryl in concern.

“Dar... Are you okay?” you inquired softly, your tone perfectly voicing the concern you felt for your significant other.

“You don’t look fine,” you countered his previous statement after his coughing stopped, taking a tentative step forward. Your eyebrows were pulled together in worry.

“Yeah, m’fine. M’jus’ tired,” he said, trying to assure you. However, you weren’t buying it, and he knew it. “I swear, m’alright.”

Before you could voice your protest, Daryl quickly pulled away from the hug and stepped back. He brought his face to his elbow and erupted into a coughing fit, his chest heaving.

“Nah, m’fine. Jus’ got somethin’ in my throat, s’all," he replied firmly, trying his best to keep his face neutral. His attempts proved to be futile, however, when he sneezed into his elbow and the sneeze was shortly followed by another rampage of brutal coughs.

You walked up to your husband and took his hand in yours, prompting him to look at you. Raising one of your hands to his forehead, you weren’t completely surprised when you felt a scorching hotness beneath your palm. Daryl felt like a furnace, and you were a little surprised that you hadn’t realised it sooner. He had just come into the house after being out in the icy cold weather for three days, but instead of feeling cold, Daryl had felt warm—warmer than usual.

“Baby,” you whispered, raising your hands to gently cup his cheeks. Your frown deepened, your concern for your husband not fading. “You are not fine. You’re burning up.”

Daryl sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned into your soft touch, enjoying the coolness of your hands. “M’fine. Ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. I’ll live,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“Daryl,” you started, your tone stern but gentle, “you’re not fine. I can see that much. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower? I’ll be right up.”

Daryl opened his eyes and gave you a crooked smile. “I have a feelin’ that you ain’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Your feeling would be correct. Go on. I’ll join you in the room in a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl responded with a small smile, before withdrawing from your touch and turning to descend up the stairs to execute your instructions.

You turned around and headed to the kitchen. From upstairs, you could faintly hear the shower running, and you felt relieved that Daryl was heeding your advice and showering off the grime of the last few days. After rummaging through the cabinets, you finally found a bottle of Tylenol. You set it down on the counter and turned towards the cabinets again, and took a glass from one of the shelves. After filling it up with water, you walked over to the stove and stirred the soup, tasting it after a couple of minutes to ensure it was ready. After retrieving a bowl and a spoon, you filled the bowl up with the soup and placed the bowl on a tray, as well as the water and the bottle of Tylenol.

You carefully and slowly descended up the stairs to ensure that not a drop of soup was wasted. Successfully reaching the top with no complications, you turned towards your and Daryl’s shared room and pushed the door open. After putting the tray down on Daryl’s bedside table, you could hear the shower shut off and the distinct shuffling of Daryl getting dressed.

You sat on the bed and waited patiently for your husband to join you in your shared quarters. After a few minutes, Daryl finally came into the room, clad in a loose fitting shirt and flannel pants. Now that he was cleaned up, you could practically see how sick he really was. He looked pale and his eyebrows were scrunched together, signalling that he was, without a doubt, suffering from an intense migraine.

You got up from your seated position on the bed and walked over to him. He offered you a small, weak smile, and you returned the gesture. Taking his hands in yours, you slowly started tugging Daryl along with you to the bed. You gently pushed him to sit on the bed, and he complied, but not without protest.

“You’re doin’ too much for me. Ya don’t have to, y’know? I’ll be alright,” Daryl protested, laying his head back against the wooden headboard.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You’re always taking care of others, me most of all, so let me take care of you for a change.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath and sighed, but nevertheless, nodded slightly. He covered himself with the blankets and carefully watched you through half lidded eyes. His eyes widened slightly in delight when you lifted the bowl of soup from the tray and delicately placed it in his lap. You sat on the edge of the bed next to him and gave him an expectant look.

“Eat up. I didn’t make this for love and charity, you know,” you joked, bringing a hand up to brush Daryl’s wet tendrils back from his eyes, giving you a better view of the ocean coloured irises you loved to get lost in.

“What ‘bout you? Ain’t ya gonna eat, too?”

You chuckled quietly and looked lovingly at your husband. “Always taking care of me, huh?”

“Ain’t never gonna stop,” Daryl agreed instantly, looking at you with an intense gaze that portrayed more than words ever could.

“I’ll eat later,” you promised him, gently caressing the side of Daryl’s face before retracting your hand again. “I wanna take care of you first. Make sure you’re comfortable, fed and resting, then I’ll eat something.”

Daryl only stared at you for a few lingering moments, before reluctantly bringing a spoonful of the soup to his mouth. He hummed in approval after the first bite. “This shit’s good. Thanks.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. Standing up, you headed to the bathroom and grabbed a cloth. After wetting the fabric and wringing it of excess water, you walked back into the room and saw Daryl silently and dutifully devouring the soup. When you drew nearer, you were surprised to note that the bowl was nearly empty.

Daryl looked up at you and noted your surprised look. He gave you a sheepish smile and looked down, his face flushing. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Sorry.”

“That’s disgustin’,” Daryl drawled, scrunching his nose in a way that you found absolutely adorable.

After his statement, another series of coughs wracked through Daryl’s body. When he calmed down, you sat back down on the bed next to him. You leaned forward and gently placed the cloth over his forehead, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the archer.

“What are you apologising for? For enjoying my food?  Believe me, I’m glad you’re enjoying it and can actually stomach it. Usually when I get sick, anything that goes down comes back up in a matter of minutes.”

“I never said it was pleasant,” you laughed, taking the empty bowl from him and placing it back down on the tray. You substituted the bowl for the glass of water and handed it to him, as well as two pills that you took from the bottle.

“And this?” Daryl prompted whilst hesitantly accepting the pills from you.

“It’s Tylenol. It’ll help with that fever of yours,” you explained. You watched as Daryl popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed it down with huge gulps of water. When the glass was empty, you took it from him and placed it down on the tray. “I’ll talk to Siddiq tomorrow and see if he has anything for that cough of yours. Your voice has been sounding scratchy and I don’t want you to lose it completely.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. However, before he could voice his protest, you quickly cut him off. “No, none of that. I’m talking to Siddiq, and that’s final. I’m also seeing if Aaron would be up for taking your place on runs until you’re feeling okay again, and I better not be hearing any protest from you whatsoever on the matter, Dixon. I’m only letting you out of this house when I know for a fact that you’re not sick anymore.”

Daryl only shook his head. He attempted to keep his face neutral, but the faint smile on his face betrayed his true emotions. He sighed before moving his body to lay down, keeping the damp cloth over his forehead. He shut his eyes and covered it with his arm.

“Alright. If that’s Doctor Dixon’s orders,” Daryl whispered, his tone playful.

You laughed. “It is.”

You moved to stand up and grab the tray, but Daryl’s hand suddenly grabbing yours halted you in your tracks. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes now trained on you. He seemed hesitant to ask you something, and it put you on edge.

“You okay?” you asked, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He nodded. “Yeah, m’alright. S’jus’...” He inhaled deeply and averted his eyes, seemingly ashamed of himself for the question he was about to ask. “Would ya maybe stay with me? I mean, s’late anyway and ya need to sleep, too.”

The tray on the bedside table was instantly forgotten. You smiled gently and brought your husband’s hand up to your lips, pressing a feathery light kiss on his knuckles. “Of course I’ll stay with you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

You walked over to your side of the bed and laid down on the soft mattress. Daryl covered you with the blankets and then proceeded to peel the cloth from his forehead, carelessly tossing it to the side somewhere on the ground. The two of you silently laid side by side for a couple of moments until you lightly patted your chest.

“Come here. I’ll hold you.”

Daryl scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing, but complied, turning his body to lay his head down on your chest. You slotted your legs between his and slightly adjusted your body until you were comfortable. The archer wound his arms around your midsection and you brought your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to your chest.

“Comfortable?” you whispered softly, running one of your hands through his hair, softly scratching his scalp as you went.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, pressing his face deeper into your chest. He quietly sighed in content, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the soft scratching of his scalp slowly lulling him into slumber.

For the next few minutes, the both of you stayed there in a content silence. You continuously dragged your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, and your other hand was lightly tracing the lengths of his arm. The silence was only broken by Daryl when he slightly lifted his head to look at you, his eyes heavy with sleep, but filled with an undeniable love for you.

“I love ya,”;he whispered quietly, making your heart flutter and a loving smile grace your face.

It was quite uncommon for Daryl to utter those three words first. Not because he didn’t love you, but because he wasn’t good with expressing his emotions the way people normally would. Because of that, he showed his love to you through actions, and you were perfectly okay with being the one to say ‘I love you’ to him first most of the time. However, when he did express those three words to you verbally without you saying it first, it always made your heart swell with adoration and love.

You pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you more.”

That made Daryl scoff and bury his head into your chest again. “Nah, that ain’t possible at all.”

Choosing not to argue with your husband, you simply chuckled and resumed your previous activity of threading your fingers through his hair. Not long after, you saw Daryl’s breathing slow down and steady into a slow rhythm, notifying you of his slumbering state. You smiled at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. You settled back onto the bed and rested your chin on top of Daryl’s head, making yourself more comfortable. The soft sounds of Daryl’s breathing beckoned you into slumber as well, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to succumb to the comforting confines of sleep.

Goodnight, love, you thought, finally falling asleep, Daryl tight in your embrace with no intention from you of letting him go.

[hotchshands]

Somebody's Watching Me | Chapter 2

Masterlist| Taglist | Other Chapters

Summary: The BAU continues their investigation into your stalker. As the unsub grows bolder, they grow closer to uncovering your identity behind all the grainy images and videos the unsub left behind. You are completely obvious to the fact that someone is watching you.

Word Count: 1k

Contains: slow burn, semi-nudity, and possible plot holes cause idk where this is going anymore

A/N: Be sure to check out my other series, Teacher’s Pet!

The team went home to rest before yet another busy day, but Hotch couldn't leave just yet. Gracia hasn't gotten a single hit on this woman, and the team was nowhere close to building a profile. Hotch knew that the faster they got through all the images, the faster they could build a solid profile. So, he sat in the screening room alone, drinking crappy coffee, hoping to see something helpful.

He eventually got bored of whatever video he was on and decided to skip to the more recent videos the unsub posted. He clicks on a video dated October 12. The angle was the same as before. The camera pointed at her window, but this time, it was different. Hotch could see you or at least your figure getting dressed. He froze, pressing pause on the video.

The idea of watching a stranger undress felt wrong and perverted. A part of him was unsurprised by the video, knowing that this kind of thing is what stalkers live for, but it felt wrong. Nevertheless, Hotch had to watch it in order to profile both you and this unsub. He resumes the video and continues watching.

You lift your shirt up before turning slightly away from the window and peeling it off. Hotch peered at your hair, falling against your bare back. The light from the window shined on you and your brown hair. You were comfortable enough to have your curtains pulled back as you undressed but not comfortable enough to put on a show. Hotch couldn't understand that, but then again, he knew all about the world's most twisted and sick people. This unsub was one of them.

After watching that, Hotch decided to call it a night, leaving the screening room and heading for the elevator.

You were rushing to get ready for work when you felt off. Peeling off your pajamas to get into appropriate work attire, you felt a shiver run up your spine. Is someone watching me? Growing up in a small neighborhood, you had no problem undressing in front of a window; you did it all the time. However, as you removed your shirt, you couldn't help but feel like this time was different.

You brushed it off and chalked it up to paranoia, but truthfully, this isn't the first time you suspected something awry. For the past few months, every time you stood in front of a window, you felt it as if it were Big Brother, but you knew that was not the case. Somebody was, in fact, watching you, but you were clueless.

The next day, the team gathers bright and early to investigate this unsub. Hotch got their first, sorting through and organizing all the photos the Cyber Alert Team left. Once the entire team was there and ready to work, Hotch began, "Thank you all for being here on time. Let's get to work. What do we know so far?"

"Well, we know this is his first and only victim," Emily said.

"We also know that stalkers are deeply insecure, and this particular stalker is likely to have a personal connection to our Jane Doe," JJ said.

"Don't forget those stalkers snap when anything gets between them and their victims. This guy's no different," Rossi added.

"So this unsub's a ticking timebomb. The closer we get to finding out who this chick is, the more danger she's in," Morgan said.

"We know how they met. In the unsub's correspondence, he said they work together but never mentions it again. After that, he's more careful not to expose any details about her," Spencer said.

"Why keep her identity a secret? From his vantage point, he could easily get a clean shot of her face. Why doesn't he?" Hotch poses to the team.

"Could it be a counter-measure?" JJ responds.

The team grows silent, taking in all the clues and piecing them together to solve the puzzle. During this time, Hotch remembers what he saw in one of the videos last night. He couldn't get that image of you undressing out of his head, and he didn't know if he should tell the team or keep it to himself. He knew it was a significant detail but was embarrassed to share it. He just didn't know why.

Rossi could see the wheels turning in Hotch's head. "Something we should know, Aaron?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head and told the team about what he saw. "Last night, I watched some more of the tapes, and I think you should see them. Gracia, can you-"

"Already on it!" Gracia works her magic and pulls up the videos on her computer.

"It should be dated October 12," Hotch said.

Gracia finds the video and turns her computer to show the team. The team watches as you undress, unaware of being watched. After you change, the video cuts to you leaving your apartment. Hotch didn't see that before...

"This guy's getting bolder, that's for sure," Morgan says.

"Gracia, show us the latest upload. Would yuh? I wanna see just how bold he's gotten," Rossi said.

Upon his command, Gracia pulls up the latest video, dated April 18, months later. The video is drastically different from the others. The footage was taken from inside rather than outside.

"So now's his in her house? Why the shift?" Emily ponders.

Hotch wasn't sure why he hadn't thought to look at the latest video or why the thought of some creep sneaking into your house and setting up a camera made his blood boil. He was off his game and determined to get his head straight. He pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, "Ok, we need to rethink strategy. Something caused him to shift the camera. He needed to get closer to the victim, but why? That's what we need to find out."

The team nodded in agreement, having started to see a shift in their boss. He was usually so level-headed during every case, but this one was different. The BAU rarely investigates stalkers; on those rare occasions, those cases go over smoothly. So far, this particular case has been all sorts of special.

Taglist: @uselessnewt @lalaehlaa @de-duchess @targaryenswhxre @mrs-ssa-hotch @reidfile

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about How to Pay off Debt

Understanding debt:

Let’s End This Damaging Misconception About Credit Cards

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

Dafuq Is Interest? And How Does It Work for the Forces of Darkness?

Investing Deathmatch: Paying off Debt vs. Investing in the Stock Market

How to Build Good Credit Without Going Into Debt

Dafuq Is a Down Payment? And Why Do You Need One to Buy Stuff?

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Paying off debt:

Kill Your Debt Faster with the Death by a Thousand Cuts Technique

Share My Horror: The World’s Worst Debt Visualization

The Best Way To Pay off Credit Card Debt: From the Snowball To the Avalanche

The Debt-Killing Power of Rounding up Bills

A Dungeonmaster’s Guide to Defeating Debt

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke 

Ask the Bitches Pandemic Lightning Round: “What Do I Do If I Can’t Pay My Bills?” 

Slay Your Financial Vampires

Season 4, Episode 3: “My credit card debt is slowly crushing me. Is there any escape from this horrible cycle?” 

Case Study: Held Back by Past Financial Mistakes, Fighting Bad Credit and $90K in Debt 

Student loan debt:

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

Ask the Bitches: “The Government Put Student Loans in Forbearance. Can I Stop Paying—or Is It a Trap?”

How to Pay for College without Selling Your Soul to the Devil

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

Season 4, Episode 4: “I’m $100K in Student Loan Debt and I Think It Should Be Forgiven. Does This Make Me an Entitled Asshole?” 

The 2022 Student Loan Forgiveness FAQ You’ve Been Waiting For

2023 Student Loan Forgiveness Update: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly 

Our Final Word on Student Loan Forgiveness 

Avoiding debt:

Ask Not How Much You Should Save, Ask How Much You Should Spend 

How to Make Any Financial Decision, No Matter How Tough, with Maximum Swag

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Two-Ring Circus 

Status Symbols Are Pointless and Dumb 

Advice I Wish My Parents Gave Me When I Was 16 

On Emergency Fund Remorse… and Bacon Emergencies

Should You Increase Your Salary or Decrease Your Spending? 

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

The Only Advice You’ll Ever Need for a Cheap-Ass Wedding 

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It 

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

Buy Now Pay Later Apps: That Old Predatory Lending by a Crappy New Name 

Credit Card Companies HATE Her! Stay Out of Credit Card Debt With This One Weird Trick 

Ask the Bitches: Should I Get a Loan Even Though I Can Afford To Pay Cash? 

The Bitches vs. debt:

I Paid off My Student Loans Ahead of Schedule. Here’s How.

I Paid off My Student Loans. Now What?

Hurricane Debt Weakens to Tropical Storm Debt, but Experts Warn It’s Still Debt

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years

Case Study: Swimming Upstream against Unemployment, Exhaustion, and $2,750 a Month in Unproductive Spending 

That’s all for now! We try to update these masterposts periodically, so check back for more in… a couple… months??? Maybe????

[adnauseum11]

Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse. 

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry. 

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features. 

“Good to know you want me around, darling.” 

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown. 

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat. 

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards. 

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat. 

“Fuckin’ hell love” 

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body. 

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face. 

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm. 

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling. 

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left. 

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh. 

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

[octuscle]

My professor gave me a zero on my essay for no reason! I did the work! When I asked him why he said that it was because I was a jock and jocks always fail his class. It’s time for payback!

Seriously, what do you expect from a professor of German studies named Dr. Kurt-Heinrich Schulte Obermeier? He's a Westphalian lateral thinker with Prussian discipline oozing from his every pore. Immaculate hairstyle, perfectly fitting suits, first-class pressed shirts. Handkerchief and tie always coordinated with great taste. A luminary in matters of German post-war literature. And an asshole as a professor.

I am a natural scientist. Sort of. According to my self-image as a support staff member. I'm of the opinion that the world isn't a worse place with one less Germanist in it. If he spends his time on meaningful things instead of Günther Grass.

When he wakes up the next morning, he feels fresh and rested. Dr. Kurt Obermeier is one of the youngest research assistants to have ever worked at your university. He is cool. He knows he's clever. But he's a good tutor and even if he's always dressed a bit stuffy, you can have fun with him. Rather atypical for a German studies student, you can even meet him in the sports bar in the evening. When the German soccer league is on.

Curt Meier is a WASP like no other. Although half of him is not Anglo-Saxon but German. That's why he decided to study business administration and German studies. Out of pure interest. He doesn't need to earn any money anyway, he lives off his parents' money. And he lives off the occasional modeling job. Curt is New England incarnate. Cultured, educated. And in his beauty, he is unfortunately also a little boring. But what do you expect from someone who plays cricket?

Yo, dude! Check it out, this Curtis Meyers guy, man, he's like, totally not fitting in at the uni, you know? Button-down shirts? Rugby shirts? That ain't his vibe at all. He's all about football jerseys, bro. But honestly, he only throws those on when he has to. In German studies? Forget about it. The professor thinks he's gotta dress fancy? Ridiculous, man! If they kicked him out for that, he'd be damn happy. He only picked this damn major 'cause he thought it was gonna be all about Thor and Wotan and all those badass demigods, you feel me? They're awesome. But Rilke and Heine? Hell no. And their language, man! Who the hell came up with that? Must've had a sunstroke that day, dude. Oh, and what's up with the sun? Time to link up with the boys and toss some balls on the field...

Mike Curtis hated university, man. Those snobby dudes there were just dumbasses and annoying as hell. Too dumb to take out the trash properly. Too lazy to clean up their own mess. Keeping the campus clean was a crappy job. He especially hated that German Studies building. Full of stuck-up know-it-alls. All a bunch of weaklings. Supposedly Mike had some German great-grandfather or something. What a load of crap! What kind of dumbass has two last names? Anyway, Mike supposedly got his German looks from him. Also bullshit! That was all sweat and hard work in the gym. Mike didn't inherit nothing. He earned everything he got. And he was damn proud of it!

Mike is not a jock in the strict sense of the word. But certainly more than Professor Dr. Schulte Obermeier. I don't think you have anything more to fear from him, Bro. As long as you separate the garbage properly.

[aroaceleovaldez]

I HAVE BEEN REMINDED OF SOMETHING i think i've made a post about it before but maybe it's just sitting in my drafts. idk, whatever, I will ramble again. Said thing that reminded me was a tiktok by madison_murrah about how the PJO TV show doesn't get the balance between mundanity and magical correct for pjo and I want to expand on that cause while a.) it totally is a problem in the show and i take issue with it, b.) it is also a problem in later books and i ALSO take issue with that too and i would like to elaborate on it

this got long so ramble of the day below the cut:

so the thing is that PJO is actually pretty unique in it's approach to hidden world modern fantasy. like, hidden world modern fantasy is a decently established genre with a ton of examples, but there's a reason why PJO stands out so much, and that's because technically it's NOT "hidden world." There is very intentionally no distinction between the mundane world and the mythological, at least in first series. They 100% overlap. And you do not necessarily need to be "special" to see the "mythological world-" some mortals are totally naturally clear-sighted, a lot of kids are clear-sighted, and it's like 50/50 for if mortals can become clear-sighted. In fact, most demigods aren't immune to the effects of the Mist, all that really matters is if you're actually thinking about being able to see through it. And there's a reason for that!

In general, this format of the "hidden world" modern fantasy serves two purposes: One, as the series is meant to introduce people to Greek mythology and explain why it is relevant and how it can be relatable in modern contexts, it intentionally juxtaposes myths against modern concepts: Medusa runs an apparently average garden statue store. Procrustes runs a mattress store. The entrance to the Underworld is in LA at a record store. Circe lives on an island paradise that's secretly dangerous. Hydras are like chain donut stores that seem to pop up on every corner. Perseus and his mother struggle in Perseus' childhood but get a happy ending. Calypso has an island paradise where the challenge for the hero of our story is being tempted to leave behind his goals. The plot of Sea of Monsters is blatantly the Odyssey, and it's about Percy trying to get to his best friend (who he shares a literal psychic link to) who is in danger of getting married to someone awful (a literal monster) to help you understand Odysseus trying to get back to Penelope and how important to each other and in sync they are. Battle of the Labyrinth is Theseus and the Labyrinth and it's Percy/Theseus trying to protect his home and his people and fellow kids (like Nico) from the dangers in the maze. These are all supposed to help us understand what is actually going on in those stories.

We also still see how Greek mythology influence shapes and influences western culture in general in their world (which is supposed to be our own and so uses real-world examples) - in government, in architecture, in pop culture - Mythomagic is clearly supposed to be your standard TCG like Magic The Gathering. And in general there is no distinction between where the mythological ends and mundane begins - Camp Half-Blood is both a magical training space for demigods and your run of the mill underfunded summer camp, complete with cheesy camp songs and t-shirts and crafts. Olympus is located on top of the Empire State Building which is operating completely as normal except for when a demigod asks to go to a non-existent floor. Your best friend with a muscular disease in his legs is secretly a satyr. Your brother with down syndrome is a cyclops. Your teacher in a wheelchair is secretly an immortal centaur. Your crappy algebra substitute is a literal fury. But also they're still your teachers. The satyr is still your best friend, the cyclops is still your brother. And that brings me to the second aspect of all of this (which i have talked about before [here] and [here]) - the other purpose it serves is that it is an extension of the overarching disability themes that form the core of the series.

The entire reason that meshing of mundanity and magical is so intertwined is entirely because it's part of the disability metaphor, specifically inspired by early 2000s parenting/teaching concepts for children with disabilities, particularly learning disabilities, as trying to reframe disabilities as "superpowers" to empower kids (and still exists in some more modern forms - like referring to disabilities as "being differently-abled") (I talk about it in my previous post on the subject but this generally fell out of favor due to many kids/students finding it belittling of their struggles) - this is why we get the description of ADHD and Dyslexia being framed as "demigod superpowers." In the series this structure is intentionally made to encourage kids to reframe how they view disabilities in general as not something negative but something interesting and fantastical that they may be more open to engage with - and PJO does this in a really nice way where a lot of the disability struggles are still acknowledged and treated sympathetically. Kids still get bullied, Percy and Annabeth struggle in school or with reading/spelling, they grapple with both internal and external ableism. The entire reason for the titan war in the first series, at least from the demigod perspective, is criticizing flawed systems meant to support disabled people that don't do their job effectively or let too many people fall through the cracks. The Mist "hiding" the "mythological world" from mortals (and even some demigods) is about how most abled people (and some undiagnosed people) don't recognize disability struggles until it affects them personally. None of these things are glossed over! It's handled with nuance and care! The series says "you can be disabled and you can be like these fantastical heroes - not in spite of your disability, but alongside it. Neither negates the other." The series was explicitly made so Rick's disabled son could see himself in a hero and learn about mythology for school. Those are the two pillars of the entire franchise: Disability and learning about mythology.

So, when you mess with that "hidden world" structure, the entire thing falls apart and it immediately doesn't feel right, because it's no longer serving either of those two purposes when it needs to be fulfilling both. Late-series Riordanverse has a tendency to compartmentalize the mythological and keep it entirely sectioned off from the mundane. Think about first series and even TKC versus later series - how many mortal characters are there? what do they do? are they just in the background or do they interact with the main cast frequently? are they more than just family or an extension to the main cast? First series we see Percy's classmates frequently, Percy talks about his mundane experiences at school, multiple mortal parent characters (and other mortal characters like Rachel) are active participants in and vital to the plot. We even see a lot of background mortal characters. In TKC, not only are all the magicians technically mortal, but also Sadie's completely mundane best friends help her out. Now think about HoO, or ToA, or even MCGA. Think about the mortal characters in those series. How important are they? Out of the important ones, how much are they in mundane situations versus being almost entirely involved in something mythological? How many aren't related to any of the main cast? How many aren't actively working for a god? The answer is basically zero! Why is that? Because Rick stopped letting the mundane exist. The entire draw of the main series is that Percy does continue to live this mundane life and that adds to his mythological life and makes the balance and meshing between them interesting, but basically all mundanity ceases to exist by HoO. Camp Jupiter is an isolated entirely magic town. Percy and Jason's schools are full of mythological beings as basically the only people they interact with. The Tri's headquarters is an entire giant building in New York City that they completely control that just so happens to ALSO be directly across the street from the local Oracle's house, because even where Rachel lives isn't allowed to be mundane anymore. Why is Olympus just at the top of the Empire State Building versus the Tri having an ENTIRE building? That feels weird and unbalanced, particularly given the difference in importance between those two! Because one is playing into that balance of the meshing of mundane and magical and the other isn't! The show continues this trend. It doesn't allow any of the mythological to exist within mundanity like it functions in the books, which creates a completely different atmosphere and doesn't allow those spaces or scenes or characters to serve their actual narrative purposes, either making it easier to understand mythology contextually or what disability metaphor or representation is occurring there.

It's part of the problem with show!Percy being too mythologically-savvy - Percy is supposed to be the mundane lens unfamiliar with mythology that the audience is learning by proxy through. That's the entire point of the series! If you have Percy already know everything because he's already too ingrained into this mythological environment from the start, and he just exists in this entirely magical world where he understands everything immediately then the literal target audience of the entire franchise (students being introduced to mythology) is left behind! That's part of why the pacing of the show feels so bad! It's rushing through every scene that's more or less the same as the books, particularly anything mythological, because the show is assuming you've already read the books and already know enough mythology to know what it is and what happens and that you don't want to see it again, so it rushes through. The show doesn't explain things that it presumes you already know - worldbuilding, character decisions, basically any mythology, etc, so it doesn't even bother with it.

Later books in the franchise do this too - as long as it's tangentially Greco-Roman mythology, or if it's anything to do with the main series like a reference in TKC or MCGA or etc, it's not going to elaborate much if at all. HoO speeds through Jason's introduction to CHB, and the only reason we get much introduction to Camp Jupiter is because it's actually new. We're no longer trying to contextualize or learn about mythology, it just all becomes set-dressing and references thrown at you rapid-fire as filler. By late HoO and into TOA and TSATS and such, we're not longer even within the realm of pretending like we're adhering to mythology at all. Why is Iris a vegan? Why is Rhea a hippie? Dunno, don't care! Literally doesn't matter! Why are the pandai panda/elephant-monsters and the troglodytes frog-monsters when that's not part of their actual history at all? Well a.) literally just word associations and b.) possibly a little bit of racism (they're supposed to be humans from India and northern Africa, and you made them monsters. cool. okay. and their plotlines totally aren't horrible within those contexts. awesome. please try thinking literally at all next time, thanks). We're not even bothering to look at mythological instances anymore for a basis, a lot of it's written like we're just going based on the first results on google (hi Menoetes and the cacodaemons - the latter of which is not even spelt correctly once in the entire book - which is weird because they do say "daemon" so they know the word. Not that the cacodaemons are mythologically accurate at all because then they would be humanoid. Instead they seem to just be inspired by the things from Doom). None of it serves the purpose of the narrative at all; we're literally just making random choices, some of them quite distasteful! In large part due to refusing to acknowledge the actual contexts of the myths and how that might translate into something similar or equivalent a modern setting to help conceptualize it - something the first series did inherently by design. And we need this! A.) So that you're less likely to make bad decisions because you are inherently thinking about the historical and cultural contexts of these things and how to compare/explain it, and b.) because the audience for later books/the other series and the show is going to be the same as the first series! Those nonsensical references may be at best cameos to people who are already familiar with them, but if your intended audience is new to mythology then making references like that is just going to leave people out of the loop! You don't shift your target audience in the middle of a franchise!

Later books in the series and the show are failing to understand what the first series was actually doing narratively and how it was approaching these subjects and its audience. When you fail to do that, it completely messes up the general worldbuilding and the core themes and intentions of the franchise as a whole. Once you lose touch with that you might as well just be writing a completely different franchise. You need to approach it from the same lens or else it will feel completely off, because otherwise you've lost all base touchstones that make the series what it is.

[the-kr8tor]

hiii katyy. how are youuu?

i've just started my first Real job and i hate it with my whole heart. fuck gastro.

could i please request gn!r coming home after work tired af and hobie just comforting and reassuring them?

Thank you both for requesting! I combined your requests bc they're pretty similar. Hope that's okay! Ly ly 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're so tired that you can barely keep your eyes open. The bag slung over your shoulder seems to weigh a ton, shoes feeling like cinder blocks beneath your fleet. And muscles being pulled apart with every step you take on the steep staircase.

With your crappy luck, the building’s elevator seems to not work at all. Head placed on your flat’s door, you tiredly insert your key into the lock. Sighing like the world dropped on your head, you finally make it inside. At the same time, Hobie finally unlocks the latch on your window.

You both freeze in place. Hobie's body is half climbing out of the window sill. He's still in his suit, soot and dirt clinging on the leather and spandex. His mask torn at the left side of his face, showing you tuffs of his hair and battered eye. Looks like you both had a hard day.

“Evenin’ love.” He says with a lopsided smile, “you look worse than me.”

“You should look in the mirror, Hobie.” Despite the comment, you quickly toe off your shoes to cross the small distance. Arms raised, frown deepening with every step. He catches you, half sitting on the sill, strong yet fatigued arms enveloping around you. “Oh you smell worse.” With a chuckle, you bury your face on the crook of his neck.

He hums, nosing your temple. “Fought goblin in the sewage.” Pecking the side of your head, he thinks that you would flinch away, but instead you melt further into him. “Fuckin' hell, really?” Laughing, his knuckles glide along your sore spine.

“Mm-hmm,” you know he's joking based on the lack of gross smells, so you cuddle him tighter. Sniffing dramatically, you smile against his neck. “Better than any expensive perfume out there.”

“Weirdo,” poking your side, he taps your legs, to which you understood wordlessly. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he stands up, carrying you across the flat effortlessly. “Who do I have to beat up at your job, hm? Jake stealin’ your lunch again?”

“I wanna quit.” You whine, lifting your head up, you see a grinning Hobie. “I'm joking.”

“You know what they say, Jokes are half meant, love.” Patting your bottom, he fixes his hold on you. “Shower or dinner?”

“Neither, I just wanna lie down.”

“I'll do you one better.” You crane your neck up from his skin, waiting in anticipation. “We take a shower and then we eat dinner in bed.”

Heavy head on his shoulder, you look at him with stars in your eyes. With your warm hand, you thank him with a pat and a kiss on his cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You stole my line.” Smiling, he leans his cheek closer to your lips. “I should be the one saying that.” Whispering softly, he moves his head to face your tired eyes. “You're doin' a good job, I hope you know that.” Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And you're doing fantastic work out there.” You place the pads of your fingers to knead gently at the knot in between his eyebrows. “Better than anyone could do, better than I could do.”

“Don't compare, love. I can't do what you can.”

“And I can't do what you can.”

“Well maybe you can, I'll find you a radioactive spider and we'll see.” You laugh wholeheartedly, and he feels like he has the entire world in his arms.

“How about that shower then?” With those words, he hitches you higher in his arms, stomach laying on his shoulder, warm hands protectively holding you in place. You giggle, smacking his backside playfully.

“Thank you for reminding me!” Hobie's own laughter echoes throughout the space whilst he carries you towards the bathroom like a sack of rice. “You better ready those hands for scrubbing!”

With a screech and a loud smack on his ass from you, Hobie shuts the bathroom door closed. Fatigue melting off the both of you with every laughter.