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halfrican-heat · 10 months

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Upstanding Gentleman (Ony)

Onyankopon was raised in a strict Ghanian household. He was pretty strait-laced...until he met you, of course. Still, Ony has many tricks up his sleeve that never fail to surprise you.

A/N: Yes, I'm high. Hello. So, this is the second Ony post I've had lingering in the back of my mind. It's in head cannon format but I think this could be something. Enjoy!

Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Depictions of smoking marijuana; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (M receiving), Sex in childhood home, Black reader in mind, N-Word used; AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect

Pairing: Sober!Onyankopon x Stoner!Reader

Inspired by: Lauryn Hill and my bf :)

Sober!Ony was raised by a single mother who kept him in line. No drugs, no alcohol and he definitely had a curfew.

Straight A student and graduated the top of his class in high school

Spent majority of his childhood playing video games and taking apart old computers his mother would bring home from her teaching job.

Played basketball and practiced frequently with his friends

Loved taking photos and drawing

Only smoked weed once when he was seventeen and felt guilty about it for a week before he told his mom. (She smacked his head but wasn't that mad)

Never had a thing for drinking. His mom let him have some wine during his graduation dinner. His uncle, later that evening, gave him some liquor. Ony wasn't a fan.

Sober!Ony who went to college in a different state-- hours away from his mother.

He chose to go to a school pretty far away from home to study photography. He loved his mom but he felt like he needed a firm separation from his home life and college life.

That's where he met you. This sweet little thing from a town he had never heard of. So cute...

...and yet you smelled like trouble. Ony's suspicions were confirmed when you offered him a blunt in your car one night. Y'all had been talking for a minute at that point but you never gave off stoner vibes.

Ony declined but didn't mind hanging out as long as you rolled the windows down.

Turns out, you were a huge stoner. Bongs, smoking pieces, a stash larger than some of the ones he had seen back home. You weren't a plug, not really, you just really loved weed. You were super smart, too. Ony had known people like you from back home-- motivated stoners who smoked frequently but it didn't impede them getting shit done. You were like that and Ony really liked that about you.

Ony wasn't sure how to proceed at first but...one thing was sure: You had a hold on Onyankopon that he just couldn't deny.

Sober!Ony who, four years into your relationship, isn't super sober anymore.

"Mama, let me get one of them fruity drinks out the fridge." "They got alcohol in 'em Ony," You call from the kitchen. "I ain't ask you all that. They taste alright-- I feel like a classy nigga drinking them." "Okay, Classy Nigga," You say, bringing him one. "Mister Classy Nigga to you," He says, with a wide grin. "Pinkies out, baby."

Sober!Ony who branched out after meeting you but didn't partake as frequently as you did.

"Let me get a hit, baby." "Nigga, you don't smoke!" Ony kisses his teeth, side-eyeing you. "Then do that shit where you kiss me and blow the smoke in my mouth." You laugh loudly, throwing your head back at his nerve. "Okay, baby," You say, sparking up. Afterwards "Shit, where my inhaler at?"

Sober!Ony who made a great impression on your parents. Perhaps too great.

Your dad loves him, speaking highly of him every time your boyfriend comes up in conversation. "That Ony is a fine, upstanding gentleman," Your dad alway says. Little does he know... "What's that, ma?" His voice is husky in your ear as he thrusts into you roughly. His hand is over your mouth as your childhood mattress squeaks under your weight. Ony has you bent over, his pace punishing as he fucks you from behind. Tears streak your face as you helplessly claw at your sheets "Better be quiet," Ony drawls. "Don't want your folks to hear us, right? Or they gonna know what a slut you are for this upstanding gentleman."

Sober!Ony who loves the way you give head while high.

After many extensive and deep discussions about consent, Ony finally lets you give him head. At first, he was chilling. But then... "Shit, baby! Fuck," He groans, his head falling back. "Slow down, ma." You got his cum on your cheek from the first time he came but you don't care. You don't let up, taking his length down your throat. You suck the entire way down, slurping as you pull back to swirl your tongue around his leaking tip. Your tongue runs along the vein underneath his shaft before taking him back in your mouth, hollowing you cheeks as you slurp him down. "Fuck," He hisses, throwing his arm over his face. You had that man's toes curling and all.

Sober!Ony who loves how sexy you are at any given time of any given day but especially loves when you're feeling yourself while off the za.

Now the skies could fall...not even if my boss should call... Your hips sway seductively to the music as you take a pull from the blunt, in your own world. Lauryn Hill blasts from the radio as your lights change colors in a slow fade. Ony stands at the door of your shared bedroom, watching you sing and dance. You turn slowly, finally noticing him. You wordlessly hold out a hand to him with your body still moving to the music. See I don't need the alcohol...your love make me feel 10 feet tall... He takes your hand, pulling your body close to his. His hands trail your body, finding your ass as the two of you grind on one another. Yeah, Ony is gonna take his time with you tonight.

Sober!Ony who loves you as much as you love him despite your differences.

"Papa, you seen my bong?" "Judie?" "No, the other one." "She in the kitchen cabinet, baby."

"Ma, you seen my screwdriver?" "The fuck you doing drinking those?" "Bae...the tool. My tool." "Oh, it's on the counter by the microwave." a moment later "Onyankopon, what the fuck did you do to my damn radio!"

Overall, Sober!Ony who has changed a lot since the two of you got together. As long as you don't give him any cause for concern, he's happy to let you do as you please (and partake when he feels like it). You level each other up in ways no one expected. You're his lady and Ony doesn't want any one else but you.

"C'mere, my lil pothead," He says, cuddling up to you in bed. "Shut up, nigga." "Watch your mouth. Now lemme rub my legs against yours..."

A/N: I had fun with this. Asks are open!

#Onyankopon x reader #Onyankopon x black!reader #aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #Onyankopon fic #reader insert #black!reader insert #fan fiction for black women #black reader #Lyv Writes #My Writing #Ony's Observatory #Lyv's Library #Sober!Ony

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finnydraws · 2 months

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Girl Dad Rhett/reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/ Female Reader

Word count:575

Description: Life with a lovely cowboy, who loves you and your child very much

genre(s) fluff, slice of life

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/childbirth, mentions of not great parents and insecurities.

Rhett was terrified the first time you told him you were pregnant. His brain just showing him bad memories of his childhood, and of the way Perry treated Amy. He was so uncomfortable with it, that he blocked it from his brain and you had to tell him another 4 times before we was ok.

He starts treating you so gently, don’t expect to go ANYWHERE without this man following you.

The bathroom? He's right outside the door. You’re cooking? He’s there, burning whatever it is you let him help with. Don’t even think about trying to go into town without him.

He buys and stocks up on all of your cravings.

He goes to every. Single. Appointment. At one point Royal asks him to help around the farm and halfway through the task, Rhett leaves him with no warning to get to the appointment on time.

Cried like a baby when he saw you were having a little girl (even though he thought he wanted a boy at first he couldn't imagine anything other than his life with his daughter)

He builds and paints all of her furniture, shades of green and yellow while you draw designs onto the wall. Rhett won't let you touch the paint. Something about chemicals.

When it's time to start buying clothes he needs a second to collect himself after seeing just how small the shoes are in his big hands.

He spends ALL his money on clothes, toys, pillows, blankets. Books, you name it.

At one point he’s half asleep and asks if you think he’ll be the favorite parent, asks if she’ll even like him, and if he can take care of feeding/ comforting her at night.

Tells every person in town about his daughter and keeps the latest ultrasound on his person.

Invites so many people to the baby shower (most people don't come but he invited them nonetheless)

Does not invite perry, he actually tells perry he better not show up.

When you go into labor he panics for a good 10 minutes before packing you into the truck, and speeding to the hospital, if a cop tried to stop him he wouldn't know.

Your baby Iris Cecile Abbott is born at 3:42am on June 10th, about 16 hour later

Y'all steal everything from the hospital room (babies are expensive and if you're already gonna pay for you might as well use em)

Rhett calls his mother to tell her first, bawling as he holds his daughter that he swears has your eyes

Iris is a daddy's girl as she grows up 100%, begs him to take her around the property and look for toads or snakes. He teaches her to ride a horse and she goes into the rodeo (tie down calf roping when she's older, and barrel racing)

Every time Iris competes, Rhett's the loudest one cheering, he definitely shouts stuff like “that's my baby!” and “go on baby! Get em!”

When she hits puberty Rhett nearly cries because he thinks his baby won't want to hang around him anymore

Will check in on her in the middle of the night, make sure she's ok and sleeping well

He 100% tries to intimidate her partners so only the good ones stick

Definitely spoils her though. If she did something small like failing a class she knows she can just say “I'm sorry daddy, I'll do better next time” and he's gone

#rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #outer range #outer range fanfiction #outer range fic #x reader #lewis pullman

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justabigassnerd · 1 year

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Not So Little Anymore

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,573

Warnings - mentions of sex, lil' bit of Rooster being a protective dad, mostly fluff

Summary - Rooster discovers something in his daughters cupboard causing him to realise his little girl isn't as little as she used to be

A/N - whaddup y'all it's me posting another fic! This was another anon request that I hope I did justice to because not only have I never had a parent give me the sex talk, I'm asexual aha. Anyways I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

It was a rare day off for Bradley. There was no training. No classes to teach. And most importantly, no paperwork. You had gone off to school earlier after he made you some breakfast and bid you goodbye with a kiss on the top of your head. Since the house was quiet, Bradley decided to do some of the chores he’d been meaning to do for a while.

He was a lot more productive than he was expecting. He reorganised the garage and gave the Bronco a long overdue wash. He managed to oil the hinges on the squeaky door that had been driving both him and you nuts with its incessant squeaking. When Bradley had finished every chore that came to find, he got himself a glass of water and silently debated his next move. He then remembered that you’d complained about the sink in your ensuite bathroom leaking and so he grabbed the toolbox from the garage and made his way to your bathroom to see if he could fix it himself. He didn’t know what the cause of the leak was so he opened the cupboard underneath the sink and had a look at the pipe but wasn’t able to see it since your cupboard was full of stuff so he started taking the stuff out and when he moved a box of tampons, he couldn’t believe what he was staring at. His eyes locked onto an open box of condoms and his brain struggled to formulate any kind of coherent thought as he stared at the box. When his brain finally caught up, he reached out and took the box out of the cupboard and put it aside so he could focus on fixing the sink.

Once he fixed the sink and returned everything to the cupboard, Bradley got a text from Hangman asking if he was going to be joining the rest of the squad at the Hard Deck. Bradley replied saying that he would be coming while silently hoping Phoenix will be amongst those who are going to the bar since he could use her advice on how to have a talk with you about the discovery he made in the cupboard. His mind couldn’t stop thinking about those condoms and how he could even begin to approach this conversation with you.

He got a follow-up text from Hangman at half-four saying that the squad were heading to the bar, and he replied saying he’d meet them there. You still hadn’t come home but you had sent him a text earlier saying you were going to a friend’s house so he let you know that he was going to the Hard Deck and probably wouldn’t be home when you got back. After hitting send he showered and changed, throwing a Hawaiian shirt over his white t-shirt and tugging on a pair of blue jeans. As he grabs his phone from his bedside table his eyes land on a picture of you and him from your sixth birthday party. He had you sat on his shoulders as you giggled uncontrollably. He picked up the wooden frame and held it for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he reminisced. He was shaken out of his thoughts by his phone ringing, seeing Payback’s name flash across his phone made him sigh, put down the photo and pick up the call.

“Payback, what’s up?” He asks when the phone reaches his ear, immediately hearing the rowdiness of the Hard Deck and Dagger Squad in the background.

“What do you mean, what’s up? You said you’d meet us here and we’re still waiting on you.” Payback says the second he hears Bradley’s voice.

“I’m just coming now, cool your jets.” Bradley laughs as he heads downstairs, grabbing the keys to the Bronco before promising he’ll be there soon and ending the call. He then tugs his shoes on and heads out to his car to begin the drive to the Hard Deck.

When he arrives at the Hard Deck, he climbs out of the Bronco and enters the bar, letting out a small sigh of relief when he sees Phoenix amongst the cluster of naval aviators, Maverick included, by the pool table. He heads over to the group and greets them as they grin and clap him on the back.

“I’m going to grab a drink.” He says, quickly excusing himself to get a beer from Penny at the bar and once he’s got his drink he returns to the group, asking them how they found their day and chatting until he found a moment to pull Phoenix aside.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” He asks as he moves Phoenix away from the group and nervously takes a sip from his drink.

“Of course, you can. Is everything okay?” Phoenix asks kindly, making Rooster remember why Phoenix was his best friend in the first place. She was always willing to help him out when he needed her.

“It’s about y/n.” Rooster starts.

“Is she okay?” Phoenix asks, alarmed and worried that something has happened to you.

“She’s fine it's just. She’s been complaining about her leaky sink for a while now, and I went up there to fix it earlier today.”

“You’re asking me to fix her sink?” Phoenix asks, confused as to where Rooster was going with this.

“I found an open box of condoms in her cupboard under the sink.” Rooster says quickly, almost flinching as he said it like the words physically hurt him to say.

“What the hell did you just say?” Phoenix and Rooster’s heads snap to see the wide eyes of Dagger Squad and Maverick who look appalled at what they just heard.

“This was meant to be a private conversation.” Rooster grumbles, glaring over his friends.

“We heard y/n and we had to know whether she was okay or not.” Fanboy shrugs unapologetically as the others murmur in agreement.

“Well you know she’s fine so you can mind your own business now.” Rooster mutters lowly as he sips from his beer, glancing at Phoenix who just shrugs.

“How can we when you dropped that bombshell?” Payback implores, throwing his hands up wildly.

“She’s a child.” Maverick says, hating the idea of you being within five feet of a guy who wasn’t him or part of Dagger Squad. The team gets loud as what Rooster said sinks in more and more.

“Okay, enough guys!” Phoenix says loudly, getting the attention of the whole group within seconds.

“She is not a child. She’s seventeen and I bet none of you guys could say you weren’t doing the same things at her age.” Phoenix says, folding her arms across her chest and raising an eyebrow as Dagger Squad begins to shuffle uncomfortably and mumble to each other, proving her point. Phoenix then grabs Rooster’s arm and pulls him further away from the group, so they are entirely out of earshot.

“You need to talk about this with her Bradley. You need to make sure she is aware of everything so you can prevent things like accidental pregnancies. And please make sure she knows about her right to say no. I know this is probably a talk that’s awkward but she needs her dad to help with these kinds of things. You have to teach her about the world and if that’s giving her the sex talk then damn it you’re going to give her the sex talk.” Phoenix says once the Daggers have returned to their own conversations, so she knew the focus wasn’t on them anymore.

“I know Phoenix, it’s just hard. I swear it was only yesterday she was the little girl begging me to sit her on my shoulders.” Rooster says, thinking back to the picture he had sat proudly on his bedside table. Her stern look softens, and Phoenix smiles softly and rests a hand on Rooster’s arm.

“She’s always going to be your little girl, Bradley. She’s just not as little as she used to be.” Phoenix says gently as Rooster takes a sip of beer.

“I know.” Rooster admits, hanging his head in his sorrow.

“Hey, let’s have some fun tonight. Someone needs to beat Hangman in pool and my money’s on you. Just talk with y/n as soon as possible.” Phoenix urges as she brings Rooster back over to the pool table so he could take his mind off the situation. The rest of the night was filled with laughter and fun as Rooster finally beat Hangman in pool, much to Hangman and Coyote’s dismay. When Rooster headed home for the night, he felt a little more confident in approaching the conversation with you.

The next evening, Bradley worked up the courage to talk to you. He approached your door slowly and knocked cautiously. Waiting for you to give him the okay to come in. When you finally said he could come in, he entered slowly, offering you a small smile.

“Hey, dad.” You greeted with a smile as you looked up from the book you were reading while you were sitting up against the headboard of your bed.

“Hey y/n/n, can we talk?” Bradley asks quietly, making your expression quickly shift to one of worry as you nod.

“You’re not in trouble. I just want to talk.” Bradley elaborates as he eases himself down to sit on your bed and glances over at you as you visibly relax at his words.

“Okay, what’s up?” You ask as you close your book, placing it back on your bedside table as you focus your attention on your dad who clears his throat.

“So I fixed your sink yesterday.” Bradley starts, glancing from the floor to you as you grin.

“You did and I totally forgot to thank you for that. So, thank you, dad.” You smile as you shuffle over to give him a hug. He wastes no time in returning the hug, relishing holding you in his arms before pulling away.

“And when I emptied out your cupboard to have a look at what was going on underneath the sink I found a box of condoms.” Bradley then says, raising an eyebrow as you squirm uncomfortably and avoid his gaze. You even shuffle back to sit against the headboard of your bed again.

“Dad we really don’t need to be talking about this.” You insist, your face flushing a deep red as you fiddle with the corner of your duvet cover to distract yourself.

“Sweetheart, we do need to talk about this. I need to make sure you’re smart about this. If you’re having sex, I need to be sure you’re safe. I don’t want you to end up accidentally becoming pregnant or anything.”

“Dad, please stop talking.” You plead, burying your face in your hands.

“Not going to happen. I also need you to know you have the right to say no. Don’t let anyone pressure you into having sex if you don’t want to. The same goes for the other way around, your partners have the right to say no too so always respect their choices okay?” Bradley continues, turning slightly so he could face you while you continued to avoid eye contact with him.

“Dad, the school gives us these talks. I know how to be safe. Me and Ethan are always safe.” You insist, getting the courage to look up and meet your dad’s eyes. Bradley saw your eyes widen slightly as you revealed the boy’s name, but Bradley wasn’t going to be mad at you, not when he was doing the same thing at your age.

“I know honey, but sometimes things like condoms aren’t always one hundred percent safe. Trust me, I thought I was safe and then nine months later I have a newborn living in my house. You and Ethan don’t need a kid at this age.” Bradley chuckles as the corners of your mouth twitch up into a small smile. Bradley had been open with telling you that he wasn’t planning on having kids until he settled down with someone. He told you once you were old enough since you had been constantly asking where your mum was when you were younger and saw all the other kids your age with their mums. When Bradley initially told you about how he never planned to be a father at this point, you thought it meant you were a mistake and you were unwanted. Bradley had put a stop to those thoughts instantly as he held you tight and told you that even though he never planned on having you, you were still the best thing that happened in his life, and he’d never trade you for the world.

“My point is, if you’re having sex, I want you to take measures to avoid pregnancy, especially at this age. We could look at getting you on the pill just to be on the safe side.” Bradley then offers, watching as you silently debate about whether to accept his offer or not.

“That probably would be safer, wouldn’t it?” You admit quietly as Bradley nods.

“It would be, yes.” Bradley says, making you feel comfortable with the choice.

“We’ll look at getting some this weekend, alright? But for now, I want to hear more about this Ethan guy.” Bradley says with an amused smile as you groan.

“I didn’t mean to say his name.” You grumble but scoot closer to your dad’s side, curling into him as he wraps an arm around you.

“Well you did and I want to know if he’s good to you.” Bradley says, smiling down at you as you look up at him.

“He’s nice. He cares about me. And he respects me. We’ve both had a couple of times where we’ve not wanted to have sex and we’ve respected each other.” You say, making Bradley press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m glad he respects you. Never be with someone who doesn’t respect you. And I’m glad you respect him too.” Bradley says as you smile up at him lightly. As Bradley looks down at you, he is overcome with emotions as he thinks about how much he loves you and how proud he is of the person you’re becoming. He finds himself tearing up slightly and when you notice it, you become concerned.

“Are you okay, dad?” You ask worriedly as he lifts a hand to wipe at his tears.

“They’re happy tears sweetheart, nothing to worry about.” He assures you with a smile as you relax back into his embrace.

“You’re just growing up too fast, that’s all. You’re not a little girl anymore.” Bradley continues as you raise an eyebrow.

“Is that not a good thing? It means you don’t have to look after me as much anymore and you can be your own person without having to drag a kid around everywhere.” You question, confused about why your dad was getting emotional over such a thing. In response, Bradley wrapped his other arm around you and tugged you impossibly closer, feeling as if he was holding the entire world in his arms. He may not have been holding the whole world in his arms. But he was holding his world. He then pressed another few kisses to the top of your head and ran a hand through your hair.

“You’ll understand one day, sweetheart.”

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #top gun #top gun fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #rooster #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster x daughter!reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x daughter!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x daughter!reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

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commanderquinn · 10 months

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a list of canon ways in which lillian hart is The Fucking Worst that cora coe deserves financial and emotional compensation for:

-the basis for the big divorce counseling mission is that cora's worried for her mother's safety. that means, before going on a deep cover operation with smugglers known to kill rangers, marines, or anyone else caught trying to interfere with their business, lillian didnt leave her daughter a heads up much less a lead. once the fuck again, this woman decided that her career was more important than her daughter's mental and emotional health. once the fuck again, this woman decided she could just disappear from cora's life and then come back out of the blue without consequence

-when you go to lillian's office to look for her at cora's request, the guy working the desk knows SAM well enough to know his name and give him shit like they've got a personal history, but he??? isnt sure about????? cora's name???? word for word, he looks at her and says "it's cora, right?" you're telling me that this woman doesn't talk about her kid enough for her fellow INVESTIAGATIVE rangers to be sure about her name??? are you SHITTING ME??????? get the fuck out of here. you cant push "ranger family values" and the close ties they have in one breath then claim she likes to keep a professional distance at work in the other. you wanna have the conversation about what fresh hell it is being a working mother in a position of power, lets go, ill have that conversation all day long. but lillian hart is not a fucking example of a working mother and im gonna be pretty fucking insulted for working mothers everywhere if i catch wind of ppl trying to pull that kind of defense card. the woman's an awful parent and should be held the fuck accountable for it. you wanna know how i know????

she doesn't say cora's name enough for the ranger watching the door to be confident in it, but he remembers alllll the stories of the captain her ex is cozying up to. and lillian is the one to confirm during the quest that she has been getting the stories from cora, so there's some clear "oh she already likes the stranger more than me." i know im reading into it because its fiction and none of these people are real, but ive also, y'know been in cora's shoes, so i can tell you from real life experience that shit does exist. idk if that was the writers INTENT, but it sure does a great job at reflecting a very sad reality

-sam points out its dumb that lillian wants to speed the ship, with her daughter on it, directly at the sydicate. idk abt y'all, but my ship was pretty dinky at that point bc i was focused on outposts, and we got ambushed by like 6 ship waves once we landed for that fight. again, i get it. game mechanics get a higher priority than realism. but this whole "we have to finish this because theres a chance you were spotted trying to rescue me" shit is so. nauseating. theres no demand to drop off cora somewhere safe, theres no "lets call in the cavalry." its this fucking egomaniac looking you dead in the eye and being like "i know i just traumatized the shit out of my kid but i need you to drive us into an ambush while she's still on board. hope you're a good shot because sam and i cant kill them ourselves." and so what that we did that????? YOURE TELLING ME IT WAS JUST THOSE SHIPS???? the rest of the organization is just going to LET IT GO???? like no fucking wonder sam sees himself as the better option even through all his fucking doubt. at least he knows when to turn the fuck around because shit is above his paygrade

-she has custody rights. she is a decorated and respected ranger. sam being a smuggler wasnt public knowledge, but point out one person in akila who wouldnt believe her in a heartbeat over it. everyone in town gives him nothing but shit, and they all side with his dad who was definitely no picnic to live with. im guessing big emotional detachment there, lotta interrogation and persecution rather than teaching and understanding. HELL, sam would probably own up to his past if lillian outed him for it, he's that type of idiot. at literally any point she could put in the effort to get legal council involved. if she's SOOOO by the law, whats the hold up there???? i agree the kid shouldnt be on my ship while im in the middle of a space fight. ive talked with sam about it, and im not even the kids parent (as of the personal quest). what the fuck are you doing about it lillian????????? oh thats right. we cant get lillian on the phone. whomp whomp.

-she made cora cry. hyper independent, "big girls dont cry" cora coe. multiple times. worse, she made cora cry because she made cora feel like she wasn't as important as lillian's career. i dont give a fuck what criminals are doing. i do not give a fuck. i give a fuck that that little pixel child got her heart broken and there isnt a dialogue for me to call out her mother for being a huge fucking cunt to her own daughter but theres a thousand and one options for me to tell sam he's parenting wrong. he is, and i have no problem using them when they're appropriate, but where the fuck are they for lillian??? why am i not allowed to tear this woman a new asshole at any point, but there's like 20+ extra dialogue options added to every single npc you have a persuade option with???? todd my head hurts and its your fault

-"im sure sam's told you all about me. go on. ask whatever you want." yet there is no option to ask what the fuck her problem is. so, clearly, i cannot, in fact, ask whatever i want.

-"but the looks i got from my fellow rangers reading alexander dumas... we do strange things for kids." yeah hart??? thats your standard????? THATS your idea of going out of your way for your kid??? literally how did sam fall for this woman oh my god i cant even listen to her speak without wanting to use the power of bitchhood i inherited from a long line of angry irish women to ridicule her to tears. maybe then she'll fucking understand how small she makes her fucking kid feel every time she turns a moment of bonding into a little "woe is me and my comfort zone oh how unfortunate i am to have a brilliant daughter that wants to connect with me through her greatest passion"

-she openly admits that she dumped the cargo sam was smuggling not because she felt any connection or sympathy or just didnt want to destroy someones chance at life in a capitalist society, but because he was a good pilot and she didnt want that talent to "go to waste" so she could recruit him. thats not really a thing against cora i just really fucking hate that and the picture it paints of her priorities as a human being

-"if we're going to be really honest here... back when we were a team... cora would follow you everywhere, like a little adoring dog. i... just fell out of it. long before we separated."

i literally. do not have words for how fucking disgusted i am by that line of dialogue. oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god. i. i TRULY would not even know where to start. the dog comparison makes me violently angry and if you'd given me a punch interrupt at that moment, i would have broken my keyboard punching the accept option

-go replay or watch a recording of that divorce counseling mission one more time. while you're doing it, imagine the roles reversed. imagine youre romancing a character thats a mother bringing cora into space, and the ranger standing in your cockpit asking to finish the mission is her father who took off to live at work once it was clear his little girl liked mommy better. imagine THAT while you listen to the (imo) out of fucking pocket dialogue where sam constantly praises lillian for being "a good ranger/woman." then you come back and tell me how comfortable you are with the concept of lillian hart as a character.

#sam coe #lillian hart negative #cora coe #starfield #meta #look man i know i know i have mommy issues and im biased but jesus fucking christ i cant stand her as a character #she's not a mother by any stretch of the imagination #she designated HERSELF as extended family and im forever disgusted #anyways im writing up a meta post abt my feelings on sam so far #lillian just gets on my fucking nerves so a hate post for her was easy to whip up lmao

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strawberryfairi · 4 months

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Hello, you haven't updated Hanma's fic for a long time, why?🤧

Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, lots of denial, angst, sneaky link, lots of cheating, mutual pining, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

w.c: 4.6k💠 Released: March 13, 2024

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NOTE: I'm so utterly sorry for how long it's taken to post this next chapter. The writer's block I've been going through has been absolutely INSANE! But thank y'all for bearing with me and here goes chapter 5. I wanted to make this chapter as spicy/exciting yet non cringe as possible so hopefully I was able to cook.

C.W: Heavy smut, p in v, deep throating, lots of begging

5; SIN 罪

"I-I-..what are you doing?" You stutter completely flustered.

"Just tellin' you what's on my mind." He shrugs plainly, a smug grin on his face.

"Well stop. I didn't ask what you were thinking." You shoot back with as much sassiness as you could muster, trying to regain your composure. Hanma laughs lightly, a surprisingly cute laugh that almost makes you smile too.

"You trynna boss me around in my own place?" He raises a teasing brow.

"Yeah, when you're doin' things you're not supposed to." You clap back.

"Aaw, but you like it. You like it so much you're soakin' wet right now." He murmurs right by your left ear.

Once again you went speechless, feeling trapped because he was right. There was no point in trying to lie about this one. "I know you wanna try to act like you went and just forgot about what we did, but we both know you wanna finish what we started just as much as I do." He says, looking you dead in the eyes.

"I don't.." You trail off.

"Don't act like you don't think about it, about me stretching this little pussy out-

"Stop!"

"-About making you cum over and over again."

"Please don't! Don't do this!" You whimper anxiously, looking down to the floor in an overwhelming blend of emotions. He chuckles mischievously, lifting your head up once again to look him in the eyes. "You know what I think about? I imagine the look on your face when you're fucked out way passed your limit, your cute little legs shaking while you cry to me about it being too much. Uuugh, and I think about you on yours knees for me, letting me teach you how to use that pretty throat when you suck my dick." He runs his tongue across his bottom lip lewdly, that sultry tone in his voice making your pussy gush.

"Don't talk like that." You mumble desperately.

"Come ooon pretty girl. Stop acting like you don't wanna fuck me, like you don't want me to slut you out." He coos, brushing his lips temptingly against your neck. You let out a shaky breath, trying so hard to keep your composure. The way he talks to you like this, so dirty and without a care, it turns you on so ridiculously much.

"I-I'm not acting! We..really can't do this!" You shake your head with your brows furrowed, you're so conflicted.

"We can, baby. We can do it right here on this wall, on the bed...both." He hums, lightly sucking on your neck.

An airy moan slips passed your lips at his words, involuntarily turning your head to give him better access. "Sounds nice doesn't it?" He purrs.

"Wait wait, Kenny's gonna find out! He'll be pissed!" You protest nervously.

"He won't find out." He murmurs against your skin while planting a hickey a few inches above your collarbone. "Yeah he will! H-He'll kill me; and you too." You mutter desperately between moans, grabbing two small fistfuls of his hoodie.

"He's not gonna find out, don't worry. You're safe with me, angel." He assures.

You knew you weren't anywhere close to safe with him. You were teetering on the edge of a cliff, just seconds from plummeting into an unforgiving pit of fire. Your resolve and faithfulness is a complete joke now, as thoughts of Ken seem to dissolve from the forefront of your mind with each passing second. But damn, it'd be a lie to say you didn't love it. It's so wrong, but the idea of finally having sex with Hanma makes your heart flutter in your chest like crazy. All those days you'd spent fantasizing and dreaming about what he'd feel like deep inside you-fuuuck, you could barely keep it together anymore. Your body practically craved him, begging and screaming for him to throw you on that huge bed and do whatever the hell he wanted to you. 'Cause quite honestly, a part of you would gladly let him.

Before you could respond, he leans away from your neck, grabbing the back of your thighs and picking you up. You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck as he sets your back against the cold wall next to the doorway.

Uuugh, he's gonna get you in so much trouble!

But to be honest...fuck it.

Hanma leans in, placing his wickedly sweet lips onto yours to which you gladly meet him halfway. You both moan together, tongues immediately crashing in a needy, sloppy kiss. The kiss is noisy, the sound of your mouths ravaging each other spurring you both on. You pull him impossibly close, placing your right hand on the nape of his neck while the other traces all along the muscles of his shoulder and chest over his hoodie.

His hands squeeze your thighs as he presses his hardening dick right against your aching, clothed pussy. Then he pulls away from your lips, his honey brown eyes on fire with lust. "Before I rip this little outfit off'a you, I want you to tell me you want me." He says breathily against your lips. He didn't have to tell you twice...

"I want you! I'm not supposed to, but I-I want you so bad! It hurts how bad I need it." You admit instantly, your face burning up with embarrassment at how pitiful and desperate you sounded.

"Hmmm, I don't think I'm too convinced by that, sweetheart. Y'sure you won't just try to forget again?" He tilts his head to the side, shifting his hands to grab your ass and grind against your pussy. You moan from the delicious friction he gave you, answering him frantically.

"No no, I won't forget! I didn't forget before either; I promise!" You respond frantically, shaking your head.

"Oh? But earlier you said you couldn't remember. Which is it-

"I was just lying! I was embarrassed 'cause I was trying not to want you this whole time." You whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I mean it. I really want you." You add softly. He looks into your eyes for a second, before giving you another toe curling kiss. You feel the coolness of the wall leave your back as he walks you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with you in his lap. Then, he pulls away, shifting you around so you were lying in his lap on your stomach.

"What are you doi-

You cut yourself off with a loud cry, feeling a sting on your right ass cheek. You gasp in shock, trying to turn and look over at him. No he did not just smack your ass like that!

"Since I'm still not very convinced you won't turn around and tell me we should forget it, I'm gonna make sure I'm all you can think about after this. Got me, angel?"

Your brows furrow slightly in curiosity, yet you nod nonetheless. Abruptly he smacks your ass again, in the same exact spot as before. Your body jumps in response as you yelp again. "You seem to have a thing for not answering me with words, huh? How 'bout you try "yes, daddy"." He suggests smugly.

"Yes..daddy." You murmur shyly, looking to the floor in front of you. You swallow, feeling your face burn up in embarrassment at how much calling him that actually turned you on. A wicked grin makes its way across his lips. "That's perfect." He praises. "You don't mind if I play with you a little, right?" He asks mischievously, making your heart skip a beat.

"No daddy, I don't mind." You shake your head, biting your lip excitedly. "Good girl, you learn fast." His tatted hands grip and massage your ass, fingers slightly grazing against your pussy every now and then. Your hips start moving by themselves, trying to find any kind of friction to ease the growing achiness between your legs. Another smack onto your ass makes you cry out, halting your movements instantly. "Stay still." He commands sternly, smacking your ass four more times. You jump and whimper with each slap, trying to keep yourself as still as possible.

Your whimpers turn into full out moans as he continues, his right hand finally rubbing your needy pussy, while the other firmly grips your ass. "Still want me, doll?" He murmurs.

"Yes! Yes daddy; I want you so bad!" You whine desperately, unconsciously grinding your hips back and forth on his hand. He moves his hand, making you pout, then shifts your teddy to the side. The cool air against your core gives you goosebumps all over. "Mm, look at this pretty pussy; goddamn." He hums, slipping his ring and middle finger between your folds, making you whimper from his touch. "So fuckin' wet." He whispers, watching you moan and squirm in his lap.

"Remember when I made you cum on my fingers?" He asks sensually, prodding around your needy entrance. "Yes daddy. Please do it again!" You beg, tilting your ass up. His left hand smacks your ass again. One, two, three times. He grips your right cheek, spreading you open and giving him the perfect view of his fingers on your pussy. Finally he slides his long fingers all the way in, making you gasp deeply, nearly seeing stars. You squirm around, trying to find something to hold on to.

"Ooooh! Fuck fuck fuck!" You holler, squeezing your eyes closed as he fingers you fast and deep. Your breathing turns into labored pants, failing miserably at keeping still. His fingers make your pussy talk, gushing and squelching with every pump. His free hand lays down rough slaps to each cheek, going back and forth. "Yes yeess!" You repeat like a mantra. Your legs start shaking, the mix of pleasure and stinging pain driving you straight into your first orgasm. "If you wanna cum, you'd better ask first." He says sternly, nearly making your eyes roll back.

"Ca-can I cum please, daddy?! I can't-..." You whimper, feeling yourself getting closer. Your hands ball into fists, unable wait for his answer, you're too close.

Then...he stopped.

You blink a few times, trying to process what just happened. His fingers pull out of you, and go back to gripping your ass along with his other hand.

"Why'd you stop?!" Your question comes out whiny and a highly annoyed. He definitely knew you were seconds from cumming. "I thought you didn't mind if I played with you?" He teases, squeezing and rubbing circles on your ass. You were speechless. You've never been denied an orgasm before, ever. It felt terrible, like you were just ripped out of an amazing dream. It felt even worse since he clearly enjoyed doing that to you.

"Aaaw, you didn't like that, babydoll?" He giggles (yes, giggles), his tone faking innocence.

"No..." You grit out lowly. You'd be glaring at him if you weren't facing away from him.

"Daddy's sorry. I'll let you cum this time." He assures soothingly, slipping his hand down to rub circles on your clit. You let out a blissful moan, instantly forgetting about your denied orgasm. He smacks your ass hard, just as he goes and slides his two fingers inside you again. "Mmmmm." You bite your lip, determined this time to get off. He slides his fingers in and out slowly, so slowly actually that it was getting rather annoying.

"Go faster." You whimper, moving your hips back. You jump, feeling a particularly hard smack against your left cheek. It stung so bad. "OW!"

"Stop moving." Is all he says, continuing with that same miserable ass pace. You whine, forcing your hips still as you take what he gives. This is absolutely not what you thought he meant when he said he wanted to play with you. This isn't playing, this is torture. "Pleaaase, go faster!" You beg desperately, tears nearly forming in your eyes. His strokes were so shallow, and slow, it felt good but you needed more badly. You needed him much deeper. He takes out his fingers with a little pop sound, much to your dismay, and spreads your wetness around your clit. "Noooo, I need more! Daddy please! I can't do this!" You sob defeatedly.

"Yes you can, baby." He coos softly, rubbing your entrance with his thumb. "I caaan't!" You whine, hips just slightly moving. He stops you with another hard smack, you mewl, feeling the tears trying to fall from your eyes.

"Look at you cryin' for me." He grins, a wicked laugh leaving his lips. You pout with a defeated groan, only amusing him further. He had you right where he wanted you. "I wanna cum so bad; I need you. Please daddy, pleaaaase." You beg exasperatedly. He moans, running his two fingers up and down your folds, then abruptly slides them back inside. "Uuughh!" You moan loudly, keeping still as he pushes them all the way in. He sets a pace, deep, and much faster than before. "That feel better, angel?" He murmurs sensually. "Uh huh! Uh huh!" You moan breathlessly, frantically nodding your head up and down. "Say thank you daddy." He commands, upping the pace further.

"Th-thank you daddy, thank you, thank you!" You repeat over and over, starting to shake all over again. His other hand smacks and squeezes your ass cheek, turning you on like crazy. You start panting, your orgasm hitting you out of nowhere. "Ooh fuck! Can I cum-oh my god-c-can I cum, daddy?!" You ask wildly, legs trembling even worse than before. "Hmmm, nah." He says, pulling his fingers out. "Nooo! Don't stop, don't sto-

He silences you with a hard smack on your ass, making you whimper and whine, the tears already fully streaming down your cheeks. He chuckles evilly, lifting you up and placing you on the floor on your knees in front of him. You look up at him wearily with a frustrated pout.

"I wanna see how you look with your mouth full of my dick. Then I promise I'll let you cum." Your expression immediately shifts, eyes sparkling in nervous excitement, watching him stand over you and pull his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs forward, nearly slapping against his stomach. He's huge, the length and width intimidating you as you wonder how you're gonna go about fitting all this in your mouth.

You opt for what seemed obvious to you, running your tongue and lips all over his shaft, then use your hands to stroke the base. Your mouth wraps around his tip, leaning forward and taking as much of him in as you could, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head back and forth. You set a pace for yourself, using your tongue to swirl around the tip as your hands help you with the rest.

"Not like that, baby." He says softly, cupping your face with his hands to stop you. "Don't use your hands."

You wanted to protest that you couldn't go any further with your mouth, but he's already guiding you down his length. Your eyes squeeze closed, hands grasping at his thighs as you gag and sputter on his dick. "That's it, all the way in." He praises, bringing his hips forward. Your mind was working in overdrive trying to figure out how to balance between breathing through your nose and keeping your throat relaxed so you wouldn't choke. This was very new to you, you've never done something like this, really because Ken has never told or asked you to. Hanma's pace is just enough to have your eyes watering, trying desperately to keep up as he uses your throat. He makes it messy, spit bubbling up around your lips and dripping down your chin. For a moment you remember you definitely put mascara on earlier for the shoot, it's highly likely long gone, lost in the tears around your eyes and cheeks.

"Fuuuck, that feels so good." His pleasured moans with the sound of your gagging and spitting blends with the music in the background. It shocked you how much you were enjoying this, your arousal literally flowing down your legs to your mid thighs. You ached so badly for him, but you liked that you were making him feel good like this. Your eyes flutter, feeling him suddenly hold you still, your trembling lips wrapped around the base of him. You sputter hard, struggling not to try and move your head away, lightly digging your nails into his legs.

Finally he pulls away, letting you breathe, coughing a little as you wipe your mouth. He helps you stand, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. "That was perfect, angel." He praised, leaning in and giving you a deep kiss, moving his tongue against yours. You moan, your hands traveling all over his neck and shoulders. Hanma turns towards the bed, throwing you near the pillows. He lifts his hoodie over his head, tossing it to the side before climbing on top of you. He pulls the string of your halter and helps you out of your teddy, leaving you in just your thigh high, white lace stockings.

"You're not gettin' any second thoughts about this, are you? 'Cause I can't stop now." He purrs, trailing kisses all along your neck and jawline. "Not at all." You shake your head, bringing him back up for another kiss. His right hand reaches between the two of you, lining himself up with your entrance and skillfully easing inside you.

He moans against your lips as you whimper loudly, basking in the feeling of stretching you out. You tense up instantly, gripping his shoulders while you pull away from the kiss, gasping at how he's already bullying his way past the entrance of your tight walls. Once just a little more than the tip of him is all the way in, your hands reach for his hips, trying to keep him from moving any further as your brows furrow tightly together. "Wait, wait..." You mutter shakily.

"You gonna give me this pussy, pretty girl?" He asks sensually, placing your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half. "Ahh!" You gasp, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. He reaches between you two, using his thumb and running circles over your clit, helping him go even further. "Too much. Wait...'s too much!" You struggle to speak. The deeper he went the more full you felt, practically seeing stars and other galaxies as he kept going.

"You don't know what too much is." Hanma teases. He pulls out just a bit, then rolls his hips forward, burying himself all the way inside you. "Oooh!" Your voice shook and cracked a bit as you mewled, squirming a little underneath him as your toes curled. Your walls clench onto him so tightly, barely even making space for him yet he continues anyway, your pussy squelching loudly with his long thrusts. "Oh my gooood." You moan lowly, throwing your head back in ecstasy, the discomfort finally slipping away. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing heavily while he sets the most perfect pace.

"Shit, you feel me deep in this pussy, angel?" He asks, putting his hand right on your stomach, pressing down a little. Your breath catches in your throat, his hand on your stomach making you feel his big dick dragging back and forth in your walls even more. Both of your hands struggle to settle on where to rest, going from gripping his shoulders, to the sheets, his arms, his back. "Fuuuck! Yes, daddy!" You moan, your legs already trembling. Both of your gaze's meet, looking at each other with eyes completely clouded over with lust. He looks so damn good over you, his earring slightly swaying, and his muscles tensing and contracting with each movement he makes. Leaning himself up off of you, he uses the back of your knees to keep you pinned down, picking up the pace as his thrusts become harder.

Instantly your hands settle on gripping the sheets, crying out loudly, and arching your back off the bed. Your legs fight with his hands, testing his grip as they squirm and wriggle around aimlessly. Since he had edged you so much earlier, you're even more sensitive than usual. "I'm-I'm gonna c-cum!" You whimper in a high pitch, squeezing your eyes closed as your feel yourself quickly colliding with your first orgasm. Hanma lets go of one your legs, wrapping his hand around your neck, choking you while pounding his hips into you harder. "Yes daddy, yes, uugh shhiiit!" You cry out loudly, the feeling of his hand gripping your throat only making your pussy clench around him harder.

"Look at me when you cum, I wanna see those pretty eyes." He commands, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every single little thing. Your walls flutter wildly as you try to keep your eyes open, coating his length with a sloppy mix of cum and your cream.

Nothing but high pitched ah's and mewls leave your lips, feeling your whole body shake and twitch hard from the intensity of your orgasm. He was making it last longer, keeping that same perfect pace and angle that has him hitting so deep. "Mmm, so fuckin' sexy." He hums, watching your eyes roll back.

He slows to a stop as you finally come down from your orgasm, panting heavily as he lets go of your throat. Flipping you over he lifts you up by your hips, face down ass up. His hands run along your ass then up your back, making you moan softly as a sensual shiver runs down your spine from his touch. Leaning up, he slips back inside you, letting out a deep groan as his hands grip your hips tightly. His strokes are so long, hard, and deep, roughly hitting against your g-spot every single time.

"Oh my god, fuck! Yes yes!" You cry out loudly, gripping the sheets and pulling. "You look so good takin' this dick, angel. How's it feel?" He purrs lowly, breathing heavier as he pounds you from the back. "S-so gooood! 'S so big daddy!" You whimper, voice shaky from the impact of his hips against your ass. He moans in response, grabbing your ass and smacking each cheek hard. You cry out loudly, feeling your walls clench around him tighter when he did that.

"You're shakin' so much. Gonna cum again?" He murmurs sensually. You can't even respond anymore, nothing but loud moans fly past your lips, as drool from the corner of your mouth drops a bit on the sheets. Another orgasm shoots through your body, cum dripping along his dick and down onto the bed. Hot tears pool around your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. Hanma doesn't bother to let you ride it out slowly, he keeps his thrusts steady and hard, forcing a second orgasm right on top of the previous one. You literally scream, your body quickly being overwhelmed by the intensity. "Damn, you're cummin' back to back for me, baby?" He moans deeply.

"I-I caaan't! Please..." You shudder so violently, your voice shook with every word like you were being tased.

"Can't what?" Hanma teases.

"S-slow down! Go-..go slower!" You stutter badly, regaining your hands grip on the sheets in front of you and attempting to pull yourself away from his relentless thrusts.

"'S it too much?" He asks innocently, his voice faux comforting. His hands grab onto your wrists, holding them back behind you like reigns as he fucks you rougher. This only made you cry harder, your arms shifting any kind of way to get out of his grip. Something about his thrusts made you feel different. Your pussy was sounding even sloppier now, and you could feel the cord in your core tightening up all over again, but this time much more intensely. You begged and whined for him to slow down or give you just a second to recompose, yet he just encourages you to take it. Your eyes roll back again, feeling yourself starting to really, really lose it.

"Oh my god, I'm cumming!" You announce shakily, loud ah's following shortly after as the cord finally snaps. You feel like you went and blacked out as you screamed, feeling like you just peed on yourself. Hanma made you squirt like a fountain on his dick, your juices trailing down your legs and splashing a bit against your ass as he keeps stroking. "Shit baby, you're makin' such a fuckin' mess. Gonna make me cum already." He groans watching you twitch and cry. His words didn't even register to you, you could only feel as a few moments later he pulls out, cumming right on your ass.

It takes you a second to realize what even happened as you come back to your senses. Your body flops down onto the bed lazily, still shaking violently while you pant. Your body was fried, you couldn't even move, and your mind was so fuzzy. Hanma laid next to you, the two of you breathing heavily together.

Finally you looked over at him, making instant eye contact with each other with the same sex-dazed expression. There's a few seconds of silence between you, nothing but the vibey music still playing in the background.

"That was-.."

The both of you speak at the same time, making each other laugh lightly. "Lemme clean you up." He murmurs, getting up from the bed and heading over to the bathroom. You sigh deeply, wearily scooting up to rest your head on the pillows that smell just like him. Hanma comes back shortly, hovering over you and wiping you down with a warm wash cloth. Chill bumps appear all over your body, the cool air finally starting to get to you now that your body's cooled down.

"Thank you." You mutter, turning your head to look at him. He responds with a kiss, planting his lips onto yours softly. You moan tiredly, placing a hand on his cheek before you pull away. In the few moments of silence, your eyes narrow skeptically as you notice him start grinning rather deviously at you.

"What?" You finally ask.

"Wanna go for round two?" He says excitedly, climbing on top of you.

"What?!" You scoff, looking up at him absolutely dumbfounded. "You heard me." He chuckles, tossing the wash cloth somewhere random while leaning down and planting wet kisses all over your neck. He's really deadass!

"Oh hold on, wait! I-I cannot-

You cut yourself off with a gasp, feeling him place your already exhausted legs over his shoulders.

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

Hanma's grip on your ass tightens, picking up the pace as he bounces you on his cream coated dick.

"Uugh! Right there, right there! Daddyyyyy, oh my gooood!" You wail, squeezing your eyes closed as you cum for the fourth time in this position. He has you in his arms, both legs hanging over his arms as he lifts you up and down using his grip on your ass, standing near the bed.

You've never been in this position before but it instantly became a top favorite. The way it's just so nasty and loud, your skin slapping against his with every bounce. Then it's the way you're completely at his mercy, completely unable to move or get away. You're nothing but a little cock sleeve in this position, legs dangling in his strong arms as he uses you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, throwing your head back as you feel him bring you into another orgasm.

"Ah shit, I'm close." He cusses breathily, his grip tightening. Right after you he finally reaches his climax, pulling out and cumming against your achy core. He lays you down on the bed, lazily throwing himself on top of you, soft puffs of air hitting against your neck from his panting. The two of you stay like that for a while, trying to slow your heart rates down while basking in the way the the both of you completely wore each other out.

Hanma is by far the best you've ever had.

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Thank y'all so much for reading! I really threw my back into this chapter for y'all🥹 It's so encouraging to know that you guys really enjoy my stories and look forward to the next chapters. Feel free to comment any thoughts or inbox me too! I love hearing from y'all!

P.S: Don't worry I'll have Chapter 6 out next week ♡

#strawberryfairi🧚🏾‍♀️#black fem reader #shuji hanma #shuji hanma x black fem reader #shuji hanma x reader smut #shuji hanma x black fem reader smut #i threw my coochie into this #a mile away #black female reader #black female writer #smut #tokyo rev smut

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radiomogai · 14 days

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sometimes I think about all the queer people of the past who found ways to keep themselves and their communities alive- not just the ones who wrote big articles or were relatively more 'famous'. I mean each and every queer person who has in any way recorded their identity, refused to let time erase them, even if it was in the smallest way, to keep themselves and their queer community alive. all the small, different little ways that we'll never even know about all of them, those are the archivists who kept queer history alive and know we remember their contributions even if we don't know them personally? we remember it through the impact. the same is even more true for every indigenous person who has contributed to language conservation programs, to archival work of the culture colonizers never erased, only thought they did...

does it ever hit you that you are part of that legacy, that y'all are keeping the work of past 'archivists' alive? queer communities, indigenous communities, they adapt and they survive and you are a wonderful part of that legacy. y'all should be so proud of yourselves for being part of that, even if it sometimes feels pointless or small. because i'm sure there have been countless times that queer and indigenous people have felt that way too about their resistance. and I know internet blogging is of course not the same as resistance. but I think y'all should know that you are wonderful and everything you do is worth it- and not just worth it, it is part of such a beautiful legacy of you and your intersectional history. y'all continually amaze me with your dedication and I think you truly deserve to know how important y'all are and that there are queer and indigenous people who are no longer here anymore, who are proud of you for being so invested in your communities and in persevering. so I hope y'all feel that truly, you are not just blogging pointless terms, you are part of such a beautiful legacy of queer and indigenous resistance, even if it seems small. I truly love y'all, you're amazing.

This makes me want to cry, in a really, really good way.

We do think about it. We think about it a lot. We think a lot about how everything around is the result of knowledge being passed from person to person, built on each other. We think a lot about the fact that everything around us comes from people, people with loved ones, people with a favourite food, people who got songs stuck in their head and people who had moments of self-discovery and people who had to be taught everything they know by somebody else. We think about how we’re far from the first Métis person to use our sash to carry berries, we think about how a friend of ours showed us how to do it and how someone showed them and how someone spent hours on our sash and someone had to teach them how to do it and someone had to gather the materials for it. We think about labels built off of other labels and how many people have contributed to the conversations that led to words like queer and gay and xenogender being used the way they are now, how someone had to teach each of them what those words mean, how everyone has thought something different about them even if they never wrote it down. We think about how someone had to teach us how to use a computer when we were a child and how in some way that led to us learning about queerness and surrounding ourselfves in it, about how our self-discovery has led to our archival work and about how that work has led others to their own self-discovery, how they in that way are impacted by the fact that someone taught us how to use a computer. We like to follow things back as far as they will go, knowing that there’s always another step just behind the one we look at now.

The fact that we can sit here reblogging terms is thanks to coiners, is thanks to the artists who first made pride flags, is thanks to activists, is thanks to parents, is thanks to everyday people living openly as queer, is thanks to everyone who’s looked at queerphobia and said that isn’t acceptable and did something about it. The fact that we can sit here as a Métis person is thanks to our ancestors who lived and died and passed on history, is thanks to translators and mothers and grandmothers and family, is thanks to other Native bloggers, is thanks to Indigenous teenagers sharing with each other what little they know, is thanks to every Native who’s refused to cut their hair. We think about it a lot, the people who have impacted the world we’re in, who have impacted us without ever knowing it. We think about the people we’ve impacted without ever knowing it, knowing that the messages and asks we’ve received are only a small portion of those we’ve helped.

Sometimes we see tagging systems inspired by ours. People casually using words that we helped to dig up, or that we coined, or that we helped make common. It’s one of the greatest feelings we’ve ever had the privilege to experience.

#Ask #mogai-sunflowers #Long post #Kind messages #Thank you Reign. This means a lot to us.

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theromanticrationalist · 2 months

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Young Sheldon Series Finale: 7x13 Funeral

So, I was delayed in watching the finale because I actually wanted to watch it with my own Dad, but AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

😭

Damn, damn, damn, DAMN DAAAAAAAAMN!! So, that Funeral episode hit and it hit hard. (Did they really HAVE TO HAVE AN OPEN CASKET FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...ughughughughugh) The writing for that episode was the crème de la crème, and I think is the cathartic thematic climax of this series. The final episode was necessary for transitioning between YS and TBBT, which brings both stories together, but as far as the story YS was telling, Funeral was the show's end. It isn't a perfect ending and it wasn't a pretty ending, and in fact is quite devastating in so many ways, but it is truthful to Sheldon's journey, and to the human experience.

When Sheldon got up in front of the church to say a few words, playing out the scenario as he wished he had done it, that was the moment. The whole episode is Sheldon processing his grief - imperfect and messy as he has literally no tools or precedent to fall back on - as he replays his father leaving that fateful day over and over, tweaking it each time to make it "better". With a young man with an eidetic memory and a compulsive need for his reality to be orderly (and the fact that he believes in the Many-Worlds Interpretation), this would make sense. He begins be utilizing Star Trek (Spock's death) to filter it and provide context, but that no longer proves sufficient to the crushing and terrible emotions of what he is experiencing. That was a tool he used for when he was a boy, but now he has been thrust into the world of manhood in absolutely the worst way possible. What is it that will speak truest to what he is going through than the bare naked truth?

"I've been thinking a lot about the last moments I had with my Dad. It was morning and he was leaving for work. He said "See y'all later." And I said nothing. I regret that. I could have said bye. Or asked him for a ride. Or told him that I loved him, but I didn't. I barely noticed that he left. So many times that I didn't notice my father, I hope he knew how much I loved him."

From the audience's perspective we have been watching Sheldon play the scenario many times through his mind, and to have the rug pulled out from under us at this moment of all moments, to see that this too was only just a scenario (played out by Sheldon Prime), is exactly what it is like living in this world, enduring this life - not just for Sheldon but for all of us. In one of my previous posts I mentioned how I loved Sheldon Cooper's story because of what he could teach us. This episode encapsulates it in total. He can teach us that you cannot quantify life, you can't organize it so that everything makes sense and plays out in a well-structured narrative and format, where every feeling is named and every event categorized. Life is myriad, so much richer and so much fuller and so much wilder than anything we can imagine or think up on our own. It is what makes it utterly terrifying and wretched, but it is also part of its beauty and purpose. Sheldon Cooper comes to realize this, but he is only able to have this deeper understanding after first living it. Sheldon Prime's concluding narration at the end of Funeral is Sheldon Cooper's story taken as a whole - past, present, future - the life in movement. Of course young Sheldon would not experience his father's death in its completeness. He is the midst of it. He is trying to survive it. So I love the realness of Sheldon's "imperfect" response to his father's death in the fact that he didn't respond to it. He quite literally did not process it, and instead ran away from it. It is painful, brutal, but truthful. Yet that was not the end of Sheldon Cooper's story, as we know, and I think that leaves us with hope, but it is a kind of hope that must be waited for with profound patience.

Although I myself have not gone through the loss of a parent like Sheldon has, I still have gone through devastating and traumatic life events, so I am very familiar with the inexplicable and violating nature of grief and loss. I am still processing that grief and loss, so these thoughts I am sharing with you all right now are pretty recent revelations, and quite literally me living them out in real time, so it might be a little messy...hehe.

However, I will end this by saying that none of these truths mean that life is arbitrary. It doesn't mean it makes life meaningless. Just because human endeavors cannot place life within a context that he himself can first create and then comprehend, doesn't mean that life doesn't have a context and that that context can't be understood. It just means that that context comes from a different Source, an external and eternal one (and I will say, by necessity, a paternal one, but that is a thought for another day!)

Fitting then that the episode, and Young Sheldon, should end with the recitation of the Lord's prayer:

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." | Matthew 6:9-10

#welp I think this show has officially traumatized me for life #me utterly shocked right now at the level of artistry of this episode #it kind of just elevates the entire show to a whole other level #I was seriously watching this episode with tears streaming down my face #DUDE #young sheldon #sheldon cooper #I just love Sheldon Cooper so much #my poor precious baby string bean baby bean #😭😭😭#iain armitage #iain was phenomenal these last episodes #dang son #my thoughts #my sheldon cooper thoughts #young sheldon season 7 #7x13 #funeral #saving my shamy thoughts for a separate post!!!

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

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Part 24

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 23 🍂 Part 25

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Sy's big-ass family.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: @keanureevesisbae, as promised, I bring thee: Ch 24. I'm making y'all wait for 25 until I have 27 written. Sorry ❤️

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @beck07990 @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn

Jules started her little speech by thanking everyone for showing up at her engagement party, and thanking you – and Sy – for letting her use your house, which subjected you to the scorn of your mother-in-law again. Alright; subjected Sy to the scorn of his mother again. You were largely unaffected by the aforementioned scorn.

“As you may know,” Jules continued, “Pat hates being the center of attention for the whole night, and I’m a sucker for planning surprises for people.” You felt Sy tense up next to you as she said that.

“And it just so happens that someone very important to all of us…” Jules was laying the praise on thick, which Sy didn’t seem to appreciate. It took you far too long to realize where she was even going with this. “… turns thirty next week.”

Sy looked at Julie as if he wanted to shoot her straight to hell, and you sighed, as there was now officially no way you could make yourself scarce. There was singing, then another round of singing, specifically because Sy had begged everyone to stop singing, and following that had to be an attempt at the World Record for ‘most consecutive times a single person could hear the word ‘congratulations’ before going batshit crazy.’

You surprised Sy’s family with a sudden outburst of Dutchness when you congratulated Sy’s parents with Sy’s birthday, and were then forced to explain that it was a thing the Dutch did, without being able to give any kind of even half-decent reason as to why. Finding out you were Dutch also meant that a small army of kids now forced you to teach them some Dutch words, which started out cute, but soon turned into the inevitable ‘translate this swearword for me’-fiasco anyone with any braincells would have seen coming from the beginning. All in all, it took a while for things to settle down a bit again, and you were glad when the kids had disappeared back into the crowd.

“Love kids, but thirteen of them is a lot.” You said to Sy when he helped you find a place to sit down for a minute.

“I’d ask if you’re feeling any better yet, but I don’t think that whole circus really helped,” he said as he stroked a few curls out of your face and tucked them behind your ear, where they immediately escaped again, making Sy laugh. “Let me get you a drink.”

“Thanks, Sy,” you said, grabbing his hand as he got up to head to the kitchen.

While Sy was gone, you closed your eyes, and tried to ignore everyone around you, which became impossible when Mary Beth joined you on the couch.

“Lara, sweetheart, would I be a whole lot of trouble if I asked you to hold Lainey for a minute?”

“No, of course not!” You hadn’t even finished your sentence, or the little girl was in your arms.

“Thanks, honey,” Mary Beth said softly, “I love her to bits, but my arms are gettin’ sore.”

“I can imagine,” you said. Lainey was adorable. Nine months old with enormous blue eyes, and little hands and feet and… Her mom was gone. Probably off to the bathroom, but still, you prayed she’d get back just in case Lainey decided to start crying…

“Hey, how’s my favorite niece?” Sy sat down next to you and wrapped one arm around you as he tickled Lainey with the other.

“I thought I was your favorite niece, uncle Sy?” One of the other girls had heard what he said and jumped into his lap.

“Y’are,” Sy said, “and so are the twins.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the boys yelled. Suddenly, you were being ganged up on by children. It was scarier than you would have imagined.

“You’re not my niece, Johnny,” Sy answered with a smile, and the kids laughed at their uncle’s terrible joke before disappearing again.

“You said somethin’bout this lookin’ good on me, Sugar,” Sy said softly as he pressed his lips to your temple, “but I gotta admit, it looks pretty damn fine on you, too.”

You allowed yourself to get lost in that feeling for a bit. It was like a little glimpse into your future; sitting on that couch with Sy, holding a baby…

“Dammit, Sy, I want one,” you heard yourself say, although you were sure you’d never made the conscious decision to actually speak the words. In fact, you’d never thought you’d hear yourself utter a sentence like that at all. Ever. The look on Sy’s face said it all, but he doubled down on it with words.

“As many as you want, Sugar,” he said before kissing you. The loving and intimate energy of the moment was skillfully destroyed by half a dozen children yelling “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew” the moment Sy’s lips touched yours.

“Good Lord, you’d think it would traumatize them forever,” Mary Beth said after shooing the kids away. Now that her spot on the couch was taken, she sat down in the chair next to you. “I’ll take her again, if you want.” She held out her arms, but you really didn’t want to let go of Lainey just yet.

“It’s alright, she’s asleep, anyway,” you said. Mary Beth seemed more than grateful to have her hands free for a bit longer, and you didn’t mind that you got to cuddle with this cutie a little more. Besides, your stomach finally seemed to settle a little, but you still hoped that holding a sleeping baby would keep people away from you for a bit.

It all went on like that for quite some time, and by the time people started leaving, you’d been praying they would for at least three hours. Sy was merciless in kicking his brothers – who were now fairly drunk – out of the house, and with them gone, peace was restored. Wait, no. Scratch that: quiet was restored. Peace, to you, was a house that didn’t look like a miniature tornado had ripped through it.

“Take a shower and go to bed, Sugar,” Sy said. He could clearly tell you still weren’t feeling very well – and he was one hundred per cent right about that, it’s just that you’d much rather he join you for both of those activities. “I’m gonna help Jules clean up this mess.” Jules didn’t look too thrilled that she was being roped into cleaning duty – something she had surely hoped to avoid by not hosting this party herself, but you knew she wasn’t so stupid as to actually expect she’d be let go just like that. Even with Sy’s mom doing you the courtesy of stacking the dishwasher before she left, there was still plenty to be done.

“Since when does your family leave deviled eggs uneaten?” Jules asked while she carried a plate with two sad-looking eggs back to the kitchen. “Lara, want one?” As soon as she held the plate out to you, you stepped back. Julie made a whole scene out of pointing out you loved deviled eggs – as if you’d forget that – but with your stomach as upset as it was right now, they just made you feel sick.

“Let her go upstairs, Jules,” Sy said. There was definitely some irritation in his voice, and you were one hundred percent sure he wanted Jules and Pat out of the house as soon as humanly possible, so he could get to bed, too. “She’s not feeling well. Just… help me clean up my damn house.”

Jules followed his orders immediately, which was a very un-Jules thing to do, and you made your way upstairs. First stop: bathroom. The thought of a hot shower was almost excruciatingly appealing to you right now.

#syverson x ofc #syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson fluff #cpt syverson #syverson fic #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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axewchao · 11 months

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Komari and Lilac, Revali and Rito!Dallie's hypothetical children that were originally thought up back in 2020. I don't know what compelled me to give them complete designs, but I went and did it!

But since y'all are more familiar with Rito!Dalex, I guess we can say that they're his kids too. How would they be brought into the world if the parents in question were both guys? Hell if I know. I mean if same-sex couples can have kids from praying to a friggin' tree in Rune Factory 5, then maybe there's some other magicky method for those in Hyrule. The wonders of fantasy, ladies and gentlemen! :D

Komari takes after Rito!Dal/Dallie in his chosen hobby and in Dallie's case, feather color. He loves reading and writing all kinds of stories and has a knack for making tales up on the fly, purely for the sake of entertainment. The idea of actually reading them to others, however... yeah he's not gonna do that just yet. Not to the adults, anyway; younger fledglings always find a way to convince him to read to them.

Hint: they know they art of puppy dog eyes XD

Between the two of them, Komari inherited the "special sight" that's passed down Dal/Dallie's family. What 'unseen' thing can he see? Magic trails. Most notably, the kind you leave behind when you turn invisible/teleport a short distance. If you leave a trail, Komari will be able to follow it until the magic itself fades from the area. Basically the magic equivalent of following someone's scent. He first discovered this ability while chasing some Blupees with his sister.

Lilac is the spitting image of her dear dad... in that she may very well be as stubborn as he is, but is much sweeter about it. Basically, she's stubborn for the sake of others rather than herself. You need some Rushrooms from those cliffs? She's on it. You need the Swift Violets too? No problem! A Moblin and a small band of Bokoblins are coming too close to the village? Give her a sword and she's going in! Tired? No, she's not tired, she's got this!

Hint: She's tired. Get her big bro or parents before she passes out, please.

While Komari is interested in the realm of fiction, Lilac is drawn to the realm of facts. In other words, she's a history nerd. The first history tidbit she ever learned was that her big bro's name comes from the name of an ancient Rito Prince. Learning about the prince turned to learning about the Sage that was once his dearest friend, whose name was the inspiration behind Vah Medoh, and... yeah she went to goddamn town on that subject. And if anyone's willing to listen, she could go on for what feels like hours. =w="

It's unknown if Lilac also inherited a form of "special sight" like her brother. But on the other wing, she's considered asking her dad to teach her how to use Revali's Gale. Rev's just waiting for those words to come out of either kids' beaks.

...Please. He's always wanted to teach his Gale to his own children. ;w;

#botw #loz botw #Rito #Komari Rathmore #Lilac Rathmore #only giving them last names so they don't get lost in tags of other peeps named komari and pics of lilacs =w=#also I mentioned Komari's older but not by how much:#he's a year older than Lilac #but once they're adults it's Lilac who ends up tallest XD #axewchaoscribbles

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bradsthorn · 9 months

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WONDER OF YOU | B.B. X FEMALE OC

Chapter 1: The Wonder of You

Summary: Nicolette 'Wildcard' Mitchell was shocked to get called back to North Island. Her track record was not exactly clean and most certainly not one that most would celebrate. Then she sees Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw again. Maybe it won't be all bad.

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol, Flashbacks to Top Gun 86, Broken Family dynamics

Word Count: 2.6K

Author Note: Hey y'all this fic is my baby and I'm excited to share this with y'all. This is cross-listed on AO3!

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

“Wood.. I barely got out of being grounded, just to be sent to Top Gun. It has to be some sort of cruel punishment.” The girl was huffing as she stuffed another shirt into her bag. Nicolette Mitchell a.k.a. Wildcard, lived up to both her callsign and last name in ways that made her commanding officers grimace upon seeing her assigned to them.

“ Or it’s for something important. They don’t just call people back like that for punishment, Nic.” The older male was shaking his head as he responded. He had basically adopted the girl — she had been his favorite kid of the class of 86’s, not that he didn’t like Bradley, but there was a special place in his heart for the brunette girl.

“Yeah, because they send Maverick to new places for important things.” Nicolette was letting a laugh fall as she heard Hollywood hush his husband.

“No, no.. Wolf is right. They sent Maverick to .. well, anywhere he’s been sent simply because he pissed off an Admiral. Not that I did.” There was a snort being heard over the phone and then an ‘ow!’ shortly after,

“Nic.. did you piss off an Admiral?”

“Technically, yes. But my wingman needed me, it wasn’t my fault they didn’t fill my fuel tank up all the way.” This was a common occurrence for the girl, her wingmen, and team were always first, aircraft and herself second. So be it if it got her in trouble she valued people over the jets they were in. One lesson Maverick had been able to teach her is that your teammates are not replaceable, the jets are no matter what the Navy says.

“So.. you pulled a Maverick?” There were a few seconds of silence before the two males could hear her zipping up the bag.

“No. I was being a good teammate. He doesn’t know what that’s like.” There was some poison in her words, and it was clear as day to the pilot and his RIO that the relationship between the girl and her father had not gotten better.

“I.. okay, Nic. Just.. let us know when you get here, we’d like to see you, kid.” If there was one thing Hollywood knew, it was that whatever waited for the woman on North Island, he would have pieces to pick up.

“I will. Love ya’ll.” Once the couple had responded, she was hanging up and tossed her bag into her Thunderbird.

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Nicolette Duke Mitchell had been accustomed to being moved around a lot, at least until she needed a stable place to be able to attend school. Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, the man that was her second father; pops as she called him, was able to stay stationary for her. While Maverick was being sent to Iraq, Bosnia, and wherever else the Navy sent him, Iceman was staying at Top Gun, raising the almost carbon copy of his wingman. Thankfully, some of the rest of the 86 class was able to pitch in. Or they at least kept her busy when they’d visit. And of course, Carole. Seeing as the two had gotten so close over the short amount of time they had together while their dads were in Top Gun, Carole couldn’t possibly keep Bradley away from Nicolette. There were plenty of phone calls, where the two toddlers mirrored each other; being sat on the counter with their respective parents keeping them steady, just chatting away like they had much to talk about. But they could do it for hours and each call ended with a “bye bradbrad.” and “bye ni.” Nic visited Brad and Carole in Tennessee for plenty of weeks in the summer and Brad would visit Nic in San Diego whenever he was able. Until he was in Maverick’s custody and then he was living with her and Ice.

Iceman had done his best to keep the girl in contact with her father. And he pulled strings whenever necessary to get Maverick home to her. But, almost like clockwork, he was pissing off whichever admiral or higher up he could and getting sent away. What originally was described to the girl as ‘the Navy just needs him right now.’ transpired into a festering grudge towards her father – one that faded each time he came home, but grew the second he left again.

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The Hard Deck, something you weren’t supposed to go below. That was Navy law, and anything below the hard deck was dangerous, it could damage the aircraft. This hard deck though? Could damage a person’s wall that they had spent much of their adult life building, or cause cracks in a facade. But it also held a lot of memories from the time spent in Top Gun. Something that was cherished among those that attended, and it was the best bar to go to attempt to score a free drink.

The brunette was shutting the door to her car, a small sigh being given as she witnessed all of the other pilots entering the bar. She knew what that meant; she wasn’t getting grounded. Just a slight possibility of being sent to her death. Which, she figured the Navy wouldn’t bat an eye at, it would achieve their goal, keep the Mitchells out of the sky and run them out of the Navy. Her digits ran through her hair for a second, checking it in her mirror when her eyes fixed on the blue Bronco parked a few spots down. Holy shit. She hadn’t seen the owner of that Bronco since two deployments ago. There was almost a hop in her step as she stepped into the loud building, an easily recognizable song on the jukebox.

If you’re lookin’ for trouble, you came to the right place.

She shook her head, what a song to be playing when she came in. The people at Top Gun had thought she was trouble, and any higher-up that she had would probably agree with that statement. There were three people in the bar that wouldn’t agree with it; one that she hadn’t seen yet; and that was known by the fact she was still in the bar. The second was already smiling as she noticed her, sliding a beer down to her; amazed the girl hadn’t recognized the male a few feet away. And then;

My daddy was a green-eyed mountain jack.

“Mitchell… You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Hangman. A man Nicolette knew well, but despised just as much.

“Seresin.” There was a beat. Lips parted as she shook her head at him. It was clear that whatever this was, it was serious. Otherwise, there would’ve been no need for the number of patches she was seeing. Nicolette watched the male grab his beers and nod to someone behind her, the person paying for their drinks, she assumed. Then against her better judgment, she followed the blonde back to the group. Her eyes stuck on the Hawaiian shirt that she had entered the bar searching for. But, Hangman beat her to having the first word with him once he had changed the song.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

“Hangman… You look… good.”

“Well, I am good, Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” Nic let a quiet scoff out, head shaking. She had taken a seat at a stool behind Brad, not wanting to get in the middle of it. This wasn’t her fight, at least not yet.

“So, anybody know what this special detachment is all about?” Nic’s brows furrowed at the man who spoke. She only knew a select few of the pilots around the pool table.

“No, mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me.” His ego hadn’t changed apparently.

“What I want to know: Who’s gonna be team leader?” Her eyes followed the pool balls that clattered together.

“And which one of yall has what it takes to follow me?” There it was. His ego was bigger than the state he came from.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” The woman had to take a sip of her beer to keep from chuckling loudly. Eyes meeting those of a male across the pool table, he had glasses and seemed to be the quieter one, seeing as the two on either side of him, one whom she knew; Coyote, who typically couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and the other who let a low “whoo!” out at the comment, obviously were loving this interaction. The one with the glasses was not.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel.” Nicolette was getting close to stepping in,

“But that’s just you, ain’t it Rooster?” Her body inched closer to standing.

“You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment…” And she was up, body moving quietly to stand behind the male. Hangman’s eyes trailed from the taller male to land on Nic. Almost as if his next words were for both of them,

“That never comes.” There it was. His eyes had locked back on Brad’s after, Nic noted the small smirk that grew on Hangman’s lips. She was going to have to make herself known to Brad now.

“Y’know Hangman, you don’t have to compensate for your lack of… well, size right now.” Head tilting, with a small smirk growing as she watched the blonde falter for a split second before his lips were moving back to his signature smirk.

“If you wanna see how wrong you are, let me know Wildcard.” Winking at her, earning a scoff, as his attention turned back to Rooster,

“I love this song.” And then the pair watched him walk off. Bradley’s eyes finally landed on the girl.

“Ni..” It was like he let his body relax for a second, he didn’t have to be on guard with her. He was safe with her.

“Hey, Bradbrad…” Then arms were wrapped around her, bringing her into his chest, he didn’t know how long to hold onto her but at the moment? Time had stopped anyway so it didn’t matter. And neither could see the way the simple action between them had caused someone else’s world to stop, Maverick hadn’t seen the two of them together in years, and as he took in the Hawaiian shirt on the male’s body and arms wrapping around the female in a brightly colored red and orange shirt, it was like going back thirty years. The sight caused his heart to ache. Then Bradley’s arms were removed as he looked to the other girl who had joined them, but a hand had found its way to rest on Nicolette’s back. Maverick’s eyes burned into the pair, and for Nicolette, the fact her hair was sticking up on the back of her neck had more to do with the group of people in front of her who, while they may know her or know of her, most likely already wouldn’t want her around. Her reputation and last name — something that always held more significance than her — always preceded her.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” Nic’s brows rose as she looked over the other girl, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. Of course, she knew her, although there was a small negative feeling festering in her stomach as she took her in. Nicole couldn’t put into words what that feeling was, but it was prominent.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” There was a small part of his accent lingering at the end of his statement, which made her lips curl up at the edges.

“Change is a foreign concept to him.” Nicolette let the words fall, almost as if she had to prove her existence. Needed to prove something, what it was? She couldn’t tell anyone. But there was a nod given her way by Phoenix, which caused her to feel settled until more voices joined them.

“Check it out.” The group’s eyes flickered away from the pool table to focus on the entrance, “More patches.” Nicolette knew what that meant, that whatever was happening wouldn’t be good.

“That’s Harvard, Yale, Ohama. Shit, that’s Fritz.” Wildcard’s green hues followed after the group and her lips pursed for a second as she scoffed, head shaking.

“What the hell kind of mission is this?” Her brow rose at the male, Garcia was what he’d be known by until she knew his callsign, thank the US Military for name badges.

“A suicide mission,” Nicolette mumbled, causing eyes to land on her as she mindlessly played on her phone. The other pilots around them turned to her, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think twice about what she had said, if anything she knew she was right. They don’t call back this many pilots for something any less serious than that.

ICEDAD

ICE.

Nic.

You’ll never guess where I am.

North Island?

This is why I don’t play guessing games with you

But… so is half of the goddamn navy

That’s an exaggeration.

Okay? And? It’s still a lot of people.

And?

Brad is here.

I know.

So you knew i was here?

Got briefed on it.

Someone else is there though.

And the conversation was over once Nic heard the bell ring. Either someone else was paying for their drinks or

“OVERBOARD! OVERBOARD! OVERBOARD!” The girl’s head tilted, phone slipping back into her pocket as she shook her head, eyes locking with Bradley’s at the piano. It was second nature for her to find her way to the instrument. She had spent so many years with the male just hanging out while he played or learned to play.

The toddler was kicking her feet in her father’s lap. Her head tilted to the side as she watched the two blonde women on the other side of her. Nicolette had very little patience in her tiny body and barely sat still - as would be expected from Maverick’s kid. Her fingers wrapped around a fry, that quickly went flying to hit the woman in a white blouse. Giggles were fast to leave tiny lips afterward, Maverick himself having to fight off a laugh. Then once Carole – who Nic adored – had smiled at her, Nic was done and trying to wiggle out of Maverick’s hold. She wanted to go sit with the guy at the piano with the colorful shirt. She liked him a whole lot, he would put her in the sky when he picked her up, and he flew her around sometimes, she loved it. Not to mention the kid on top of the piano who was her newfound best friend. Finally, her dad was heading over there with her, setting her down on the bench to stand, Nic’s hands reaching to try to grab the hat off of the piano – Goose’s hat, but one hand was grabbed by her father to twirl her – as carefully as possible, as the two men sang;

“You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain…”

Bradley had an arm wrapped around the woman’s waist as his fingers created the familiar tune on the piano; Nic let a soft laugh out as he glanced up at her with a mischievous twinkle in his puppy dog browns,

“Thinkin’ ‘bout your love drives a man insane, you broke my will, oh what a thrill, goodness, gracious, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!”

The two were a splitting image of something Maverick had never thought he’d see again, and now watching the group of young pilots around the piano and the two on the bench, there was no way he couldn’t teach this mission. They had to come home. If not for him or the families any of them may have had, they had to come home for each other.

credit: I don't own any characters but Nicolette Mitchell, and any other OCs that may appear and their storylines. I have no affiliation with Top Gun or Top Gun: Maverick. All rights go to the rightful owners.

Tag list: @toracsanji

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tokudocu · 1 year

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I will reiterate my stance, I won’t be reblogging any posts that are contrary to my takes, however, I will still respond, so to speak, to those posts but without mentioning or interacting with anyone at all.

I’ll borrow Ace’s line in the current episode, I cannot force the change on them.

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#However I can't bring myself to sympathize with him #the second he decided to leave any and all morals he had behind #and work for the frog Yakuza that believes suffering builds character# which it doesn't btw #and then decided to also work for the guy who *explicitly* makes endings that kill everyone he knows and cares for #is when he loses my sympathy #not to mention he *had* to have figured his plan would backfire #did his first game teach him nothing? #not everyone is like him or ace or neon #ugh I do enjoy geats but if I can level with you Keiwa fans #I cannot see why y'all do anymore# 'What about Michinaga?' hes an asshole and a hypocrite yes #he even admits to it iirc #however at least he doesn't actively engage in victim blaming and pretend to be more selfless than he really is #Both of which Keiwa has done both at the beginning of this arc and throughout the show

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Let’s tackle these issues one by one.

#However I can't bring myself to sympathize with him #the second he decided to leave any and all morals he had behind. Yes, he has no qualms killing, and he now wants to have what he wants at all costs the same as everyone in the Previous DGP. The same as Buffa who went on a killing spree/watched people fall to their deaths just to get his Crushing Rider wish. The same as Geats who used Keiwa as a fodder to get the Ninja buckle the first time. Why does this double standard exist for Keiwa. Its alright for Geats and Buffa to get their wishes at all costs, at the cost of Keiwa’s life but somehow its abhorrent that he acts the same way as they once did? Besides, he hasn’t killed. If by “abandoning morals” you mean him kidnapping Tsumuri, then sure but so far that is the only crime he’s committed unlike Buffa who was complicit in the death of thousands during the Heaven or Hell Game. And no, even if they were revived, which they weren’t, he was still complicit in their deaths.

#and work for the frog Yakuza that believes suffering builds character# which it doesn't btw #and then decided to also work for the guy who *explicitly* makes endings that kill everyone he knows and cares for #is when he loses my sympathy #not to mention he *had* to have figured his plan would backfire #did his first game teach him nothing? #not everyone is like him or ace or neon First off, Keiwa’s wish WOULDN’T HAVE AND SHOULDN’T HAVE backfired. Because of two reasons.. Resurrected Riders do not have their ID cores, Drivers, and Raise Buckles by the time they were revived. Which would also mean, resurrected Riders shouldn’t have their memories of the DGP by the time they were revived. We’ve seen this play out before, Keiwa himself was resurrected by Kekera and Beroba through Kekera’s wish, Keiwa himself did not know Kekera when he should have, which means he did not have his DGP-related memories. Another instance is when Sara called Keiwa after she and her parents were revived. She referred to Turbon as “a weird masked guy” if she had her memories of the DGP, she would have referred to the attacker as a “Rider” instead of “weird masked guy”. Lastly, Keiwa’s current words should have clued everyone in on Keiwa’s mental and emotional state. He couldn’t believe in Ace and he doesn’t know how else would he get his family back if he won’t work to get it through Tsumuri and Jitt? (I’m guessing Ace is only reviving Sara and leave the Sakurai parents for dead)

'What about Michinaga?' hes an asshole and a hypocrite yes #he even admits to it iirc #however at least he doesn't actively engage in victim blaming and pretend to be more selfless than he really is #Both of which Keiwa has done both at the beginning of this arc and throughout the show Did you just praise murderer and manslaughterer and complicit to a thousand deaths Michinaga Azuma because he doesn’t engage in “victim blaming”? That is wild, you praised a murderer just because he admits to being a hypocrite and doesn’t blame anyone (when he actively blamed ALL RIDERS FOR TOHRU’S DEATH) Keiwa’s not pretending to be selfless. His wish has been rooted in selfishness, the “peaceful world” he so wants is for his sister. That is as selfish as someone gets, as Kekera says, he’s a hypocrite.

What’s evidently clear is how people do not know how to empathize with others be it real people or characters because they fail to empathize with Keiwa’s circumstances and instead continue to blame him for things outside of his control, just like how they claim Keiwa’s doing to Mitsume.

#kamen rider geats #sakurai keiwa #azuma michinaga

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maryellencarter · 2 years

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so i don't actually know where i'm going with this one. it's oh-dark-thirty in the morning and i have work in an obnoxiously brief period of time, but i just washed my hair and i'm waiting for it to dry and having complicated thoughts vaguely related to gender shit.

so to start where i think i started this evening, there was a post on my dash linking lupin iii to watership down, the "prince of a thousand enemies" quote. which is a perfectly reasonable and in fact excellent quote to apply to him. lupin is not in fact relevant here, at least for now.

i read watership down when i was eight. this is because, as any of y'all who have picked up enough about my childhood will know, the stupidity of people who think all books about bunnies are for children is far stronger than any attempted point-making by an author trying to write a book about rabbits that people are not supposed to think is for children.

(not, to be clear, *my* stupidity. i was a very obedient right-wing child. i only read Approved books. this goes to show that censorship is fundamentally impossible, because nobody can actually read every book themselves, and the kinds of content and ideas that sneak in when you're sharing around lists of Approved books will vary wildly. especially, but not only, when the person masterminding the censorship is an idiot with no judgment of their own.)

i was an extremely sensitive eight-year-old. i did not behead barbies or hold witch's sabbaths. mostly i did my schoolwork, endured my mother's constant attempts at shipping me with her friends' sons, tried not to smile or cry because unauthorized emotions got me in trouble, and read a lot, because if you teach your two-year-old to read as a flex, you continue to have a child that can and will read. i hadn't quite had the reading level to make sense of jane eyre at four, but i could follow watership down at eight just fine.

being a very sensitive child, i did not enjoy watership down. i had nightmares about the black rabbit of inlé. being a child who was also being forced to memorize poetry at a great rate (another parental flex), i recognized that it was an extraordinarily well-written book on a prosody level -- as we may notice, the "prince with a thousand enemies" bit has stuck with me for decades. every so often i ponder rereading it, as i would probably enjoy it a lot more now, and almost certainly discover some shit about the roots of my ongoing thing for psychopomps.

the reason i haven't reread it yet, and this is where gender and also possibly the point of the rest of the post comes in, if it's going to have a point, is -- and this bugged me as a kid too, although i didn't have the words to express it until much later -- two linked facts. (1) the protagonists, the group of rabbits who escape the destruction of their warren, are all male. this on its own was very normal to me. boys have adventures. when girls are protagonists you get "jane eyre". this much was obvious to eight-year-old me.

(2) the second half of the book is about the quest of the male rabbits to find lady rabbits with whom to populate a new warren. fine, whatever, i had multiple younger siblings and a reasonably accurate idea of where they had come from (and that i myself was required to produce grandchildren as soon as i was deemed old enough and could be paired off with a suitable young man). what bugged me, though, is that the main plot of the second half of the book revolves around a weird cultlike warren where all the female rabbits are kept as... well, sex slaves, to be a little less than dainty about it... and around the basically guerrilla/spy strategies the protagonist rabbits use against the male cult leaders/guards to try to acquire the macguffin, which is the lady rabbits. i don't remember if any of the lady rabbits even had names. if they had opinions on being acquired by a different warren, none of those stuck with me.

what stuck with me was that, a little more obviously than most of the things i was reading where female characters merely didn't exist, to be female was to be a non-character. a baby-making machine on wheels.

so that's that for when i was eight. the rest of this is more recently. i've tried, a few times, especially when i've been female, to read books that do have female protagonists having adventures, or that were formative for cis female friends, or whatever. i bounce off them hard. because what i've found, and i'm not saying this is all that's out there, but what i've found is that being a female adventure protagonist keeps trying to address the whole overcoming misogyny thing. you're the first female whatever to have this sort of adventure, or you're tomboyish and bad at handicrafts because that's how the author explains that you're brave enough or badass enough to be allowed to have an adventure, or some other explanation of why An Girl is allowed to be an adventure protagonist After All. you can't ever just get to the friggin adventure like every single male adventure protagonist ever.

and i just. i don't even know if this fucking exists. i'm aromantic. i don't want a love interest. and i don't want a story that has to remind me i'm considered lesser. i want the kind of stories i can have when i'm a boy. but nobody writes those for girls, that i know of, because if you're not adding a girl to say something about romance or misogyny, there's no point in making the protagonist a girl. :P

(do real girls even want those? i don't fucking know. one thing that eats at me a *lot* about being aromantic is that even when i want to be a girl, i just feel really outcast from everything girls are supposed to be about, because romance is basically a requirement. off the top of my head, mary friggin poppins is still the only adult female protagonist i can think of who doesn't get a love interest inflicted on her.)

(of course my mother ships mary/bert. she is Wrong. she is categorically wrong about everything but some things are wronger than others.)

where the fuck was i? i don't know. mass effect. take mass effect, where 99% of the dialogue and story is the same if your player character is male or female, just reskinned. still goes out of its way to put a few choice bits of Overcoming Misogyny in hard-to-avoid story places if you play female. (also here's an entire species of hot blue chicks that's described in text as wise revered politicians and portrayed almost exclusively as strippers and hookers. but that's... like, that's practically background radiation for scifi at this point. it's the parts where they visibly went to extra work to remind me a girl player character can't just have the same respect as a guy that get to me.)

do i have a point here? probably not entirely. it's god-fuck-why in the morning and i haven't slept. but... i mean. you know. i'm genderfluid. a lot of the time i'm a guy. sometimes i'm a girl. a LOT more often than i actually manage to call myself a girl, i'm... sort of sitting on the steps looking over there, kinda wishing maybe i was, but feeling like -- like why the hell would i even *want* to be something that, in all the personal experience i've got, only exists to make stories be about people i don't want to be.

#gonna try this not rebloggable thing #this probably needs some tags but idk

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peonyblossom · 1 year

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16 and 20 for the baby prompts, Jackie and Thomas pls 💞

The Universe Gave Y'all to Me

Book: Red Carpet Diaries Pairing(s): Thomas Hunt x nb!MC (Jackie Winters) Other Character(s): Avery Hunt Words: 562 Category: Domestic fluff Rating: GeneralAO3 link here Summary: When Jackie struggles to bring a smile to her daughter's face, she realized all she had really wanted was her daddy. A/N: for @choicespride Valentine's Day Event - "pregnancy/baby" & @choicesficwriterscreations Valentine's Day 2023

The door opened, but Jackie didn’t notice. Old school country music was playing through the speakers, the kind of music she listened to when she was a kid. She was dancing around the front room with her daughter, Avery, in her arms, trying to get her to break a smile. She had finally stopped crying, but she still didn’t seem happy. Jackie had checked all the usuals, but nothing seemed amiss. Thomas, who had just come through the door, smiled immediately upon seeing his wife and daughter together. He put down the grocery bags he was holding and walked over to them.

“Hi, Daddy.” Jackie takes Avery’s hand and waves it up and down, since she was too little to know to do it herself. “Can you say ‘hi, Daddy’?”

“You know she can’t,” Thomas laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, well, someday she will. And she will learn early because we will teach her, right?” Jackie booped Avery’s nose. “We’re gonna teach you? Yeah, we will.” Jackie sighed. Despite her efforts, Avery was still not smiling. “She seems upset, but I can’t figure out why.” Jackie frowned.

“I’m sure she’s just tired.” Thomas held his arms out to take the baby from Jackie.

“Maybe, but usually she would have just fallen asleep in my arms by now.” Jackie handed the baby over to Thomas. “Ugh, I’m overthinking this aren’t I?” She was aware of the heightened anxiety that had come along with becoming a parent. As if her anxiety wasn’t heightened enough already.

Thomas started bouncing Avery causing her to immediately break into a smile. He hadn’t been gone that long, but it was long enough for her to miss him and Jackie could see that.

“Did you just want your daddy?” Jackie said, smiling. “Next time we’re getting the groceries delivered.”

Thomas smiled as he tickled Avery’s tummy, causing her to burst into giggles. They would never get used to that sound, never take it for granted. Each laugh was a little different and each one symbolized a new, wonderful experience for Avery. Both Jackie and Thomas knew how precious those experiences could be and they wanted their daughter to have as many as humanly possible.

“You keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll put the groceries away.” Jackie picked up the bags Thomas had left on the floor and took them into the kitchen. Although Thomas and Avery were now out of her sight, she could still hear the periodic laughter coming from the other room.

When she reentered, she found Thomas sitting on the couch still holding Avery, who was still smiling. She sat next to them and laid her head against his shoulder, looking down at Avery’s adorable face. “Are you daddy’s little girl? Yeah? I get it; he’s pretty great.”

“Your mommy’s pretty great too, you know,” Thomas said to Avery.

Jackie smiled. She couldn’t be more in love. With her husband, with her daughter, with the family she had created for herself. She chose this. She chose them. She found them, she loved them, and she chose them. They were going to be a part of her for the rest of her life. No matter what happened, how things changed, how they stayed the same, her love for them would be everlasting. Nothing could change that no matter how hard it tried. The universe was on her side.

#red carpet diaries #thomas hunt x jackie winters #thomas hunt #jackie winters #avery hunt

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southernbrainspiders · 2 years

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Seven Years Later

Hey, y'all. So here's a final post for anyone who's still following this blog -- I expect that, over the past seven years, nearly everyone who used to follow it has left, but there might be a few still around, so I just wanted to put this here.

If you're trying to remember who this is, I used to blog about my experiences working the graveyard shift at a gas station in Mississippi. I was an angry 20-something misanthrope who had left my grad-school program due to various conflicts and was working at a gas station while I tried to figure out what to do next. I had a lot of complaints about the customers (because, you know, it was retail, and customers really are pretty terrible even when you're not bitter and misanthropic already). The blog kind of trailed off when I got a secondary-school teaching certification and landed a job teaching 11th/12th-grade English at a school in the next county over -- because, of course, it just wouldn't be right to talk about my students in a public forum.

Anyway, I’m kind of back, just not on this blog, so I thought I’d give anyone still around an update on the last seven years of my life and where you can find me now. Oh, and this probably goes without saying, but I will deny all knowledge of this blog. I look back on my younger self and cringe, as I think we all do, and would prefer to leave that here -- I've matured, I like to think, and all that angry misanthropy is much more contained now, rather than just flailing around undirected.

So I wasn't at the high school long before I left that too. The turnaround was actually extremely quick -- by October, I was filling out applications to return to grad school. There were a few reasons for this, which I'll enumerate, but it all really boils down to the fact that I wasn't a cultural fit. (This was originally basically an essay in itself, but I'm trimming it down to a bulleted list.)

This was a school that did not believe in education except as it pertained to test scores. My job was 50% babysitter, 40% prison guard, and 10% ACT Prep. There was a weird current of anti-intellectualism among the faculty, and that carried over to the students.

The prison guard thing isn't as much of an exaggeration as I would like -- my morning duty was helping keep the students kettled in the auditorium until the first bell rang, because the administration didn't trust them to be out in the halls. I had to accompany my class to the cafeteria to make sure they sat in their assigned seats and didn't make too much noise.

On a related note, several members of the faculty frequently bemoaned the fact that corporal punishment had been recently banned from the school system. (Our student rosters still had a column on them indicating which parents had given permission for the school to hit their kids.) They pretty casually talked about the fact that the parents still did that part at home, though, describing things that, where I grew up, would have been called child abuse.

One of my duties was to teach students to write for basically the first time ever -- a writing section had been added to one of the tests, so it had to be incorporated into the curriculum now. Because, of course, since it hadn't been on the tests before, the school had been just not teaching writing at all. Students were very against the concept of writing assignments.

This was a very conservative and very religious area. I'm neither of those things. A standard "getting to know you" question was "what church do you go to?" Faculty meetings started with a prayer session. I didn't try to hide my lack of religion, and even tried to use it as a teaching moment when students asked about it, breaking down the word "agnosticism" to its roots and affixes. A number of students decided I needed to be Saved and started trying to witness to me or whatever you call it.

Between the backlash to the writing assignments (seriously, the students hated those to a degree that shocked me) and my general status as a cultural outsider, a number of the students developed a severe dislike of me. And it was a small town, so they quickly found out where I lived. Within the first month, my home was egged thrice and my tires slashed once. This was when I started filling out grad-school applications.

It was an intensely stressful experience, is what I'm saying. I should have picked up on the red flag when I noticed I was one of... I think half a dozen? new teachers that year. (There were at least four, but I can't quite remember the number.) It was a small school; the turnover rate was just insane. Most of the others left before the year even ended -- in fact, one of my students told me that I was the first high school English teacher they'd had that lasted the whole year. The new math teacher just packed up her classroom and left one day, no notice or anything. The only new hire that stayed for the next year was actually an alumnus of the high school in question and thus was already part of the community & didn't have much adapting to do.

I stayed for the whole year because I needed the money; if I'd had a spouse's income to fall back on like most of the other new teachers did, I probably would have left mid-year too. It was hellish and I was basically in a constant state of mental breakdown. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried in school multiple times -- never in front of the students, thankfully, but once in front of the principal. I decided that even if I didn't get into another graduate program, I had to leave this place because it was turning me into a person I didn't like -- I was starting to yell at students for acting up, which is just intolerable.

Luckily, I did get accepted into a couple programs. One of them offered funding and a TA position, so I took it without a second thought even though it meant starting over as an MA student. (So now I have two Master's degrees, one in English Literature and one in English Language, which is extremely redundant.) I moved across the country to Indiana.

Turns out I'm actually a pretty good teacher at the college level. When I can focus on education rather than babysitting, I can genuinely thrive. Most of my students still weren't that interested in learning English -- I was teaching a freshman-year writing class -- because it's a STEM-focused university and the humanities are barely tolerated, but just the fact that they actually want to be at the school and have some motivation to learn makes all the difference. I got multiple awards from the department based on student evaluations.

My TA position expired at the end of last year, because I was supposed to finish my PhD and graduate, but my dissertation is still in progress. (My mental health is still pretty shaky, but that's just the baseline of who I am as a person, not the result of the environment I'm in this time... it leads to me not being as productive as I probably should be.) I was able to get a position working for the university library instead, though, so that's where I am now.

As a side project, I do a podcast, The Maniculum, where a friend and I read, discuss, and joke about medieval literature, then try to adapt it to TTRPG games. We have a small audience of a few hundred, but I think it's going quite well. I've been managing our Twitter presence, and as Twitter started looking like it might go down, I saw a lot of jokes about people fleeing back to Tumblr. This struck a chord of nostalgia within me, and yesterday I went & made us a Tumblr account. I haven't posted anything there yet -- I'm planning to do an introduction post later today -- but if anyone reading this wants to go follow it and see what happens, it's @maniculum.

And, for anyone who does go there to check it out, remember: if you knew me as Southern Brain Spiders, no you didn't.

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