#don't accuse me of overthinking it. of course I'm overthinking it.

[luna-loveboop]

Thinking about how I always assumed Twilight and Wars' relationship was pretty lighthearted with the teasing, and then I saw Jojo's tags of an older post describe them as the rivals

link(heh)

That small comment of hers has entirely consumed my brain. 'the rivals'. What did she mean by that?

[voxslays]

Angel’s “Goodie Two Shoes.”

Warnings >>> A lil angst, swearing.

(This almost took up three entire pages on google docs. lol.)

It was an average Tuesday in hell. Everyone at the hotel was socializing, until Angel walked in. That's when the fighting began.

“That's bullshit. You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Husk points at Pentious. “That one. That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep!” Husk gestures at Charlie next. “Princess, is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everybody else's problems 'cept her own.” He rolls his eyes. The others try to deny the accusations. ​​”And you!” Husk scoffs as he looks at Angel. “Don't get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.” Angel moves closer to Husk. “You weren't kidding! Oh ho, wow! Kittens got claws~” He aggressively flirts. “Angel. Enough.” You try to de-escalate the situation. Husk visibly stiffens. “Awww~ Are you jealous?~” He flirts, putting his hands on you.

“Angel. I'm serious. Stop.” You shut him down. “This is hell baby, what did you expect? Flowers?” He says in his thick Brooklyn accent. “You’re making everyone here, including myself uncomfortable! Stop!” You raise your voice to just below a yell. “You know what? Fuck you. I don't give a shit what some drunk ass bartender,” he motions to husk, and then to you, “or some goodie-goodie thinks a' me.” Angel was trying to hide the hurt he felt from your rejection by putting on some ‘classy’ sunglasses. “So why don't you just crawl back to whatever cave you came from, porn critics”. Husk growls annoyed at his comment as Angel flips both of you off, with all four of his hands.

You angrily stomp up to your room and slam the door shut. Charlie pokes her head into the hallway, hearing the door slam and a cry. Her affectionate instincts flare within her, she walks to the room and knocks on the door. “Hey….Y/N? Are you okay?” She asks, a tone of concern in her voice. “I'm fine..” You wipe your tears. “Please go away.” *Charlie frowns, worried. This was the second time something like this is happening. Charlie gently puts a hand on the door. No you're not. You're crying,” She pauses. “Can you please let me in?” She asks gently. Charlie waits for a response, shifting her feet as worry and concern fill her heart. She doesn't like when people are upset, especially in her own hotel. She gently knocks again. “Please?” You open the door. Charlie wastes no time in throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. She can feel her own heart breaking that yet another person is crying. 

“Angel called me a ‘goodie two shoes’…is that true?” You say through your tears. Charlie pulls back, gently taking your face in her hands. “Of course not! You're not a ‘goodie two shoes’...You're a good person. You are kind, empathetic, and sweet. You care about people. You make the people around you happy. Angel is just...being Angel…” She trails off. “Don't overthink it.”

“I think I have feelings for Angel.” Charlie blinks, letting go of her. “You have feelings for Angel Dust?” Her eyes are filled with mild disbelief. “You...like Angel??” You sigh. “I do.” Charlie’s face lights up with excitement. “That's great! You should go tell him!” She exclaims happily. “I can't. He is really upset with me…” You say sadly, tears still forming in your eyes. “Just go talk to him. I'm sure things will turn out okay. I promise.” You look up at her, wiping your tears. “Are you sure?” You ask, still a little skeptical. “Yes.” She responds.

You walk into the lobby and sit on one of the sofas, reading a magazine. Angel sat down next to you, his long spider-like legs stretching out in front of him as he huffed. The tall and skinny demon’s expression was sullen and tired, his gloved hands fidgeting with the bowtie around his neck. He didn’t immediately say anything, opting to try and gather his thoughts first. After a small moment of silence, Angel took a deep breath and spoke up, his voice quieter than usual but still holding its usual hint of sass. “Look. I know I’ve been real shitty to ya lately. But I’m not tryna be, it’s just how I deal with stuff. Not that what I deal with gives me an excuse to treat ya bad or nothing.. I just.” Angel huffed again, frustrated with his ability to find the words.

“You were right though. I am a goodie two shoes.” Angel laughed slightly at that, shaking his head. He ran his hand through his long fluffy locks and said, “Yeah, yeah ya kinda are Toots. I may just be the right amount of bad boy to get you to break a rule or two.” Angel reached his hand out and gently lifted your chin, turning your head towards him. His usual smug expression was softened, and his usual sass was replaced with genuine worry. “But seriously suga’. Are you alright? I don’t want ya thinkin I don’t care about ya, ya dig?”

“Did Husk put you up to this? Talk some sense into you?” Angel looked away, refusing to meet your gaze. He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that Husk had gotten involved in their fight. There was a long pause. “…I dunno if I’d say that exactly. More like gave me a smack upside the head and told me to stop being a jackass.” It was your turn to laugh softly at him. Angel chuckled in return, and leaned his head back against the filthy brick wall behind him. He looked up at the night sky, his long legs stretching out before him as he spoke in a quiet voice, “I meant what I said though doll. I really don’t mean to act like such an ass. I..I really do care about you sugartits.”

“The only reason I was upset is because I knew you were right.” You say sadly. Angel quirked an eyebrow at that comment, and shifted his gaze back over towards you. “You… Wait what?” He asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me you’re really upset cause I hurt ya feelings instead of because I was being a prick?” Angel was dumbfounded, his expression morphing into one of complete bewilderment. It was the last answer he’d ever expect you to give. He sat there processing your response for a moment, his mouth hung slightly open in shock. After a few moments he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Babe. You really are a goodie two shoes.”

Angel chuckled and reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was genuine and soft, the usual sarcasm replaced with sincerity. “If it makes you feel better, I really was just spouting random bullshit. I only said that to get under your skin. You seriously have no idea how much I’m into how pure and sweet you are, toots.”

“Easy there angel. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a crush on me.” You tease. Angel let out another small laugh and rolled his eyes, a smirk spreading across his lips. He leaned a bit closer, and said in a low voice, “Darlin, if I’m honest, that’s exactly what’s goin’ on here. I’ve absolutely got a crush on you, Babycakes.” You look shocked.

Angel placed his hand on your thigh, and added, “You’ve no idea how cute you are dollface. So sweet and pure. I’m completely head over heels for ya.” He smirks. “Me too.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. Angels smirk morphed into a genuine, albeit shy, smile. His cheeks flushed a light pink and he chuckled sheepishly at the show of affection. He reached up with his lower set of hands, cupping your chin and running his thumb over your lips. “You’re lucky I’m a sap for a goodie two shoes, doll.” Angel teased, his voice still low and soft. “I guess I am.” You say, as you two spent the night in eachothers arms.

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Lucky Winners ❙ ES Bumblebee X f!robot reader X Breakdown ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: Smut ( valve in plug and port and double penetration ) threesome, mentions of BreakBee and a pretty tasty sandwich. NSFW 18+.

Notes: This...I really liked this! Thanks anon for sending through it was a lot of fun and excited to share with the world. Enjoy. 🥰

They are at it again. Bumblebee and Breakdown were having a few races together at the track while you watch on, unable to hold back your smile as you admire them both carrying on like sparklings. Honestly, you think it's cute, they both are, and you enjoy spending time with them.

After the horrible events with both G.H.O.S.T. and Mandroid there was a lot to repair and more verbal agreements to be made. All decepticons and autobots are finally working together to repair the space bridge, and to put the differences aside for a better future.

You're an autobot, loyal to Optimus, but even you grew tired of this war. Despite still being considered as young you felt ready for retirement. After the space bridge would be fixed you wanted to revisit cybertron, and from there you're wanting to consider what you want.

What you truly want is to settle, a change to start a family perhaps, but finding the right mech was no easy task. Right now your thoughts and optics are right on both Bumblebee and Breakdown. Both were rather handsome, funny, and they were both kind to you. But of course you can't have both, right?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of engines roaring and tires skidding, both bots come screaming around the track and as always Breakdown beats Bumblebee. They both transform in style right before you then.

"Too slow!"

"Not again! I know you're cheating somehow, there's just no way you can beat me every single time!"

"Just admit that I'm faster to you, Bee." Breakdown gave out a hearty laugh that you are fond of hearing.

"Y/N, to be honest, did he get a head start?" Bumblebee asks, bringing you into the moment.

"Breakdown a cheater? That's a serious accusation." Your tone is playful. "I'm pretty sure you both went off at the same time."

"I want a re-race!" Bumblebee declared.

"Let's make it interesting. Winner takes the prize." Breakdown grins with mischief.

"What prize? You've got nothing to offer!" Bumblebee argues with slumped shoulders before looking at you. "Name the prize, Y/n."

"Me?" You sound surprised. "Well, alright. The winner shall...." You think before giving a shrug, followed by a silky giggle. "The winner gets a kiss from me."

It's a joke, at least that's what you told yourself.

Both Breakdown and Bumblebee stare at you, then at each other, before they transform and are flying down the track as if their lives depended on it.

"Oh." You whisper to yourself as you feel your cheek plating warm up a little. It was a joke, and they both took it very seriously. Surely they didn't seriously think you are being for real?

Well, you sit there, anxiously waiting for the winner to finish. It's not that you were opposed to the thought of kissing either of them, you would like that very much, but perhaps it's just you overthinking it. It's just a kiss.

Eventually they finish, and once again Breakdown is the champion.

"Yes! I get the prize!" He looks rather proud of himself and even eager to get the kiss from you.

"No fair..." Poor Bumblebee sounded like a wounded critter.

"So, Y/n, how about that kiss?" Breakdown cruises towards you, holding a charming smirk as you stand up from the ground in front of him.

"Very well." Leaning forward you caress his cheek, turning his head lightly and kissing his cheek lightly, giving him a dainty giggle noticing his confused expression.

"What? That's all?" You don't miss Bumblebee's amused smile.

"Oh I'm sorry, were you expecting a hot make out session?" You teased with a seductive smile.

"Yeah?"

"That wasn't the prize offered." Patting his cheek you step away crossing your arms across your charris.

"Alright then, put it on the table." Breakdown sounded determined to get that kiss, which makes you blush lightly knowing what he wants from you. "Bee, one more race?"

Bumblebee vented heavily. "Fine! But I'm watching you, no cheating."

"Y/n, all good, kiss on the lips on the table?" Breakdown looks very anxious as he dances lightly on his pedas making you smirk lightly, an idea forming in your mind. It was crazy but you can't help yourself. After all, it's been a while since you've had any intimate fun.

"How about...whoever wins, get's to have me." You declare before leaning yourself against the brick wall and parting your legs a little, your servos cascading over the top of your thighs, teasing the two racers. "And they can do whatever they want with me."

Once again the silence lingers, and after a long moment of waiting, both Breakdown and Bumblebee have driven off down the track once again in a more desperate attempt to win. You can't help but giggle lightly, the joy and thrill already working through your frame as you wait, curious as to who was going to win and have their way with you. You are going to feel so sorry for whoever doesn't win.

As both come around the bend you notice that both are side by side as they floor it towards the finish line. Would this be the race that Bumblebee finally wins?

Keeping your optics at the finish, you anxiously bit your lips and waited, and waited, right before they both crossed. It's a tie.

"It's me! I won!" Breakdown yells as he's letting everyone know he's won.

"No way! I did! I won that race!" Bumblebee argues not wanting to lose this round.

"Y/n, be honest, who's the lucky winner?" Breakdown leaves it to you to decide, smirking lightly as he sends you a charming wink.

Of course though you answer honestly. "You're both the lucky winners."

"What?" Both looked confused at you causing an uplifting giggle to leave you.

"I saw it, and it's a tie, no more arguing about it. Now, if you two are done with your racing, perhaps you both would like to have your prize now?" You tease as you walk back into the sheltered part of the race track, optics illuminating in the shadows as you await their pounce.

It doesn't take long for either of them to do exactly that.

You find yourself being embraced by Breakdown from behind, feeling his servos roaming over your hips and waist, his lips planting against the back of your neck as he lets out a groan just from touching you. Bumblebee stood in front, his lips latched onto your own in a lustful aura, glossa's tangled gentle together as you both let out hushed moans into one another. It seems both didn't have any issues sharing you.

Curiously, you teased Bumblebe's horns between your digits, earning a short gasp from him as he pulled away in surprise, notice his cheek plating heat up from your actions.

"Sensitive?" You ask through a gentle teasing tone.

"Y-yeah, but it's alright." He gives an innocent smile.

"He secretly loves it." Breakdown says from behind you against your audio.

"And how would you know?" You continue to tease.

"I know everything." His tone was very suggestive.

You bit your lips in thought, considering that the two fool around with one another, which you actually found quite arousing. You digits continue to gently tease Bumblebee's horns, enjoying the sounds he made as you both kiss deep again. Breakdown's servo moved down between your thighs earning a low moan from you under their seductive touches.

"I bet you're already soaking for us, yeah?" Breakdown's tone seems to have that in depth effect on you.

"So much." You weren't going to lie or hold back as you spread your thighs a little, rocking your hips down against his touches. Moving your own servo behind you touch his heated panel, your other moving to Bumblebee's panel as you give them firm rubs, making the two groan from your touches. "And I bet you two are eager for this."

Their answer is by moving, and you find yourself straddling Bumblebee on the ground with Breakdown behind you still, feeling him tilt your helm to the side so he can steal another warm kiss from you as you grind yourself against Bumblebee, who has now retracted his panel and you do the same, rubbing yourself along his already throbbing spike. Breakdown does the same and you feel his thick spike rubbing up against your aft earning a thrilled quiver to rush through your frame.

"Are you alright with this?" Breakdown asks you gently, knowing very well you are about to take them both.

"Definitely."

You trust both to take care and satisfy you greatly. You end up retracting your port than for Breakdown and grind yourself against the two mechs to get them even harder and yourself more lubricated.

A lot of your juices have already leaked out and Breakdown uses this to coat his digits and gently probe your port to prepare you for him. The invasion was different but not bad, in fact you find yourself rocking back against his digits, right before positioning yourself over Bumblebee's tip and sinking down on him.

"Oh primus..." Bumblebee moans, servos holding onto your hips as you slowly lower yourself, feeling every ridge press through your inner walls before bending down to kiss him softly.

Slowly you rock yourself, clenching around his spike along with Breakdown's pumping digits, letting out soft mewls that linger and savouring every second of this. You honestly had no idea if something like this would happen again, and so you want to make every second count for the three of you and make sure they never forget it.

Breakdown removes his digits and you hear him shuffling behind before feeling the warm tip of his spike against your port, nudging gently, before he pushes forward slowly. His grunts hit your audio as you tip your helm back against his shoulder, moaning loudly before it's swallowed by his lips over yours, devouring you with his glossa as he continues to inch forward into your tight port.

Bumblebee found the sight of you both above him even more arousing while you rode his spike slowly, his servos resting at your waist while he vents through the heated desire rushing through him.

You take both their spikes fully, feeling every bumpy ridge and throb from them, clenching around them teasingly as you continue to rock yourself slowly against them. "You both fill me so well, so good." You send them both praises. "You can move, please."

"We'll take very good care of you." Breakdown purrs before looking down at Bumblebee. "You ready slowpoke?"

"Bring it, show off." Bumblebee grins at him.

Holding yourself above, both of them start to thrust into you in sync together, slowly and firmly. Your valve and port welcome both spikes eagerly, clenching around them, feeling every ridge dragging across your inner walls. Your optics shuttered as your mouth hung open, constant silky moans forming from you as you let both winners take you as their prize.

Breakdown's heated grunts are deep and continuous, pressing into you repeatedly as his servos grip your waist securely. Bumblebee's moans are different, softer, servos held a sturdy yet gentle hold across your hips, feeling his digits circling into your soft armour which sends pulses of bliss through your already quivering frame.

"Oh frag..." Is all you can whisper out through the intense interfacing you are receiving from two impressive mechs and their throbbing spikes entering you over again in perfect sync.

"Taking us so well." Breakdown whispers hoarsely against your audio, feeling ever heated vent from him as he rocks into you. "Think you can go for more?"

"Easy Breakdown, don't want to hurt her." Bumblebee's concern was sweet, you think to yourself.

"It's alright. Yes, please. I've got two speed racers fragging me. Give me your true speed." You are ready for them, and it's all the coaxing they both need.

It's as if something set off between them, an electric pulse, because the next thing you know is both of them let themselves go, and truly show you the speed racers they are.

Metal hitting metal, scraping together, throbbing spikes now being rutted into your valve and port repeatedly. Both their hips slam against you over again, but of course all you can feel is the overwhelming pleasure boiling through you as you somehow manage to hold yourself up above Bumblebee with shaky arms.

Your overload suddenly snaps, catching you off guard and half broke shout and collapsing against Bumblebee's chassis while clamping tightly around their twitching cables buried deep in you, aftershocks and pulses rocking through your frame as your moans continue to linger out through their rapid thrusts against you.

Both weren't too far behind, and as you let out short whimpers through they final thrusts, you suddenly feel them giving their final movements through their intense moans and filling you deeply with their transfluids, jerky thrusts lingering before Breakdown lays gently across your back, careful to not crush you or Bumblebee.

Laying on top of Bumblebee he turns his helm a little and you end up kissing him softly making him smile lightly in return as his servo caresses your shoulder. Breakdown leans down over your shoulder, moaning a little as you still feel him inside you, before he tilts your helm back to kiss you as well. That wasn't all though, and you watch through inquisitive optics as Breakdown then leans across to kiss Bumblebee.

You already guessed they are fooling around, and it only turns you on.

"Just so you both know, if you ever want me to offer myself as a prize through racing for each of you, I'm keen." You inform them.

"Guess Bee and I will be racing more often than." You can feel Breakdown's grin through his voice.

"One of these days I'll beat you." Bumblebee sounds determined.

"Sure thing, slow poke."

You let out a soft giggle and touch both speeders tenderly. "I can't wait."

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

a personal post/reflection on ai use

some of you reading this may have seen the message i received accusing me of using ai to write my work. i wanted to take a moment to talk about how it made me feel and, more importantly, the impact that accusations like this can have on writers in general.

I won’t lie: seeing that message in my inbox, being told that the stories i spend hours writing aren't “real", that my effort and creativity don't belong to me, was really disheartening. then i had to defend my own writing against these accusations and that wasn’t exactly fun. and while i know i shouldn’t let it get to me, the truth is that it does, because I'm a real person!

It’s made me overthink everything i write. I already reread my fics multiple times before posting, checking for flow, consistency, and coherence, but now, i find myself second-guessing every sentence. Does this sound too robotic? Is my phrasing too formal or too stiff? Or maybe it’s not polished enough? Maybe it's too polished. What if i accidentally repeat a word or structure a sentence in a way that someone deems “ai-like”? Will i be accused of this again?

I want to be clear also that this isn’t about seeking sympathy. I just feel it's important to remind people that fanfic writers are real people with real emotions. We write because we love it, because we want to share stories for others to enjoy for free. And yet, there are people out there who treat “spotting ai” like some kind of witch hunt, who feel entitled to send accusations to complete strangers without any basis for it.

And I don't say this to be elitist, but for some context, I have a master’s degree in computer science. I work in tech every day. I specialize in machine learning. When I say there is no reliable way to tell whether a passage of text was written by ai or a human, i'm not just making shit up. ai detection tools are completely unreliable. they give false positives all the time, and they are, quite frankly, complete bullshit.

And I get that there are legitimate concerns about ai-generated work in creative spaces, especially when it comes to art, writing, and other forms of expression that people put their hearts into. I have taken ethics courses in ai for this reason. I understand why people are wary, and i’m not saying that those concerns aren’t valid. But this is exactly why we should be mindful of how we engage with content. If you don’t like something, if you suspect it was ai-generated and that bothers you, the best thing you can do is simply not engage. don’t read it, don’t share it, don’t support it.

But going out of your way to harass people, to send accusations without evidence, to act like you’re some kind of ai-detecting authority is not just absurd, but it’s harmful to real people because you will inevitably get it wrong!!!

At the end of the day, this is fan fiction. no one is paying for this. no one is being scammed. so why do people act like they need to police something that’s supposed to be fun, creative, and freely shared? if you love stories written by real people, support those writers. but please, stop making this space even more stressful for the people who are already here, giving their time and creativity to share something they love.

And if you still think making accusations about people using AI for their writing is the correct and virtuous thing to do, I invite you to read this online thread of freelance writers discussing the legitimate harm that has come to their livelihood due to the false positives of ai detection tools and false accusations.

[heartfullofleeches]

If you want to could we have a scenario with the cafe tag role reversal au? Maybe readers first time going to the cafe and being met with Clyde and Saber as like a little callback to the first Cafe tag post?

The pet cafe's opening week. Lines spread down the block with the lure of being catered to by an adorable and friendly cast of hybrids joined by a special guest to kick off the launch. Saber was well known in the modeling industry for his looks and charm. Being a high class breed and a hybrid of one of the most common house pets were a clear boost to his popularity. It was no surprise the cafe reached out for his aid which was an obvious success. He had been everyone's first choice for a host, and booked the entire duration of the collab. All this attention was just too much for the poor feline.

"Hello, I'm here for my appointment with Clyde."

Saber's claws leave divots in the table. The hostess manning the front desk offers the customer a warm smile as they lead them to their table, depositing their umbrella in the bin beside the desk. A chipper bee that the customer has to speed walk to keep up with and leaves them a honey flavored sucker as they leave to get their coworker from the back. The poor unaware rabbit ducks behind the coffee table as the doors to the break room fly open.

"Clyde! Your twelve o'clock is here!"

Clyde's pale face drains of color as a menu is shoved in his arms. "What?! I thought you were joking about that...."

"I was at first, but then a real request came in like five minutes later." Robbie pushes their coworker towards the door." Well, don't keep your first waiting. Go, go, go!'

Clyde fits his hair as he's pushed into the dining area. He continues to smooth his curly locks, and tries to make himself look as presentable as possible for his first master of the day. He's never been called on before. He's used to taking meal orders for the guests waiting for more popular pets like that feline. Passing the table were Saber sat crowded by an entire group of people, Clyde feels a chill run down his back as his temporary partner shoots him an icy glare. Creepy. Saber's never been nice to him, but he's never done that before. He could worry about that later. Focus.

"Table six... table six.. Ta- Ah! Here we go. I apologize for the wait, master. Welcome to the cafe, can I get you something to drink to start you off?"

"I'll need a moment to decide. Can you sit next to me until then?"

"Certainly!" Clyde takes a seat on the edge of the booth. It was easier said than done. He couldn't figure out why someone had chosen him, especially a cute human like them if a side view was anything to go off of. Were they using him for something? Maybe they only requested him so they could watch Saber without the wait. Why was he dumping such accusations on a stranger? Why did they feel right?...

"I'll just take a water for now, and sip of whatever you want."

"....Pardon?" Did he hear them right?

The guest looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'd use a separate straw of course, but I thought it would be okay since I saw others doing it and I didn't want you to be left out."

His ears had been tugged on a lot throughout the years - but he heard them loud and clear. They... actually wanted him. Was that him overthinking again? Clyde prayed not. Someone was asking about him. Someone was looking at him. He had been noticed.

The guest looks under the table as their silverware slides into their lap. "Are you alright?"

Clyde holds down his leg, face as red as the tie around his neck. "Y-yes, just- a bit excited. I'll go get those drinks for us."

In the split second it takes for Clyde to hop away from the table, a few face takes his spot. The customer had taken to watching the falling rain outside the window so they remain oblivious to his presence. The slippery feline rubs up against the guest's forearm much to their confusion. They put on their friendliest uncomfortable smile and pull their arm away, waving with a limp wrist.

"Um... Hello"

"Hi there." Saber purrs, switching one leg over the other as his tail falls onto their thigh. "Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah actually, I think his name is Clyde. I thought he was super cute, so I wanted to meet him."

Saber rolls his eyes, picking up the pieces of his friendly facade as he leans on their shoulder. "Awww, don't be like that. I'm sure we could have more fun together than you could with him."

"Really, I'm not interested."

Saber, ever the prideful, refuses to back down. He scoots closer, heavy rain pelting his ears. Thunder claps drilling his sensitive ears with tremendous boom that crumbles his ego and his body to the floor. He covers his ears with his hands and hisses, plugging the holes with his fingers as if trying to make himself go deaf. Hands pulling him away, and cushioning his head with their chest prevents him from doing just that. The guest strokes his head and hushes him as the thunder died out.

"There, there. You're alright." They help him back to the chair and check to make sure he didn't hurt himself. Their hands are so soft. They fade from contact as the guest looks over his shoulder. "Clyde's back. You going to be okay?"

Saber, admitting defeat for now returns to his original table. Clyde bites the flesh of his cheek to keep his smile from spreading too far.

"Master, I'm back. I hope you enjoy milkshakes?"

"Sounds good." The guest scoots back over to their side of the booth, petting the rabbit's hair much to his surprise. Through his salt and pepper locks, they notice a single black dot behind one of his ears. "You don't have to call me master if you don't want to. Y/n is just fine, but if we're handing out nicknames you mind if I call you Spot?"

Spot's leg starts to bounce again. Please let them become a regular.

[dragonnova]

Ya'll caught me in one of my manic research frenzies, so I hope I don't ramble too hard. (I was up at 3am last night writing entire paragraphs to my friend about physical determinism and Lovecraft. She often accuses me of having doom senses.) So to answer @darellarcady first! I have been accused of predicting the outcome of a show/game! LOL, but no, I'm not predicting the future XD I hyperfocus on tiny details and I pull thoughts from other sources to 'back up' my theory. I'm just a sci-fi nerd that overthinks and dwells on the little details, because I want it to be as believable as possible.

To @nivael : LOL yes, I have done so much research into the Carrington event, because Frequency is one of my favorite movies. (I have a set of go-to movies and books that I love to reference as examples for my thoughts on time travel.) My favorite Youtube Rabbit Hole channel was discovered when I was researching this exact thing years ago. I highly recommend Fascinating Horror (my favorites being the Radium Girls, and this video:

Fascinating Horror - The Carrington Event Of course as a side note, I have to say with any youtube documentary channel, always fact check them. I love this channel, but it has been known to pass along misinformation.

[princesssarisa]

Guess what? I'm doing a rewatch of Faerie Tale Theatre. Every day or so I've been watching a new episode.

Some of them I haven't seen since I was in elementary school, and I've been enjoying them very much. So far I've gone from The Frog Prince through The Princess and the Pea and the next episode I'll be watching is Pinocchio.

I have two comments about aspects of certain episodes that are bugging me, though.

Is it just me, or is Little Red Riding Hood slightly unclear about its message in the end? Of course it has the standard message in which Mary (Red Riding Hood) learns to be less naïve and not to talk to strangers or stray from the path anymore. So in other words, she should have listened to her parents, right? Then why is her father portrayed as such an overprotective jerk? At the beginning of the episode, she has no friends, never goes out except to visit her granny, and is treated like a child at home instead of the young woman she is. (The fact that Mary Steenburgen was 30 makes it all seem even more ridiculous, though I assume the character is supposed to be about 15 or 16.) Then he blocks her budding romance with Christopher because he thinks Christopher isn't good enough for her. You'd expect this to lead to an ending where her father admits he's been overprotective, that by keeping her so sheltered and lonely he caused her to fall for the Wolf's sweet talk, and that it's time to let her grow up. Maybe all these realizations are supposed to be implicit, since he does reconcile with Christopher after the latter rescues Mary and Granny (albeit in a non-apology, "pretending there was never any conflict" sort of way, for comic effect) and lets Mary be with him after all. But the narrator only talks about Mary learning to be wiser and more cautious in the end, as if she realizes her father was right all along. Is it just me, or should there have been more of a compromise between Mary and her father, where they both admitted they were wrong and he agreed to let her be more free while she agreed to be more cautious? Again, maybe this is implicit for most viewers, but too subtle on the father's side for my autistic brain. Does anyone else think this episode's ending could have been better written?

In The Princess and the Pea, is it just me, or does it feel like a scene is missing from Prince Richard and Princess Alecia's romance arc? In their second scene together, they have a big argument when Alecia accuses Richard of only looking for shallow qualities in his bride-search. But then in the next scene they share, Alecia is playfully directing Richard and the Fool in a fencing duel, and all three of them are chatting like friends, as if the argument never happened. Was there a scene cut for time where she and Richard made up? The review of this episode from the Up On The Shelf blog praises it as an excellent romantic comedy, and especially praises the romance arc for feeling so "real." I would agree, except I don't understand why they go from fighting to friendship with no transition. Again, maybe this is my autism brain again – I expect people to follow certain "rules" of conflict resolution, and it baffles me when they forgive each other too easily. But I have to fill in the blank with a missing scene to fully appreciate this love story.

I know I'm overthinking an '80s fairy tale TV series that never takes itself too seriously. Still, I wanted to express it.

[ema0rsully]

TMNT 2012 x Gem!Reader

(You are a lapis lazuli. Your main purpose is to terraform earth and its inhabitants. But you are quite different than other lapides. Despite being created to terraform planets, you've come to realise the Diamonds weren't worthy of your devotion or your sacrifices. After all the things they've done to you.)

"So you don't eat?"

"Nor do you sleep?"

"Do you ever need to go to the bathroom?"

"Of course you would ask that."

"Hey! I can ask whatever I want!"

You stared awkwardly at the four creatures. You did not know what they were but Earth seemed to inhabit the strangest mortal creatures from all planets you had ever encountered. The only reason you have managed to differentiate between the four creatures was because of their coloured headbands. You find them quite entertaining, which is why you abandoned your duties to speak with them.

"Please, I apologise on behalf of my brothers. They lack mannerisms as you can see." The purple one says with an annoyed tone, still glancing at the red and orange. You only chuckle,

"That is fine, it is wonderful to finally talk to someone!".

Which is true, you never really get to talk to anybody on Homeworld. You do your job, accomplish your goal, return, get assigned to a new one and repeat.

"What's your planet like?" The blue one asked with an excited smile, ignoring the red and orange one's bickering.

"Ah, busy." You replied with no further information which only made the blue one tilt his head.

"Busy?" He raised a brow in confusion.

"Yes, busy. Y'know, colonising planets and turning them into resources for Homeworld." You explained which only made the red one turn his focus to you.

"Colonise? You're gonna colonise Earth?!" He accused in an intimidating tone.

You tilt your head. "Hmmm no. I find this planet enjoyable! The Diamonds can find other planets to colonise but I like this one." you say as you look at the night sky above them.

The four creatures gave a confused and sceptical look at you.

"Diamonds? Who are they?" The blue one asked you again.

"Our commanders. They're the ones who created us from the resources of planets they've colonised. We were made to serve them and devote our energy to them to help expand their colony and kingdom" you say with such passion, you won't lie, you sound a little deranged. But you won't lie about this as well, you still have a little admiration for the Diamonds. Especially your Diamond, Blue Diamond.

"Yeah.. totally not creepy. So, that's why you don't eat or sleep?" The red one crossed his arms and stared at you sceptically.

"Yes! I mean, what use would I be to my Diamonds if I were to slack off and take time for myself? I would be completely useless!" You chuckled at your joke but the other four did not laugh along.

"Huh, it's almost like you see them as your God." The purple one says which makes you tilt your head.

"Of course I do, they're the only purpose I'm alive." You cringed after the words left your lips.

It's almost like the words coming out of your mouth weren't yours. It's like it was programmed into you. To always praise the Diamonds. Love the Diamonds. Sacrifice for the Diamonds. It makes your throat itch. Your words earned a disgusted look from the red one.

"That's... fucked up."

"Raph!" The blue one glared at the red one.

"He is right. It is quite the mindset to have. But, it is accustomed to me that I don't know what to do without it." You said, giving a sad smile.

"Hey! Don't overthink it dudette! We got you covered! We'll help you through this." The orange one said reassuringly as gave you a side hug.

It was an odd feeling you felt in your stomach and chest. It felt, warm.

"Look, even tho we just met a couple of hours ago. You seem cool. Pathetic, but cool." The red one said with a smirk.

The blue one glanced at the red one and smiled at you, "Raph is right. You're cool and we liked talking with you. We should hang out more!" he said excitedly.

You looked confused. "Why would we hang? Shouldn't we enjoy the company of each other instead?" You asked which only earned you confused stares.

"That's what I-"

"That is it! You're coming with us." The red one swung a hand around you and led you somewhere.

"Was it something I said?" You asked nervously

"Nonono, we're just gonna 'enjoy each other's company' while we teach you common slang. You're part of the gang now. Welcome, the name is Raphael." The red one says with slight sarcasm in his voice.

The purple one catches up next to the both of you, "I'm Donatello-and Raph please be careful her gem- (Your gem is on your chest. He is worried Raphael's strong grasp around you might shatter your gem even tho it won't.). She did mention moments ago that their gems are practically their hearts and you should-"

"I know what I'm doing, Donnie," Raphael grumbled to Donatello.

A hand gently pats your shoulder.

"Leonardo. Don't worry, they mean well." Leonardo reassures you of his other two brother's behaviour.

"And if you ever get bored of these three losers, you can hang out with me! Michelangelo!" The orange one spoke with a wide smile.

Your blank expression turned to one of fondness and you smiled. This is exactly the interaction you wish to perceive back on Homeworld.

You just chuckled as the five of you walked out of the alleyway and onto the dimly lit streets to enjoy a nice group 'hang out' together with your new company.

[karenandhenwilson]

One last post from my side about this

I've been pondering how to do this post for the last couple of days, and also if I should write it at all. My thoughts went from being really vicious and unrepentantly calling out a couple of people to just not bother with wasting my energy on it to feeling very unsatisfied with some of the things that have been said or not been said despite also being relieved about the turn this situation took on Tuesday.

(The rest is under the break because this turned out long. Much longer than I expected.)

I honestly believe that any kind of call out post is always a form of cyberbullying. Because in the end, what you are doing with that in social media isn't informing people about a problem. What you are doing is trying to get people blindly to agree to your point of view by twisting the information you present. And sadly, all too often it works. 

It did work this time, too. I have seen several people state, publicly but also privately, that they saw one of the call-out posts from Monday and reblogged without looking at the publicly available conversation with the artist. When they then looked at it later, they were appalled with themselves to have blindly followed the accusations. I hope for those people and also at least a fracture of the people seeing their posts about it, this is a lesson: Always double check the information you are fed. (And honestly, that goes for news outlets as much as any social media post. But I don't want this post to be about media literacy.)

I'm aware that this is a kind of call out post all on it's own. The version of this post from Monday would have named all the names and at that time I wouldn’t have felt sorry about it. But that's the thing about reacting and posting something while the emotions are high, isn't it? A version from Tuesday doesn't exist, because I thought it not worth the energy and time the would be spend on it.

In the meantime, I have come to the conclusion that while I will be addressing a certain group of people, this post wouldn't have ever been about them, not even the first version from Monday. It's about fandom as a whole, preserving information for those who'll join the fandom in the future or who'll be attacked or witness an attack in the future or those who'll stumble over what happened this last week later on who are completely unaware of it right now. Because thankfully, for the fandom as a whole it didn't go very far.

I'm aware that in a way, I'm contradicting myself, that I might be participating in cyberbullying with this post. I'm rationalizing this for myself by the circumstances that it's a conclusion of a bullying campaign and that I won't feel responsible for those who started it being now attacked themselves. Some people will tell me I'm still wrong, some will shrug about it, others will agree with me. It is the reason, though, that I have decided not to name any names even though it will be stupidly easy to find the names I'm talking about. For that reason, I have cropped the screenshots I'll share about things I feel I need or want to address or blacked out the names on those screenshots.

To everyone who'll feel encouraged to seek out those names and spam their ask boxes or DMs with provocations or hate: Don't do it! It might feel satisfying in the beginning (the thought alone of the Monday-version of this post felt on Monday very satisfying for me, too), but it won't accomplish anything. They have proven they don't want to have a conversation, no matter how much they claim differently. Nothing will make them overthink and judge their own actions. (Also, I hope not providing the names here will make most of those who first like leaving anon hate to have lost interest once they have found the names because it will give them time to think better of it.)

And of course, the people who started this, have repeatedly stated they don't believe a call out post to be bullying. So they really won't be in a position to have a problem with this post. (They still will cry about it and claim the unfairness of it all, no doubt.)

An anon sent this to someone involved in this debate:

I've realised that I will never convince anyone by publicly shaming them. I might be able to silence them, but I won't convince them.

I fully agree with these words. I think everyone involved in this situation should take these words to heart. In other posts of the last view weeks, I already shared some thought about communication and teaching. I’ll elaborate on those thoughts in a later part of this post.

I realized this post is getting long. So I'm breaking it up in several parts and I'll add links to this post as soon as the other posts are up.

The actual call out part of this whole thing

Some thoughts about learning and communication

The usual aftermath

[trainerspiral]

I spend the rest of the day in my hotel room, watching TV with Coba and the V4ST and trying not to overthink my conversation with ASH. I'm largely unsuccessful.

The hope of Coba being an old box Pokemon isn't completely crushed, but I'm certainly not encouraged. ASH is right--there are too many other, more likely explanations. It irks me to be accused of magical thinking, but I can't claim innocence there. I know for a fact Coba isn't one of my old Pokemon--I've never owned a shiny Trapinch--but of course the possibility of getting them back would push me into the realm of crazy ideas.

I resolve to put the idea out of my head and focus on finding Coba's owner. I can't let him pay for my inability to move on.

Sometime after sunset, as I'm contemplating whether I'll order room service or go out again, my Roto-phone flies out of my pocket and hovers in front of my face, chirping. I jump, causing Coba and the V4ST to look around and make startled noises.

I seize the phone, intending to find a way to shut that feature off immediately, but forget as soon as I see that it's showing me a message from ASH:

I'm trying to find this coordinator named Esther Flowne, do you know any coordinators in Slateport?

I don't know any working coordinators, but I know Rosette is involved in setting up contests with the league every year. I send a message to her asking about the name.

She answers quickly that the name isn't familiar off the top of her head, but she wants to know how I'm doing, and I decide it's easier to call her.

"Helloooo!" she sings.

"Hiiiiii," I say, the sound of her voice lifting my spirits just a bit.

"So? How's Coba? Is he passing his test?"

"So far," I say, and give her a quick rehash of my journey up to the point I left the Berry Master's. She's a great audience, interjecting with enthusiasm at all the right beats, especially when I describe Coba's first fight and the capture of the Grimer.

"That's so great, Spiral! Aw, I knew that little guy was going to be fine!"

"Well, we're not done yet, but it's looking a lot better than it was," I admit.

"Are you any closer to finding his owner?"

I sigh, and launch into my meeting with ASH. She grows a lot more serious as I recount that conversation and try to sum up the theories he's thrown out. I don't mention his depressed mental state or my own emotional outbursts, but I'm sure she can read a lot of the underlying emotions on my face.

"Well, like I said I don't think I recognize that person, but you can give him my number if you want and I'll try to help him," she says when I'm finished.

"That would be amazing, Ro, thank you."

"No problem!" A brief pause. "I'm really glad you were able to talk to him. I know that last fight you two had has been bothering you for a really long time."

I nod slowly. "Yeah. It's...it was really good."

We say our goodbyes and hang up. ASH doesn't answer his phone, but I text him Rosette's number and turn my attention to the room service menu.

-----

I get up early the next morning, have a quick breakfast in the lobby, and head out into the enclosed city, eerie and echoing at this time of day. I restock on healing items and travel rations and pick up a few Repels in case the going gets too tough. I still only have two usable Pokemon, after all.

As I'm heading toward the south exit, I pass a familiar shop: Pokemon Reflexology Services, a grooming and massage parlor for Pokemon. It has grown larger since the renovations to the city and certainly looks more modern than it did the last time I was here, but a quick glance at my phone shows it still has rave reviews. It's just opening up for the day, and while it's not completely empty it's not slammed, either.

I decide to go inside, where a friendly blonde greets me and informs me they are having a two-for-one special. I take a ticket and am on my way to a massage room in under twenty minutes, where a pair of pretty young masseuses tells me let out my Pokemon.

I think about including the Grimer, but I'm worried about its tameness level and odor. Instead I release Coba and the V4ST. Coba settles down eagerly under the violet-haired masseuse's hands, but when the redhead reaches for the V4ST, it rocks backward and gives a sharp tone of alarm.

"It's ok," I tell it. "It's just a massage." It makes a hectic series of tones at me. "Look," I say, pointing at Coba. His eyes are closed in ecstasy as the masseuse rubs the muscles around his jaw.

The V4ST still seems uncertain, but it allows the masseuse to guide it to an adjacent table. It's alert and tense at first, but as the young woman works her fingers into its body it settles down, and soon it's making what I can only describe as an electronic purr.

I smile, but the reaction puzzles me. The V4ST is trained to a remarkable level of competence, capable of independent decision-making and complex analysis. Yet it seems unable to differentiate a friendly human gesture from a hostile one, something most Pokemon know instinctively.

When I reflect on my own attitude toward it, though, it makes sense. I can't be the first trainer to grow attached to a potential Missingno. There is a nonzero chance this Pokemon has had to face aggression from humans before. I can only hope its handlers at Sypherbase treat it well, but I have no idea what the training up of a V4ST entails.

Either way, watching it enjoy this moment of care, I'm glad I made the decision to be kind to it. It's a tough, clinical little creature, but it's still just a Pokemon.

-----

Unlike the people of Mauville, the triathletes on Route 110 are early risers. As soon as I'm in sight of the cycling path's gatehouse, chatter and bike noise and the distant sounds of battling fill the scene. A group of swollen-calved trainers in spandex and helmets are circled up outside the teal building, chatting and sipping from water bottles and scanning their surroundings in a pointedly casual way.

Nuts to that. I tug the brim of my hat down over my eyes and veer sharply to the right, into the weeds of the lower path.

A few coastal plants are still blooming, but much of the brush is autumn dry. Wingull drift over the embankment to the sea beyond, dark shapes in the low morning fog. I find a sizeable enough area of clear space in the scrub and mark its edges with Repel. I rub a little scented lotion under my nose and pull on my gloves. Then I release all three members of my scrappy little team: Coba, the V4ST, and the Grimer.

My Roto-phone has informed me the Grimer is a female, with an estimated power level of 23. I've decided to call her Bluk.

I've raised a few poison-type Pokemon in my time: Garbodor, Vileplume, Weezings of both the Galar and Kanto varieties, and a handful of others. I briefly spent time with the Alolan variety of Grimer and Muk when I was over there, but the Kanto variety is not one I've ever gotten familiar with.

I learn two things very quickly.

One: the Kanto variety of Grimer is the worst-smelling poison type I've ever trained.

Two: Kanto Grimer are huggers.

I've hardly tossed her a berry and told her the nickname I've chosen before she's all over me. I stumble back to keep her from taking me out at the knees. Her gloopy face is adorable, but the smell is pure madness. The lotion does nothing.

"Hode on," I plead through my sleeve, eyes watering as I signal for her to stay back a pace. "Don'd dock be ober. Das a good--glaaaah!"

My ass hits the dust and I go sprawling back into the weeds. I try to crawl away but she is shockingly heavy and strong, and the odor is making me weak.

A sharp, alarming tone rings out, and I feel Bluk slump off of me. When I'm able to look up, I see that the V4ST has positioned itself over me with its beak pointed at Bluk, who has shrunk back into a faintly quivering puddle.

"Id's ogay," I choke out, scrambling to my feet. "Id's ogay. Stand dowd."

The V4ST draws back, grumbling in low metallic tones. Coba rushes up behind Bluk, hissing. She looks back and forth between the two with a whimpering gurgle.

I stagger over and pick Coba up under one arm. Once he's calmed down, I squat and approach Bluk again with an Oran berry in my hand.

"Sorry," I say. "Led's dry dis agaid."

One eye peers up at the V4ST, but she only hesitates for a second before moving forward to slurp up the berry, her mouth engulfing my left arm to the elbow. I shudder and look at the arm with concern, but nothing looks melted or gangrenous. The V4ST whirs disapprovingly and Coba growls.

"Be dice," I tell him. I hold out another berry, and this time I pet her on the head while she swallows it. She's happy to lean into my hand for a moment, but she quickly decides it's time for another hug.

"No," I say firmly, holding my hand out in front of her. "Stay. Stay."

Once she settles, I reward her. After a few repetitions she stops trying to tackle me, and I'm able to walk away a few paces to take some deep breaths and apply more lotion. It doesn't help much, and I tell myself I'm just going to have to acclimate until I can find a better solution.

In the meantime, it's time to move on to the main task.

I step back toward Bluk and crouch down, commanding her to stay once more. She burbles and quivers eagerly but obliges. I carefully hold Coba out. He gives an anxious squeal.

"It's ok, buddy," I say. "This is Bluk. We're going to be friends."

Not since my early twenties have I had this problem. When you're an experienced trainer with a lot powerful Pokemon, new recruits tend to understand that they need to behave. Introducing low-level Pokemon to one another is a lot harder. In the absence of a clear hierarchy, they naturally want to fight it out.

All things considered, I'm lucky. She might be smelly, but Bluk isn't mean. Coba is understandably nervous, but he's more inclined to retreat than attack, and the smell doesn't seem to bother him. If I can just convince Bluk to sit still for a minute without trying to grab him, it should be fine.

"Stay!" I say in a sharper tone as Coba dances back from her groping arms, but the possibility of play has excited her and she keeps advancing. He keeps out of her reach, snapping and hissing, but when she ignores my command for the third time the V4ST suddenly swoops in again, delivering what sounds like a harsh scolding in binary. Bluk shrinks back. With the V4ST's backup, I get her to keep her hands to herself long enough for Coba to approach on his own.

We let him circle her, wary and curious. When he starts nudging her with his head I take a few steps back, and before long the two of them begin game of tag in the brush.

The joy of watching Pokemon at play. I'm not prepared for how good it feels.

I glance up at the V4ST, tracking the antics with machine-precise movements of its head. "Thanks," I say. It makes a low whistling noise, but stays focused ahead.

An impulse comes over me, a likely bad idea that I can't resist. "Hey, I don't want to call you 'Hey You' or 'Porygon2.' Will you answer to 'Vast'?"

The V4ST whirls around so quickly I almost trip backwards. It makes a clipped alarm sound, but as I start to backpedal I realize it's looking past me. I whirl around and find myself staring into a gleaming pair of glasses.

"You've met my gaze!" the trainer bellows. "Prepare for battle!"

@novelistash

[snarkformysanity]

House of Earth and Blood Chapter 15

So, it seems Syrinx is indeed only a part-time guard-chimera, as he's currently chilling with Bryce in her apartment. Which begs the question - who (or what) is guarding whatever it is that Syrinx guards when Syrinx isn't there? Alas, the book has no answer.

We get a rather lengthy description of what Syrinx looks like, which seems to essentially boil down to "slightly lion-like pug." Bryce angsts because apparently Fury told Juniper what was going on, but Fury still won't contact her directly. All I can say is, know that feel. It sucks.

She spots Hunt watching her from a rooftop across the road and shuts the curtains. He then immediately calls her to demand she open them. Obvious creepiness aside, was Hunt seriously just sitting there in plain view as he watched her? Jeeze, he sucks at his job.

Anyway, Bryce is trying to watch TV.

The idea of the Umbra Mortis watching a dating competition was laughable enough that Bryce hit pause on the live show. At least she could now speed through commercials.

I mean, I know even these days you can "pause" livestreams (well, not the stream itself, but your feed of it), but... will they really let you fast-forwards the ads? In capitalist hell? What happens if half the livestream fast-forwards and the other doesn't? Unless Bryce is just referring to it being paused now and being able to fast-forward until she catches up. Idk. I'm probably overthinking this.

“Protecting me doesn’t entitle you to invade my privacy.” [...]“Other people would disagree.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I’ve got my orders. I can’t disobey them.”

Bryce makes a good point, but uugggghhh, of course his "orders" supersede it and make everything a-ok. He's not stalking her and trampling on her autonomy, you guys, he's just following orders! How long before Bryce stops bothering to even try to set boundaries? I won't lie, this kinda reads like a token resistance that the book put in to deflect claims that Bryce was weirdly okay with being stalked/accusations of Hunt being a stalker. "No, see, she protested once! But Hunt had orders, so what can ya do!"

Ahhh, we even get a reference to Hunt's angst when dismissing the stalker-ness of it all! "No slave can disobey their orders," indeed. I mean, sure, he probably can't, but... it still reeks of making it "okay" for him to stalk her. We aren't allowed to be appalled that Bryce is being stalked, because think about how hard it is for Hunt to be a slave!

Hunt’s chuckle skittered along her bones. “We’ve been ordered to get to the bottom of these murders. So I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but we’re about to get real up close and personal.” The way he said sweetheart—full of demeaning, condescending swagger—made her grind her teeth.

I really hope this is a sign that maybe Bryce will hate him and he won't actually be the love interest. I mean, I won't hold my breath, but still. One can dream.

They banter over the phone a bit. Nothing that seems particularly important.

She clearly saw the middle finger Hunt lifted above his head. Shadow of Death, indeed.

Yes, book, point out yourself how ridiculous it is that all these allegedly scary badasses behave like utter children. Saves me the trouble.

Bryce purred, “You would make a good delivery boy with those wings.” Angels in Lunathion never stooped to such work, though. Ever.

Yes, they never "stoop" to delivery work. But don't worry, Bryce is totally disgusted by rich people and their condescending attitudes towards The Poors.

Bryce shuts the curtains again, Hunt whinges about her trying to enforce boundaries, she tells him to fuck off. So he flies right up to the window.

The Fallen angel hovered right there. Glaring at her.

A bit nitpicky, because I'm pretty sure every fiction every does this, but it's actually really, really difficult for flying things to hover. I think the hummingbird is the only bird that can? So Hunt better have his wings going hummingbird speed.

“Spare me.” Hunt’s dark hair shifted in the wind. The rustle and beat of his wings overpowered the traffic below—and the humans and Vanir now gawking up at him.

Wasn't it meant to be a secret investigation? Well done, Hunt. You really, really suck at your job.

They argue more - Hunt seems to be under the impression that Bryce making a list of suspects requires his presence for some reason, and Bryce keeps telling him to fuck off.

Fucking alphahole.

Okay, this continues to annoy me. I've been thinking about made-up swear words, and why some work and others don't, and I think I've got it boiled down to this:

The root word needs to not have an existing, non-swear meaning

The root word needs to be a swear word on its own

The root word needs to exist in a larger grammatical context

So, if we compare this book's "alphahole" to, say, "smeghead" from Red Dwarf. The root word, "smeg" is not a real word (in English, at least). Ergo, we learn what it means from context on the show, and we very quickly see it being used in place of various expletives. Furthermore, the word "smeg" can be transformed grammatically e.g. "smegging," "smegged off," "smeg-for-brains," etc. It makes it feel like an actual word that we'd just never heard of before now.

"Alpha" is none of these things. It's a real word with a real meaning (in English), which means we have to override our initial understanding of its meaning every time it comes up. At no point in the book so far has it been used as an expletive on its own - only in the context of "alphahole." And it also can't fit in a wider grammatical context - alphaing, alphaed, etc. It's not even used in other compounds so far e.g. alphahead. All this makes it sound fake and forced, instead of a natural part of language. And so, it sticks out like a sore thumb instead of blending seamlessly into the world.

Anyway, moving on.

Hunt’s stare lifted to her own again. “Do you own any weapons?” The purely male gleam in his eye told her that he assumed she didn’t.

Does... does the book realise how utterly, utterly creepy that sounds? He's got a "purely male" (sweet jesus I hate that phrase) gleam in his eye when he thinks of Bryce being defenseless in her apartment. Like... how are we meant to find that anything but creepy? It sounds like he's planning to go in there and attack her and do "purely male" things to her.

Understandably, Bryce shuts the window in his face. We then POV switch to Hunt.

Hunt wondered how much trouble he’d get in if he chucked Bryce Quinlan into the Istros.

Given the only excuse you have for being here is protecting her, probably a lot.

Since it's a Hunt POV, that means a lot of angst and infodumping. He calls Isaiah, who's at the gym (but Hunt makes sure to tell us he could be with his boyfriend, because we were overdue for a sex reference, I guess), then tells us about all the cameras in the city and how indestructible they are, the various powers of chimeras (which include picking locks, opening doors and teleporting, apparently), and the circumstances around why "Lowers" are traded like property. He mentions that attempts to change the laws designating them as property had been shot down, but fails to tell us whether these Lowers have higher than animal-level intelligence or not, so I'm not sure how mad I need to be about it yet.

Anyway, apparently Hunt has called to whinge about his assignment, after a mere ten hours, because the chimera teleported over and bit him on the ass. And then Bryce saw him rubbing his ass, which apparently translates to "worst morning ever."

See, this is another reason why I have trouble taking his angst seriously. He moans about this as if it's the Worst Thing Ever, yet he's allegedly meant to have survived multiple stints of slavery and torture. Get over yourself, Hunt.

And oh, apparently he knows Bryce's windows are enchanted because he tried to get in them all last night. Holy fucking shit is this guy creepy. The only reason he didn't break into her house (and do "purely male" things to her?) is because he was literally stopped by magic. So far, it seems Bryce is having none of it, but... in a flirtatious manner. Or at least, what this book considers flirtatious. The book literally has no idea how utterly horrifying this is.

“The emergency, asshole, is that I might kill her before we find the real murderer.” He had too much riding on this case. “You’re just pissed she’s not cowering or fawning.”

Isaiah with the real observations lol.

“Gazing through the window of a nail salon like a gods-damned stalker.”

Oh, so... he's aware he's acting like a stalker? And... he doesn't seem to think this might have something to do with Bryce not wanting to cooperate with him? No? *sighs* I mean, of course he doesn't, but still.

“You’ve faced down enemy armies, survived Sandriel’s arena, gone toe-to-toe with Archangels.” Isaiah chuckled. “Surely a party girl isn’t as difficult as all that.” The line cut off.

Thank you, Isaiah, thank you. I think I will go ahead and like you. Don't make me regret it.

Anyway, apparently not only is Hunt once again just standing in the open watching Bryce, he's making all the other patrons of the nail salon nervous. This guy, just... I don't understand how anyone is meant to like him. He's just a grade-A asshole. No redeeming qualities whatsoever (contrary to what the book seems to think, a tragic backstory is not a redeeming quality. All villains have got origin stories, after all).

Hunt continues to watch Bryce get her nails done, bitching and moaning about it the entire time. Book. This isn't interesting. I don't want to listen to Hunt whine about having to do his job.

Anyway, Bryce eventually finishes and comes out.

She popped open the umbrella, nearly taking out his eye. “Did you have something better to do with your time?” “You made me wait in the rain.”

She didn't make you do shit, Hunt. You could have left. Or just gotten your own damn umbrella.

There is one thing I will concede to Hunt, though - his main source of irritation (well, one of them) is that Bryce isn't working on the list of suspects. We've yet to hear from her why this might be the case (or if it even *is* the case), but I will give him that, at least. Doesn't excuse the stalker behaviour and general assholery, though.

Speaking of assholery, he decides to threaten her into making the lists, implying he'll report her for hindering the investigation if she doesn't.

But the chapter isn't over, because we POV switch back to Bryce. She's at work. Immediately, Lehabah is moping at her to let the handsome angel in. Fuck off, Lehabah. The angel is a rapey stalker.

Bryce and Lehabah banter about Hunt for a bit, and Bryce warns Lehabah (who is a fire sprite, in case anyone forgot. I did) not to get too close to the documents she's working on, since fire sprites are made of fire. Does beg the question of why you'd hire/buy one to guard a library, but the book doesn't seem concerned about that. Surely an air sprite would be better, to do some temperature/climate control?

Bryce tells us a bit more about sprites in general - apparently, they're all automatically slaves, because they joined the angel rebellion and "dared" (Bryce's words, not mine) protest their status as Peregrini, a kind of Lower.

So, it looks like Lowers are of above-animal intelligence, and given they're treated as property, makes anyone who "owns" one a slave owner. Including Bryce with Syrinx. Lovely.

And before anyone says that chimeras might be of animal intelligence, apparently Syrinx talks to Lehabah. So no, they are capable of communicating.

And... well, I'll have to see how the book handles it before I can really make a call. I don't believe that books should shy away from topics just because they're politically taboo. That includes writing from the perspective of characters who are okay with the taboo thing, because it's considered okay in their world or whatever. However, they do need to handle them in an appropriate manner, which I have absolutely no faith this book can do. It doesn't even seem to realise that Syrinx is technically Bryce's slave.

And I get that "handle appropriately" is pretty nebulous. But it can be done. An example I like to think of is GRRM with A Song of Ice and Fire - Westeros is indisputably a sexist setting. However, the female characters have a wide range of personalities, goals, flaws, perspectives and so on; but most importantly, they're shaped in a realistic way by both their environment and experiences. They make decisions; they make mistakes. And those mistakes have consequences. They are people, first and foremost, and they behave as people would do in such a setting. So, while the setting is sexist, and many characters within that setting hold sexist views, the writing itself is not sexist. Similar principle applies to things like pro- vs anti-slavery views.

So many books seem to end up the opposite (with both ACOTAR and this book being prime examples) - they think they're creating a non-sexist setting (on paper, at least), and not only fail at that, but end up creating a sexist book as well.

Well. Anyway. Back to the book.

Apparently the fire sprites (and all sprites, presumably) once belonged to the House of Sky and Breath, but were kicked out for their part in the rebellion. Not entirely sure what that means.

Lehabah sat up, legs crossed. “Membership in the Houses is not something a government can decree. Our expulsion was in name only.”

Despite all the infodumping that's been going on, it really isn't clear what role the houses play in all of this. They don't seem to be part of the government structure at all. The preamble at the start of the book seemed to suggest they were just for categorising the various creatures in this world. But Jesiba left her house and joined another; the sprites were kicked out, but in "name only," apparently. So what the heck are the houses? Do they have leaders? Does the government have control over them? Why have you explained so much other shit but neglected to clarify the very things your books are named after????

Also, it seems the book is aware of the stupidity of putting a fire sprite in charge of the library, but apparently some of the books try to escape sometimes, so that makes it okay. Or, hear me out... you could put someone in charge who won't burn the escaping books when they try to catch them?

Jesiba calls - there's a client coming soon. Bryce describes the gallery to us some more, including reminding us about the animals in tanks that may or may not have once been people. Book, when you've dragged things out long enough that you need to be reminding us of descriptions (we're only at ~20% of the way through, btw), that means there's too much god damn padding. Get on with the fucking story.

Anyway, apparently Bryce is going to be doing something later tonight that Hunt won't like, but she doesn't tell us what it is, and the chapter finally ends.

[masterjasper223]

Taken

(Warnings: angst)

"Why haven't you slept with me yet?"

Eric glances up to see you framed in the doorway. "I don't sleep with everyone I meet. Besides, last I heard, you were seeing someone."

His cold blue eyes are almost accusing, seeming to say, 'You see? If you weren't holding us back, we could have so much fun...'

Or maybe you're overthinking things. You swallow, averting your eyes for a fraction of a second before meeting his gaze with a challenging stare.

"That's never stopped you before."

In a flash, the door to Eric's office is locked, and you are pinned between his chest and the cold metal.

His blue eyes search yours, his lips slightly parted. You swear you can still feel his fingers pressed into your lower back from when he tugged you inside, but his hands aren't on you now. They're hanging limply by his sides, fingers flexing every few seconds as if he's having trouble keeping them under control.

Have you ever been this close before? Every time you breathe, your chest brushes his, and you can feel your nipples begin to harden under your clothes, prompting a flood of heat in your lower belly.

Eric's eyes grow dark, pupils dilating, as if he knows exactly what is happening to you. But he doesn't move, except to shift his leg ever so slightly, so that one of his thighs is positioned in between yours, without actually parting your legs.

Still, all you would have to do is take a half-step forward and you could be sitting on his thigh.

It couldn't be clearer: he's waiting for you to act- or to give him a reason to.

As you ponder what to do, memories of your recent girls' night with Pam resurface in your mind, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.

Eric's face falls, but the change is so fleeting that you convince yourself you imagined it.

"And what is so amusing?"

"Nothing, it's just... that's exactly what Pam said."

This time, you know you aren't imagining it: Eric's shapely lips compress into a hard line. "Tell me," he demands.

You hasten to explain.

Flashback to girls' night with Pam...

"I don't get why Eric hasn't slept with you yet," she says, looking you up and down with blatant approval.

You scoff, and take a long sip of your drink, trying to ignore the way your stomach backflips at the thought. "I'm seeing someone, Pam. He knows that."

But the progeny simply rolls her eyes, and says, "That's never stopped him before."

Back to the present...

"And then I resolved to ask you myself," you finish, holding his gaze.

For a while, Eric simply stares back at you.

It's easy to get lost in his eyes. His pupils are still dilated, and you can see yourself reflected in them, framed by a ring of icy blue.

When at last Eric speaks, his question catches you off guard. "And what did you expect me to say? What did you want me to say?"

Now it's your turn to fall silent.

"I don't know," you say, finally- though that's not entirely true. You had sort of thought he might reject you, or flirt with you, or maybe seriously offer to rectify his oversight on the spot. You hadn't been sure what he would say, and that was what had made you curious enough to ask. As for what you wanted- well...

Silence stretches between the two of you long enough for you to become unsure of yourself. What if you've seriously overestimated your relationship with Eric? What if this level of familiarity, or this kind of teasing banter, was never actually welcome?

As if to confirm your fears, the door yawns open behind you and Eric is suddenly seated behind his desk.

"Well, last I checked, having sex is about sleeping together. It's not something I do to you- at least, not without consent. Unless you think so little of me?" Eric raises his eyebrows at you.

He's never spoken to you like this before. His voice is light and pleasant, as if he's talking to a stranger he has to be nice to, but there's a cold edge to his words that makes you flinch.

"Of course not, Eric. I didn't mean--"

"Good. Now that we've resolved that misunderstanding, perhaps you'll let me get back to work?"

The dismissal stings, but you nod curtly and turn to leave, nearly bumping into Pam on your way out. She raises her eyebrows at you, but you've had enough conflict for one evening, and just run straight for the exit.

[drdemonprince]

is it (internally too I guess) transphobic of me to be cautious dating someone who just started transitioning?

I don't want my opinions and preferences on how femmes look to be a factor as a tme non-binary femme. I don't want or need her to change herself (or not!) in a certain way, to be clear; I just assume that attraction can fluctuate for both of us and she is the kind of person to take relationships seriously quite quickly. can't tell if I'm overthinking it.

if that's too specific and/or obviously fucked up (I'm honestly not sure) I'm super sorry. my gender presentation stuff is a hornet's nest I am not addressing as nothing helps so I'm really happy for her.

thanks for reading

I think this is actually a really lovely and conscientious question and that your fears are reasonably founded!

The early years of transition are quite emotionally perilous for people and they try our romantic relationships quite heavily; there's a reason I've seen prominent trans people on Twitter claiming that you should end your relationship the moment you come out and begin to transition. I don't fully agree with that advice, but I think a lot of people who try to bluster through an existing relationship while transitioning do end up living to regret it, myself included. I tried to transition gradually to make all the shifts bearable for my partner and me, but that only fomented resentment and insecurity on my end and complete bafflement about how far this was all gonna "go" on my ex's end and ultimately it just meant we drifted apart painfully over the course of years instead of swiftly. it wasn't pretty.

During the first couple of years of transition, people try on all kinds of new styles and presentations, explore new sexual roles, try on different mannerisms, join new friend groups, adopt new self-narratives and frames on past events, and much more. And it's also an incredibly vulnerable time in terms of physical safety out in public AND emotional safety in bearing one's evolving self to close loved ones, and even the slightest reaction from another person can have massive ripple-effects on how we view ourselves and the 'success' of our transitions for a long period afterward.

I think it's very wise and appropriate for you to be concerned that your own reactions to your partner's transition might unduly influence them! I have seen T4T couples with bad boundaries erupt into chaos over this kind of thing in so many ways.

Sometimes the babier trans in the relationship molds herself too much on her more seasoned partner's transition and personal style. Other times, the babier trans leans heavily on the more experienced trans partner for advice and psychological transition related doula-ing, leaving the more experienced trans partner feeling used (Casey Plett has a lot of short stories about this dynamic! check out A Dream of a Woman for a story about a trans girl who becomes disillusioned with her cute, sweet, perfectly supportive cis boyfriend the moment she realizes he isn't so cis, and then ends things). I've even seen trans-trans couples break up in a hail of drama and abuse accusations, all because one partner was triggered by the (misgendering kink) porn preferences of the other partner.

There are so many ways to be trans, and each one of us who has been trans for a while has a lot of strong opinions about the subject. Even if in theory we support the body autonomy and self-expression of every other trans person, in practice we come to relationships with a mess of dysphoria triggers, trauma responses, aesthetic preferences, medical know-how, load-bearing neuroses, and sexual role hang ups to bear, and sometimes when our existing soft spots bash up against a newly-transitioning person's raw wounds, it hurts everybody.

I think it might be easier for you to know this newly-out trans person as a friend than as a romantic partner at this time. It sounds like your gut is telling you something like that, too. You mentioned that she gets attached very quickly. She's in a really open, raw position right now and will probably need a lot of support as she transitions, and she might also be really desperate for approval and for feelings of safety because of it too. And you're not bad or transphobic for wanting to avoid getting wrapped up in all that.

I think it's really big of you to recognize you have your own hang-ups and that they might unconsciously influence her and how her transition goes, too. a lot of trans people don't interrogate how their own expectations and baggage might radiate into their partners (for instance, a lot of TME nonbinaries with trans femme partners pressure those partners into staying masculine to some degree, and keeping their penises sexually available to them for penetration, and it's really harrowing and traumatic). I don't get the vibe you're the type to do anything like that and I don't even know if you're TME, but you get the idea. Trans people aren't inherently pure, we hurt one another and turn one another into symbols of what we desire and what we fear and what's hurt us when really we should be regarding each other as distinct people.

It's fine to not want to date someone newly transitioning. Do you know how many gay people I've met who've said they'll never date newly out or questioning people again? A ton! Being with someone who is newly out requires a lot of patience and emotional caretaking, and some people have no taste for that or aren't equipped to do it, and that's fine. I'd be disinclined to date someone newly out for the most part too, at least if they were also trans masc. I'd be too afraid of accidentally punishing them for reminding me of my earlier self, and that's not fair.

[teddybearspankingoffurski]

[Shit shit shit shit shit. He didn't want to make him cry, not again. Ted felt his heart ache as Paul pulled away from him, each tear that fell making him feel infinitely worse. He was just looking too far into this- fucking of course he did. That's how he lived every day of his goddamn life and now it was biting him in the ass.

He scrambled to his feet as Paul tried to step away, reaching for him still.]

Baby wait- no- no I don't- you aren't I know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry- you know how I am I overthink everything and-

[he felt panic rising in his chest. Paul would hate him for the rest of their lives after this wouldn't he? It would certainly be justified. He was accusing his lover, his best friend of being a killer. Not only that, but accusing him of killing a mutual friend.]

I'm sorry angel I know you were friends too. I get too in my head sometimes, please you know that. Her death has been on my mind and I just- I was thinking too much im sorry please don't make me go- please?

[He was so desperate for love, for affection. Paul had trapped him. There was no one else to turn to. Nothing else to turn to for comfort but him. Bravo, you twisted little fuck, bravo.]

*Paul fixed his tie a bit, combing his hair back into place as he heard Ted's car pull into the driveway. He sighed nervously, trying to cool his nerves.*

You'll be fine! You've literally slept together, why are you stressed?

*He shook himself off and adjusted everything one more time. He called upstairs to let Richie know he was leaving and walked out onto the porch, waving and smiling at Ted. He opened the car door and hopped in, buckling his seatbelt and awkwardly clambering to adjust the seat.*

[Ted had to hype himself up for this, and Pete was a little put off by it. The kid had never witnessed Ted preparing for an actual date, and it was an odd experience to say the least. Ted was pacing the house the whole time, constantly checking in for an opinion on what to wear. Pete denied practically everything, so Ted took matters into his own hand and by God it showed. He looked like someone's pimp in the 70's, which of course he thought was the opitime of sexiness. Pete told him as such and Ted thanked him with a big fat grin.

Now that he was watching Paul come out of the house though, he was starting to get a nagging feeling that maybe 'pimp daddy' was the wrong vibe to go for.

Regardless, he leaned over and pecked his cheek happily.]

You look fuckin' amazing y'know

[sgcairo]

Is there moments/times where dottore feels so lonely? Like times where has the “oh so I am lonely” realization? IF SO PLS SPEAK OF THEM

I can think of one particular instance right off the top of my head, and ironically enough: it's when he's with another person.

Laying in bed with an asleep Pantalone is Dottore Is Sad Hours and you can't tell me otherwise. It's too quiet, and Pantalone's room is just... melancholy if it were a place. It's so soft compared to what Dottore is used to, so laying on a plush mattress while having blankets piled on top of you with just enough to be warm and comfortable- It's a prime time to wind down and for your brain to go absolutely bonkers with overthinking.

In this case, Dottore realizes that he is alone in a brilliant moment of self reflection. He doesn't think about his life much, but in a moment of reminiscing about the past, he realizes that he's been doing it all alone this entire time.

Part of him is jealous that Babytorre gets all of Pantalone's love and support. The other part begs to differ, as his success would've never happened if he hadn't done it his way. He weighs the price over and over again, which only pushes him further into his realization that maybe it would've been different if someone believed in him. Or maybe it would've been worse, because they would've been taken down with him as his weakness.

Of course, this whole thought spirals into an out of control storm, which leads to Dottore rolling over and, for lack of a better word: moping.

"I can hear you thinking from here, Doctor." Oh great, now Pantalone's awake.

"You're disturbed. Tell me about it, it'll keep you awake all night if you don't."

"A bold accusation."

"Not an accusation. A fact. That big brain of yours doesn't know how to calm down."

"...Perhaps it doesn't."

"You're not arguing with me and it's unsettling."

Well, Dottore really doesn't have the energy to argue, but sure. Pantalone can think what he wants, Dottore will not be caved so easily.

"It's called being tired, Regrator. Though your alcohol abuse doesn't seem to know her."

"She started my alcoholism, don't talk to me about being tired. I live in a state of exhaustion."

"That makes two of us."

Blah, blah, these two can literally go on forever, let's skip to the juicy part.

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Leaving your family behind."

"I didn't have much of one, so no. My brother made his choice, and I made mine. I have everything I could want in this world, why would I regret it?"

"Sometimes what people say and how they feel are very different things, Regrator."

"I know that full well. I also know that something's bothering you."

"Go back to sleep, it's nothing terribly important."

"Is it now? Then why are you making a sour face?"

"Just tired. Go back to bed, it's nothing."

"Fine, fine. But Zandik..." "Don't call me that."

"Dottore, then. If you do need to talk... I might listen."

That's the closest that Dottore has ever gotten to an I'm here, I believe you.

Oh how he wishes he had it before.

[theeroticahub]

A Picture With Sis

Hey

The short text message had popped onto my phone screen unexpectedly. It was from my baby sister, Noah. I had recently had to move back in with our parents after a few personal disasters in my own life, so I was suddenly seeing a lot more of her. Which was very strange, as I had left home for school and then work on the opposite side of the country when she was all of twelve. Now she was nineteen and...honestly still as much of a brat as when I left. While she had grown, she remained short and flat as a washboard. The real draw--not for me, her older brother, of course--was her ass. Noah ran track in high school and still found time to jog almost every morning. This gave her a bubble butt that she constantly kept in shape and loved to show off.

What's up I texted back

I waited as those three unholy "still typing dots" danced on screen.

R u gonna be home tonight?

Yeah, probably.

Do u want to watch a movie or something.

Now, this was very odd. As long as I had been back, Noah had wanted nothing to do with me. Like I said, she was still a bit of a brat, even as an adult. I didn't take it too personally. Honestly, before I was forced to come home, I never made much of an effort to visit. I talked to my parents on the phone, but Noah always seemed busy with her own life and her own friends. I was far away and she was busy growing up. Maybe that's all it was: a little sister wanting to reconnect with a sibling she hadn't seen hide or tail in seven years.

I'd be down for a movie.

She "heart" reacted and texted back: ok, what should we watch?

Hey, isn't this your idea???

I know, but I never know what to pick :( That's why I never watch movies alone.

You're on Netflix all the time?

Uh, watching tv? like a normal person???

Okay, I'll pick something out that we'll both like.

She heart reacted again and replied: it's a date.

The conversation wrapped up after that, but it was still all so strange. It's a date. That seemed so out of character for Noah to say, especially to me of all people.

I decided I was overthinking it and got back to my day. After all, part of me was looking forward to getting a chance to just hang out with my sister. The only hurdle now was picking a good movie.

(- - -)

Evening rolled around and I made my way to the living room. I had to pass by the kitchen to get there and found Noah by the oven.

"Are you cooking something?" I asked her.

Noah turned to me and for a second, I was struck by how much she'd grown up while I was gone. I gave her a hard time, but she really had become a beautiful woman. She had on a blue dress that complimented the runner's body she had given herself. After wearing her hair short for years, she had grown out her dark curls to perfectly frame her face. When her eyes caught mine, I froze in place.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm making us some pizza for our movie."

"You didn't want to just

order out?"

Noah made a mock offended expression, "Are you scared to try my cooking?"

I laughed and replied, "No, I'm sure it'll be great. I guess I'm just used to movie nights being low threshold events. Order out, stream something, pass out on a couch..."

"Oh, like all your movie nights end on a couch," she said, rolling her eyes. Again, it was a strange comment. I was talking about watching movies in general, and suddenly she's accusing me of Netflix and Chilling...not that she was off base. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely one of those kids who used "cinephile" as a personality description for a couple years, but I wasn't above using the storied medium of film as a pretense to invite a girl over and hopefully get a piece of ass.

Which made the whole situation stranger because Noah was obviously not a piece of ass. I wouldn't deny that I thought she was very attractive, but that was an objective aesthetic response. I already had no idea where this night was going.

(- - -)

Noah pulled her pizza out of the oven --- diced chicken, banana peppers, black olives, and a creamy alfredo sauce for toppings--- and we settled on our parents' couch to stuff our faces and watch something.

"Are Mom and Dad going to join us?" I asked.

Noah gave me a funny look and then said, "Nah, they've got a thing?"

"A thing?"

"Yeah," she said, and I didn't press further. Like I said, this night was getting weird.

I clicked through the myriad of apps on our parents' smart tv to my desired choice. It was a sort of fantasy-western mash-up movie that was a few decades old but I had been wanting to see for a long time. I was about to hit play when Noah stopped me.

"So, I was thinking..." she started to say.

"Yeah?"

"Did you maybe wanna drink while we're watching?"

Alcohol. In my experience, alcohol was not a good way to make it through the full runtime of a movie, especially when a cute girl was involved. What was going on? What was Noah thinking?

Of course, I had an obvious justification: she still couldn't buy alcohol herself. Our parents weren't super-conservative, but I imagine Noah wasn't getting quite as much booze in her living in their house as she had been during the school year.

"Sure, I could use a drink," I said, deciding not to argue the point, "I hope vodka's okay?"

"Vodka's my favorite!" Noah practically shouted. It was almost cute, "What do you have for mixers?"

"Uh, I don't know, check the kitchen."

"What you don't mix your drinks?"

"Straight vodka, baby," I told her, "I'm sure we can find you something. Maybe a screwdriver?"

"No," she said, her hand grabbing at my wrist, "I'll drink it straight."

The touch was unexpected. It rattled me a little. The whole night already had an off vibe and now this. Should I really be drinking with

my little sister? She was family.

It would be fine.

"Okay, I'll be right back," I said. Noah squealed in delight and gave me a peck on the cheek. I just smiled and averted my eyes, quickly making my way to my room for my secret stash. While Noah had only asked for vodka, I had paraphernalia for a few "other things" we could do, but I didn't want to push it. The last thing I needed was my kid sister trying to press me for weed and Adderall at odd hours of the night.

I made my way back to the kitchen with the bottle. Noah had already put out some glasses with ice.

"Oh, you used coasters, even," I said as I poured us each a drink.

"Well, of course," she said, "I'm not an animal."

We laughed and settled in to finally start the movie.

(- - -)

An hour later, I was seriously questioning my thought process over the course of the day.

We still had an hour of the film to go and had put a serious dent in the vodka. I was feeling pretty loose, so I could only imagine how Noah was holding up. Even after I had stopped pouring drinks for her, she just started to help herself. Tiny as the girl was, she drank like a monster.

None of this was the upsetting part, but it definitely enabled it: Noah and I were cuddled up like horny freshmen on a first date. We had been sitting close together at the beginning, but by this point in the movie she was basically on top of me. My little sister was sitting in my lap in a dress that I was suddenly very aware of being much, much too short. It had all happened pretty imperceptibly. It seem like she shifted herself a little closer to me every few minutes, but the more we drank, the less I thought of it. It was only in a brief moment of clarity that I realized we looked like that couple at a house show whose age difference you cringe at a little but don't say anything about. Sure, I lusted after eighteen year-olds the same as anyone, but once I left college and hit the real world, I gave up on hitting the high of that brand of fresh, young...you get the idea.

So that it was happening now, with my little sister of all people, was a little upsetting. Not that she seemed to mind: she was the one who had devoted the past hour to slowly planting herself in my lap. The weight of her ass pressed down on my crotch and it was honestly driving me insane.

At this point, I still had no idea what her game was, and I was so inebriated I couldn't think straight enough to make sense of what was going on, much less stop it.

In this haze of alcoholic and sexual confusion, I was ill prepared for Noah to turn to me with half-lidded eyes and a little smile on her face.

"This is a really, really good movie," she said, her words slurring a little, "You always pick such good movies."

She gave me a kiss on the lips and then added, "I love you."

"I love you too," I said back. It was all I could think to say. Events and feelings were piling up that I suddenly had no tools to make sense of. I was completely ill-equipped to understand what was going on.

"Really?" she asked, "because I love you lots and lots."

Noah had turned around and was now straddling my hips with her bare legs. Her hands found my shoulders and then the back of my neck. This was completely out of control. Her eyes still had that sexy half-lidded look. What was happening?

"Do you love me, lots and lots?" she asked.

This was when I started to lose control. My hands found Noah's hips and grasped them firmly, trying to hold her in place, afraid whatever illusion we were indulging in might collapse. I stared at her face. She really did have a beautiful face.

"Do I need to show you how much love you?" I asked her. I had no idea what I was doing. I was putting the moves on my sister, feeding her the kind of line I would feed some indie bimbo I met at a party or on tinder.

But Noah just bit her lip and nodded her head.

So I kissed her.

This wasn't a quick kiss like the last couple she had given me. We were making out. Her little pink tongue wrestling with mine. I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked, laughing too but also a bit indignant.

"You taste like pizza," I said. She started laughing harder and started kissing me again. We went at it like that for a while until I realized we had missed a sizable chunk of the movie and I had no idea what was happening. Noah noticed me glancing at the screen.

"I'm sorry," she said, between planting little kisses all over my face, "I know you were excited to watch that."

"I'll finish it another night," I told her.

"I'm tired," she said, suddenly pouty.

"You want me to take you to bed?" I asked and she nodded, "Ok, let's go."

Her dreamy little smile came back and we went back to making out. Without any warning, I moved my hands from her hips to the bottoms of her thighs and stood, lifting us both up. Noah yelped, but kept kissing me.

"Your room or mine?" I asked.

"Your room," she said, "I used to sleep in there all the time after you left."

"Because it's bigger?"

"Because it was yours."

Again, I was struck by confusion. I hadn't realized Noah had missed me at all, much less this much. She had been a pretty quiet kid and I had left, a surly preteen with a chip on her shoulder about her goofy parents. Then her big brother ran off to college on the opposite side of the country and left her alone. Was that why all of this was happening right now?

"My room it is," I said. Noah squealed and hugged herself close to me as I made our way through the house and up to my room. When we got there, we fell back onto my bed, Noah's body pressed between me and my mattress. This was out of control. I knew I should stop, but in the vodka haze, it just made sense to keep going.

"We need to get ready for bed," I told you, breaking the kiss again, "Unless you want us to wear our clothes to bed."

She nodded no this time and I got off her. I took off my pants on reflex, since I usually just slept in my t-shirt and underwear, but Isuddenly felt embarrassed at being exposed like this in front of my little sister. I shouldn't have been, as when I turned around, Noah had stripped off her dress to reveal she was almost completely naked underneath except for ankle socks and a flimsy pair of tiny panties that barely hid the dark happy trail that descended from her navel to the waistband and inevitably to a hairy little teen pussy I was suddenly in very close proximity to.

Part of me was screaming that I shouldn't be ogling my little sister, but another part of me was completely lost in what was happening. Her tits were a couple of perfect handfuls of female flesh. She was the most perfect girl I had ever seen. Better than any of my exes. Better than classic artwork. Better than porn.

Noah extended her arms out to me like a child demanding affection.

"Love me."

(- - -)

The rising sun and a ding from my phone woke me up in my now empty room. I rubbed my head, suffering from an intense vodka hangover, and took stock of the state of myself and my room. I had apparently fallen asleep naked and my bed was in total disarray: sheets on the floor, pillows thrown around, and blue dress and a pair of panties in a pile in the corner.

"So that did happen," I said to myself, "Why did she leave her clothes?"

I had to search around for my phone, which I finally found on the floor on the other side of the room, a message from Noah waiting for me

Hey Perv ;P

Where'd u go?

Miss me already?

I started to type out my reply when another message pinged on the screen:

Here's something to tide u over followed by a little heart.

The message came attached with a series of images. The first couple were just nudes of Noah--not distasteful, but a little weird for a brother to have--but the next few got increasingly obscene, ending in my little sister covered in cum.

wtf??

Instead of replying, she sent me a video, this time of her on her knees, sucking a cock I soon recognized as my own. From the angle of the shot, it was clear I had taken the video myself, and presumably the other pics Noah sent me.

Fuck, how drunk was I last night?

lol was all she said in reply.

This can't happen again, I told her. She went quiet after that. For the rest of the day, I wandered around and tried to process what had happened. I could recall almost all of the night before and while Noah certainly hadn't raped me, I blacked out right before the actual sex, which made my stomach turn. Had she just sucked me off and had me video it for her, or had we gone further? Why would my sister even want to get me drunk and have me violate her? My head was spinning and none of this made any sense to me. I was totally twisted up over it all.

Curiosity finally got the better of me and I made my way to Noah's room. Knocking on her door, part of me was hoping she wouldn't answer, that I could go on ignoring this whole bizarre situationInstead, the door slowly cracked open, revealing Noah standing there in an old t-shirt of mine and some pajama pants.

"Why didn't you text me?" Noah asked, clinging to the door, "I don't look cute, I don't even have make-up on."

"I just wanted to talk," I told her. Noah pulled me into her room and shut the door behind her. Without so much as another word, she pulled me into a sloppy kiss, her arms around my neck.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, planting little kisses all over my face and neck as I just stood there, completely perplexed, my hands instinctively moving to hold her hips. Even with all the feelings boiling in me, I couldn't ignore how sexy Noah actually was.

"I'm not mad," I told her, "I'm just confused. Why are you doing all of this? We weren't that close when I left."

Noah just bit her lip and cuddled up close to me.

"I'll explain, but can we move to the bed first?"

A little suspicious, I agreed anyway and crawled into my sister's bed with me. She stripped off her pajama pants to reveal her bare ass and pussy and cuddled up with me again. I almost said something, but I just sighed and put my arm around her.

"It started after you left," she started to explain, "I didn't realize how much I was going to miss you until you were gone, but then something happened. All the guys I tried to date, everyone who was interested in me, I always found myself comparing them to you. For whatever reason, you were my measure for what a boy should be. You were my high watermark. When I started to get good at masturbating, it was your face I saw when I came for the first and every time after. I've been sexually obsessed with you the entire time you were gone."

I just looked at her silently as she told me all of this, unsure how to even begin to respond.

"When you came back, I just completely lost it. I didn't want to hang out with my friends, I didn't want to go to work or do my school work, all I could think about was fucking you. I was up in this room rubbing out orgasm after orgasm the entire time you've been back and you didn't even know. It was so frustrating I thought I'd go crazy. You were my brother and I knew you'd never touch me or even make a pass at me, so I hatched a plan."

"To get me drunk and record it?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling out of my embrace to take her shirt off. She settled back into my arm completely naked except for a little gold Star of David necklace, her pale, little face framed by her long black hair the way her black pubic hair framed her perfect young pussy.

"I definitely would have never thought to do any of this on my own," I told her, moving my hand to her tit, "but the blackmail was a nice touch."

Noah moaned as I groped her, "Blackmail? Those were for me. The only thing that gets me off more than thinking about fucking you is watching myself get fucked by you."

"I didn't realized I had such a pervert little sister," I said as I moved to cup her mons, penetrating her pussy lips with my middle finger. She gasped at the feeling of my hands inside her.

"Keeping doing that," she said, "Your pervert little sister loves when her big brother touches her."

I kept working her clit. Surprisingly, it wasn't long until she was moaning and shaking, the throes of orgasm taking over her body. She really must havebeen wound up. Leaving her splayed across the sheets as she hit her come down, I quickly shucked off my clothes, my cock standing at ready to penetrate her once again. It seemed as if she had only just caught her breath as I mounted her. She let out another cute little moan as my cockhead penetrated her body. Hearing her squeak and moan in surprise at the intensity of the sensations sent me flying over the edge. I drove my cock home.

Balls deep in my little sister's pussy, I just lost all control. I'd been with a fair share of partners, but this was different. This was absolute, raw animal fucking. I wanted to possess her body and make my sister into my personal human sex toy. The intensity was unlike anything I had ever experience before.

Of course, with all that build up--and her hands clawing at my neck and back, thrashing under me in pleasure--it wasn't long until I felt the semen churning inside of me, read to burst.

"I'm gonna..." I started to say. Noah interrupted by pulling me into a kiss, locking her legs around me at the same time, so I had no escape. I shot my full load up into her waiting, cum-hungry womb. I was...in heaven.

"Fuck," Noah whimpered under me, "It feels so hot inside me. It feels so good."

"I love you," I told her, surprisingly myself.

She just smiled and kissed me again, "I love you too, big brother."

I collapsed onto the bed as Noah bounced up and ran off to use the bathroom. It was only then, when it was too late to do anything, that the immensity of what we had done really hit me. We had committed a crime. We had committed a sin. We were no longer sibling but lovers.