#drunk drivel

[shitpostroundhouse]

What is another word for drivel? | Drivel Synonyms - WordHippo Thesaurus

nonsense hogwash

twaddle balderdash

rubbish poppycock

garbage malarkey

baloney claptrap

blather bunk

piffle codswallop

bull rot

tosh bunkum

guff trash

hooey crock

hokum flapdoodle

moonshine bilge

humbug folly

boloney bosh

fiddlesticks applesauce

tommyrot gibberish

horsefeathers blither

crapola foolishness

blarney silliness

senselessness blah

stupidity malarky

slush fudge

hokeypokey jazz

muck nuts

flannel tripe

taradiddle trumpery

drool hoodoo

tarradiddle blatherskite

buncombe fiddle

beans falderal

eyewash cobblers

folderol nerts

punk phooey

wack waffle

[anto-pops]

I drank so much wine last night and woke up to find my notes app open with this typed out

[tulparty]

Mouthwashing Headcanons: Capitano Edition

Captain Grant Curly. A 43 year old man that's 6'7'' and around 250+ pounds of muscle. incredibly intimidating when in his presence yet he somehow makes you feel just so, so comfortable around him.

White™ (British + Canadian American that grew up in the US)

Joined Pony Express as a mechanic-in-training around 10 years before the events of the game

Professional to a T. Fully fluent and corporate drivel to everyone on the Tulpar's dismay, but not afraid to turn it off to help someone. (i.e Jimmy's eval and Anya's breakdown)

Bisexual disaster that thought he was straight until his 20s. He also has a tendency to get infatuated with the ones he close with.

His main love language is touch. He does things like pats your back, taps your shoulder to get your attention, or even just rests his hand on your shoulder when talking to you. High fives. Fist bumps. those kinds of things. He also loves both saying and receiving words of affirmation.

Physically healthy as an ox, but struggles a lot mentally. He deals with insomnia, anxiety, depression, DPDR, C-PTSD, and selective mutism. The poor man gets too stressed and just. Shuts down.

Despite being focused on his physical health he is an off and off social smoker. He doesn't buy any himself but will ask for one if they start smoking.

He has a debilitating fear of needles and blood will pass out every time he sees either or gives blood.

He kinda slept around and was a(n unintentional) heartbreaker in Highschool/College while trying to figure himself out. He's of course settled down since then but he still has a. uh. "High drive."

Former frat boy that can still party like one at his age. He never gets blackout drunk though... not anymore at least. Jimmy has some great stories about him.

He is surprisingly a bit of a shit stirrer and ornery. He never does anything serious but he just does little things. Maybe Daisuke's mad that he can't spend time with Anya, and instead of telling him that she's busy and he can't do anything about it, he goes to her and tells her that Daisuke would just LOVE to spend time with her, but for some reason he's having issues.

For another example. I fully believe this man gave Daisuke extra sweetener. Only the captain had the code for it, and while there's like. a myriad of ways to work around it I just wanna think Daisuke begged him for some and he caved.

While some of his obliviousness is just... Curly being oblivious, a substantial amount of it is him faking it. Hinting that he knows what you're talking about but not saying it kind of stuff if that makes sense? If you've worked with upper management you know what I'm talking about lol.

He's not one to get angry but very much blows up when he does. He holds a lot of resentment because he wants to keep the peace and doesn't say what's on his mind and it all overflows whenever someone crosses a line with him. Jimmy throughout his years of Jimmyisms has only ever made him deeply angry once, and he seems genuinely kinda sad and terrified when he talks about it

Headcanon voice is the talented GianniMatragrano! Been a fan of his for years now :)

Mouthwashing divider by sister-lucifer!

Curly (You are here) Anya Jimmy Daisuke Swansea General MW headcanons (soon!)

[ericsprincess]

open the keys, open the mind

nc-17, Jeong Jaehyun/Reader, Na Jaemin/Reader, Jeong Jaehyun/Na Jaemin, step-sibling incest, Jaehyun and Jaemin are step-brothers, modern au, m/f/m threesome, vaginal sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, 

~~~

Your boyfriend brings you home for the first time. 

~~~

Oh damn, you curse in your head and congratulate yourself on this absolute catch, as your hand sneaks under Jaehyun’s cozy sweater and you discover that he has a set of very chiseled abs that he was until now successfully hiding under his cute hoodies and grandpa sweaters. You can’t resist running up his body with your hand almost up to his chest, savoring the feel of each hard separate muscle, feeling the divots between them and the warmth of his skin. He likes it, likes being touched and sighs into your mouth as you kiss and touch him and the sound of it makes you smile a little. His voice is so nice. He, in his entirety, is just so nice.  

You have him pressed against the door of his apartment, kissing him desperately with one hand on his neck, pulling him down, closer to you, and the other one wherever you can reach, while he is trying to blindly put the key into the keyhole to let you both in. He’s not even close to his target, just barely poking the door with each failed attempt, but neither of you pays much attention to it, despite the urgency you’re making out with - you both want more, both want to quickly get into the apartment, into Jaehyun’s bed where you can finally tear the clothes off each other, but neither is yet willing to take even a quick pause to unstick from the other to get an actual move on this. 

But the desperation is real though - you and Jaehyun have been dating casually for three months and just last week you have mutually decided that you like each other enough to make it official. And it made you really happy. Everything with Jaehyun is just so comfortable and easy. So much, it even feels too easy at times. At first you weren’t sure about it, you were afraid he would turn out to be a pushover, or worse, an indecisive manchild that will expect you to do all the work in the relationship, but he’s far from that. His assertiveness is quiet, his boundaries are firm and his opinions are always there, even if he doesn’t always feel like expressing them. So for the most part, he’s happy to let you decide about everything you want, simply taking pleasure in watching you getting your way, but ever so often he likes to surprise you with something of his own initiative - whether a date idea or an unexpected, very thoughtful gift, clearly remembering all of the drivel you’ve been flooding him with. Not only that, but despite him not being that much of a talker (unlike yourself), you always manage to find out something interesting about him. You’re always looking forward to getting to know every little random fact about him.  Which means you’ve been complementing each other very well so far - he’s not stifling your spirit, rather enhancing it. He makes your days brighter. And you hope that it’s mutual. 

So today, after your first real date as a couple, there is an event you’ve been both carefully skirting about and silently anticipating with somewhat unspoken agreement - it’s going to be the first time you’re going to have sex. Well, not technically, since, to your endless shame, your first meeting was a random (very) drunk hook up in a dirty club bathroom, where you let Jaehyun fingerbang you until you saw stars, while he was humping your thigh like a horny dog and cumming in his pants. You don’t remember much else from that evening, just that you somehow managed to exchange numbers and then the morning after you woke up with the worst hangover in your life and one unread message - “hey, it’s jaehyun. do you remember last night?”

At first you felt too embarrassed to reply, but hey - it’s not like he wasn't there with you, doing all those things together. So you replied and a day later you found yourself sitting in a cafe with a very handsome man whose oddly preppy clothes and calm demeanor would never hint on the fact that he would hook up with someone in a club bathroom. Or that he would even go to a club in the first place. But he was cute and funny and you were sold on him from the beginning. And when you blushingly suggested that if anyone asks, you should just say you met on Tinder (“like normal losers”), he laughed with his deep warm voice and when he nodded with a smile that had his dimples showing, you felt it in your heart. 

Which brings you here - into the poorly lit hallway in front of Jaehyun’s apartment when he’s finally managed to open the front door. You stumble inside together, laughing as Jaehyun is hastily trying to take the key out and close the door at the same time, but when you turn towards the living room, you both stop in your tracks at the unexpected sight. 

There on the sofa in front of the TV lies a young man, lazily splayed, with one hand in a bag of chips and the other scratching his belly. He looks up from the sofa as you interrupt, but his face shows only indifference. And he’s very handsome - with bleached blonde, almost platinum hair and a beautiful, doll-like face with big eyes. He seems to be younger than Jaehyun (a student, maybe?), dressed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants and looks like he’s at home, which is strange, since as far as you know, Jaehyun is supposed to live alone. 

“Hi,” the stranger greets, with a surprisingly deep-voiced drawl that does not match his pretty face at all. He smiles a second later, as if he’s suddenly remembered he’s supposed to do so, but it’s not a sincere or a warm smile, rather an oddly predatory one, full of teeth. It makes you almost nervous, despite nothing about him being outwardly hostile, not by a long shot. 

“Oh..hi?” you answer. “Who is that?” you whisper to Jaehyun, confused. You didn’t expect a visitor putting a damper on your plans. 

“I don’t know him,” mumbles Jaehyun, while scratching his nose. 

“I’m his brother,” drawls the man from the sofa, not bothering to get up to properly introduce himself. He does put away the bag of chips though and brushes off the crumbs off his t-shirt.  

“Stepbrother.”

“Same difference,” replies the stranger. 

An awkward silence falls onto the room. Nobody is saying anything. Jaehyun seems fully focused on an imaginary spot on the carpet and you don’t feel like it’s your place to speak up, since you’re the guest here. So you’re just kind of standing awkwardly, not entirely sure how the atmosphere suddenly got so tense. Why is it so tense even? you think. It’s just a brother. You don’t understand why Jaehyun is suddenly acting almost like a child caught stealing cookies. 

There should not be a reason for Jaehyun to be so awkward at the situation of his brother meeting his girlfriend. Ironically, the stranger on the sofa does not seem awkward at all. In fact, it’s almost as if he’s enjoying the weird atmosphere.  

He’s looking at the two of you with interrogative eyes and you know he’s already put two and two together. His older brother, Jaehyun, brought home a woman and the purpose of the visit is clear as a day, from the way you stumbled into the apartment, the way how your clothes are already a bit messed up and your lips are red from kissing. 

"Can I watch? There is nothing on TV right now," he asks suddenly, not bothering with any pretense. His unwavering smile is unsettling and you feel as if his eyes could see right through you and straight up read all your thoughts.  

“Just ignore him,” says Jaehyun, suddenly awakened from his thoughts, but looking very tired and grabbing you by your hand and pulling you along as he’s heading out of the living room. “Don’t bother us Jaemin, I mean it.” he throws over his shoulder, not waiting for Jaemin’s reply.

He pulls you into his (nice, tidy and clean, as you quickly take a notice) bedroom and closes the door behind you. He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. 

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t expect him to be here,” he apologizes. 

“Does he not live with you? He looked all cozy there,” you ask, confused. 

“No, thank god. He has summer vacations and knows how to pick a lock. He comes and goes whenever he likes and usually it’s not a problem. I guess I did not think about the possibility that he decides that today he likes my sofa more than our parents’ one,” he shakes his head. “Sorry for the surprise. We can postpone the…” Jaehyun vaguely waves his hand, still not quite able to put it into words “if you are not in the mood anymore. I can either drive you home or we can just chill,” he suggests. 

“Are you crazy? Our...plans…are still on,” you step closer to him, pulling him into your arms and kissing him softly. “There is nothing that could ruin the mood for me, not with how much I’ve been wanting you ever since the first time, you know?” you laugh into the kiss and he gently squeezes your waist, agreeing. You’re glad he’s also not being deterred by the unexpected company. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” you admit. 

And you will not say it out loud but…the thought of Jaehyun’s hot baby brother possibly overhearing you two having sex sounds more appealing than it should.  

From then on it’s almost a whirlwind, Jaehyun quickly tears all the clothes off you and pushes you on the bed, letting you softly fall on your back. He takes off his shirt, but is way too impatient to deal with his trousers. His shirt hasn’t even landed on the floor and he’s already kneeling in front of the bed, spreading your legs and diving face first. 

He’s eating your pussy with laser focus, as if it were the only thing that mattered at that moment. And he’s clearly not new to this, he knows how to start slowly, how to entice and make you want more. It doesn’t seem like he will need any kind of guidance whatsoever, so you just lie down and enjoy the warm and wet feeling and the stimulation of his tongue and lips on you. 

But then, a few minutes into this, when you’re already warmed up enough and you can feel the arousal building, the bedroom door behind Jaehyun slowly and silently opens, revealing Jaemin, standing in the doorway. He doesn’t announce himself and makes no sound - just leans his shoulder on the doorway and watches. 

You gasp from the surprise, but you realize quickly you don’t want Jaehyun to find out, not yet. So you distract from your mistake by grabbing a fistful of his black hair, pushing you more into your pussy. And he likes that, he enjoys the pain of his hair being pulled, you can tell from a muffled moan he lets out and the way he squeezes your thighs, holding you firm and close to his face. 

A minute passes, with Jaehyun dutifully eating you out like a last meal, not knowing that you’re squirming so much not only because of his tongue getting you close to your orgasm, but also because of the way Jaemin is staring at you. Intense, contemplating, prying cold eyes cataloguing every reaction you make whenever Jaehyun changes the tempo or flickers his tongue just right. 

“Is he good?” asks Jaemin casually, as if he couldn't tell from the obvious way you’re enjoying yourself.

You can feel Jaehyun tense for a second, but he doesn’t stop doing what he’s doing. His eyes open and flicker up to take a quick look at you though. He doesn't need to check for your comfort, you’re not in distress, rather the opposite. The combination of Jaehyun’s skill, the unashamed voyeur and the fact that Jaehyun won’t stop despite knowing he’s being watched by his brother is so powerful, that you are coming almost immediately, holding on to Jaehyun’s head for dear life as you’re twisting in pleasure, that’s so strong you don’t even remember the last time you came like that. 

With Jaehyun’s help you slowly come down, and when your orgasm is finally done, you let his hair go. He straightens up, sitting on his heels in front of the bed. His hair is a mess, he’s blushing red up to his chest, sweaty, with his face wet and glistening from your juices. He’s still catching his breath. 

Jaemin moves from the doorway and sits on the bed right next to you. He looks at kneeling Jaehyun who looks up back at him. 

“Can I have a taste?” he whispers and leans forward, as if he were about to kiss him. Jaehyun flinches at the last moment, but he realizes he’s being fooled when Jaemin only licks him up the cheek playfully. “Tasty.” he winks back at you, smiling his shark smile again. 

Jaehyun looks at him questioningly, with one eyebrow raised. 

“There is still nothing on TV,” Jaemin shrugs, as if the explanation should have been obvious. 

Jaehyun stares at him, contemplating, and then at you. You can see the imaginary wheels spinning in his head, trying to sense out whether you’re ok with his brother being here. Whether he’s ok with his brother being here. 

“Y/N, what do you think?” he turns to you. Oh. He’s in.

You take a second to pretend you’re actually thinking, even though there is absolutely no need to. 

“What do I think? I think you should go kiss your brother,” you smile smugly, almost vibrating with anticipation of Jaehyun’s reaction.  

“Stepbrother,” he whispers, grabbing Jaemin roughly by his jaw and kissing him, pushing his tongue into Jaemin’s mouth immediately. It’s not like any of the kisses he’s ever shared with you. It’s a lot more aggressive, and you can see how Jaemin melts into it, immediately submitting to Jaehyun’s silent power. You realize you’re similar in this - both full of talk and attitude, but ultimately giving in to the stronger one. Maybe that’s why Jaehyun likes you. 

They kiss for a while for your enjoyment, Jaehyun keeping Jaemin firmly under his lead, but eventually letting the kiss become more gentle, almost sweet. It ends with a few cute sweet pecks that Jaehyun gives Jaemin, whose eyes are closed. He’s smiling a little. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for years,” Jaemin whispers, almost soundlessly, as they finally separate from each other, and you would laugh at the shared sentiment, except you find that you don’t really want to ruin the moment, But you really get it. It hasn’t been that long for you as for Jaemin, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. 

Jaehyun reaches back to his jean pocket and takes out a little foil square. He hands the condom to Jaemin.

“Be good,” he says. It sounds both like a permission and a warning. 

Jaemin strips himself in a flash, revealing a bit of his impatience and youthful enthusiasm in an adorable way. One second he’s sitting clothed on a bed, the next he’s naked, settling between your legs while ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. His body is beautiful. He’s a bit shorter than Jaehyun and he has less muscle too, but he’s not behind in beauty. Just different, younger, not yet having caught up to his older brother. They pose a nice contrast next to each other - gloomy-looking Jaehyun with his black hair and pale skin, the epitome of Snow White beauty, while Jaemin’s skin is golden, hair almost white and his smile is blinding. Handsome pair of brothers, even if not alike at all. 

“How does she usually like it?” Jaemin asks Jaehyun as he’s rolling the condom on. “Missionary? From behind?” 

But Jaehyun doesn’t answer, instead he looks at you, prompting you to answer by yourself. And of course, Jaemin is quick to catch on that, before you have the chance to reply. 

“Oh. You don’t know? Was this supposed to be the first time? And you let me have her before you do?” he scoffs. “Well, aren’t you the perfect boyfriend?” he grins at his brother. 

Jaehyun just nods in pretend solemnity. 

“Of course I am. And I take care of what’s mine. There will be many other times,” he replies.  

“Then missionary will be perfect,” decides Jaemin. “I want her to see me well. First time with a new boyfriend should be memorable.”

He doesn’t waste more time and pushes in. You’re still so wet and relaxed from your first orgasm that there is no resistance or discomfort at all. And you have already started to get aroused just from watching them kiss. 

Jaemin feels good, you barely had time to take a glimpse at his cock, but it feels adequate, filling you well and reaching all the right places. His tempo is fast from the start, no doubt thanks to him being too pent up already, but you can’t complain as he’s not being rough with you at all. Not only he fucks you well but also the sight from under him is stunning, as his skin breaks into sweat and glistens, his abs and biceps straining to hold him up. You bring your hands up to grope at his pecs, pull and pinch at his nipples to spur him more, to make him lose his mind. He’s trying to hold his moans back, but every sound he’s not able to contain sounds like music to your ears. 

In between being fucked very thoroughly and a sight for gods thats being provided to you, a crackling sound of metal zipper brings your attention back to your boyfriend. Jaehyun unzips his jeans and kicks them off together with his underwear, revealing his hard cock, big and pale with flushed red tip. He’s been hard for so long his precum is dripping in slow sticky drops on the floor. You can’t take your eyes off it and you have a hunch you’re not the only one. 

Jaehyun steps closer to the bed next to your head and you don’t wait to be asked. You open your mouth and let him feed you his cock, while you take one hand off Jaemin’s tits and put it on Jaehyun’s cock to suck him better. You savor the taste of his precome, licking it off the tip, letting it drip into your mouth. 

It feels like a bliss, being both used and serviced by two hot men, worse, brothers. You’re barely thinking as you’re just enjoying the taste and the presence of your boyfriend’s cock in your mouth and the cock of his brother in your pussy, getting you close to an orgasm. 

Your eyes are closed, but as you sense a movement next to your face you blink them opened. Jaemin is leaning forward, his face close to yours and he looks like he would be about to kiss you, were your mouth not full of Jaehyun’s cock. But you know what he’s after. You pull Jaehyun’s cock out of your mouth and offer it to him, letting him lick and suck it along, together with you. 

You glimpse up at Jaehyun, who’s been watching all of this unfold, as he immediately, reflexively grabs Jaemin’s hair and you see he looks conflicted whether he should pull him off or push him down to suck his dick more thoroughly. But he notices your eyes and you wink at him playfully and that’s what does it. He pushes Jaemin closer. 

Jaehyun, having made up his mind, is now unashamedly moaning, as he’s watching his girlfriend and brother suck his cock together, occasionally sharing a little kiss, tongues touching over him. He’s been close for such a long time and he has barely the mental presence to warn you before he’s cumming all over your face, Jaemin catching some of it in his mouth too. Jaehyun slowly pulls away, squeezing out the last drop into your open mouth and then Jaemin is kissing you full on, spitting Jaehyun’s cum into your mouth too and then licking it all back, all of that while he’s fucking into you, frenzied and wanting nothing else, just to finally cum. You embrace him with both of your hands, one sliding down to squeeze his ass to push it deeper into you and then you’re both coming at once. You feel him twitch inside you as he’s pumping the cum along with your pussy spasming and it feels like double the orgasm for you, and at that moment you’re truly like a one body.

~~~

You’re just about to fall asleep. The bed is so soft and comfortable and you have an armful of a young blond man already fast asleep, with head right on your boobs, the rest of his body wrapped around you tightly like an octopus. Jaemin seems to have taken a liking to you in a matter of hours and has no reservation about showing it. He already planned somewhere where he wants to take you for dinner, while you were idly chatting while waiting for Jaehyun. He refused to tell you where and he didn’t call it a date per se, but…The glint in his eyes was telling enough. 

The bed dips a little on your other side as Jaehyun comes back from his shower, smelling all nice and clean and lies down next to you. He reaches over to kiss Jaemin’s forehead and pet his hair gently, then he gives you a sweet good night kiss and turns off the light. 

And then you sleep. 

~~~

a/n: a wise woman once said “you can’t spell incest without nct”. 

[jayjuno]

Bach is like A.I. generated Christian music- so perfectly boring and masculine

If I want pure cold mathematical pedantic precision in my music with a dose of classist religious dogma that means absolutely nothing to my pagan agnostic self? Then I listen to Bach, or to music that's been generated by A.I. programs.

But if I want to hear imperfect organic humanity with soul, philosophy, and emotion? Then I literally listen to everything else, starting with Mozart and Beethoven.

Give me the jubilant masonic symbolist melodies of Mozart or the enlightened motifs of Beethoven any day over the tired old "spiritual" soulless drivel of pathetic nymphomaniac hypocrites like Bach. I can hear his hypocrisy in every dull counterpointed note, and it makes me want to vomit.

As a woman, Bach's overly androidal output makes me sick to my stomach with its subtle toxic masculinity reeking in every bar and measure, as if my ears were being raped by a stupefied drunk. Genius? More like anti-intellectual, anti-emotional pissant garbage fed to the bourgeoisie so they can feel superior to American peasants who'd rather listen to Johnny Cash or The Beatles.

When I hear Mozart and Beethoven, I almost believe in a Heaven and in the possibility of a Higher Power. Their emotional feminine touch is part of what makes their music absolutely beautiful.

But when I hear a fugue, goldberg variation, or choral by Bach? All I hear is mediocre apathetic A.I. generated hell- a pedantic male hell that makes me want to convert to androgynous atheism out of spite.

[sterekcollabang]

Paw's Rewind

Writer: @definitively-different-drivel

Artist: @lalaithquetzallicaresi

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Camden Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Danny Māhealani Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical underage drinking twice, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Everyone Is Alive, Time travel fix most of it, Minor Scott/Allison/Isaac, Minor Jackson/Lydia/Danny with Jackson in middle Summary:

A gangly kid sat, unnaturally still, save for solemn hazel eyes that tracked the pair of kids playing on the swings. He'd fill out later. He knew this. He didn't know why he did, just that it was an immutable fact, like the fact that Laura was the next alpha, or the fact that sometimes, he missed the scents of strangers so deeply it hurt, or the way he dreamed of horrible things that he knew in his heart would never come to pass. Scott pulled Mischief to stillness with a whisper. "It's that weird kid again. Should we call your dad?" A young Derek finds himself with strange memories and symptoms, estranging him from his family of birth, everyone except, of all people, Peter. Claudia Gajos takes note. Between the Stilinskis and Peter, things get rough a few times over but everything ends up ok in the end. Note: Three parts split into 5k chapters. Chapter 1: Derek is 10, Stiles is 7 Chapter 2-3: Derek is 13, Stiles is 10 Chapters 4-6: Derek is 21, Stiles is freshly 18 Mature for language, older teenagers getting drunk, and references to sex/sexual acts; nothing explicit on screen.

[Read Here]

[max1461]

Thought for a moment in the 2010s that we were entering a new serious era (e.g. 1920s, 30s, 40s), but it seems that we're instead in an increasingly tacky era (50s, 60s, 70s). Like look at the change in YouTube. Well you all are textheads you don't do video, I know that. But like. In 2017 there was ContraPoints. Agree or disagree with her opinions, what she was doing was conceptually and aesthetically serious. Even her early, low-production-value stuff. She was talking about incels and other internet shit, but the internet is part of the real world, that's fine. In fact that's what gave me hope for another serious era, people were finally talking about internet stuff the way 1920s German intellectuals or whatever talked about the cultural trends of their day. Maybe because Contra has half a philosophy PhD and was explicitly influenced by those German intellectuals.

Another example from a totally disjoint cultural niche was Digi a.k.a. Trixie a.k.a. Ygg Studios or whatever they go by now. Drunk, smelly, and unkempt—yes. Or at least so went the persona. Talking seriously about anime—also yes. When they claimed they were the only good anime reviewer on the internet it made a lot of people mad. But they were right!

There were thinkers, we had thinkers. My generation, or roughly my generation, had thinkers. To be clear, when I include Contra here I'm not including all of her ilk, I'm not including the leftist-theory-regurgitators and so on. But Contra herself was a thinker! Digi was a thinker! We had thinkers.

But that era is over now, on YouTube at least. I go on there and it's all algorithmic drivel. I look for anime content and as I've explained it's all about #hype and #epic and how the new season of whatever #hits different and other empty meaningless bullshit. No analysis, no thought, fundementally unserious bullshit. Tacky! It's tacky! The the YouTube thumbnail O-face is fucking 70s-ass fake wood paneling tacky bullshit!

MrBeast. I've never seen a MrBeast video but I hate him for what he represents. I used to watch this channel called Wranglerstar, he made videos about different types of axes and forest fire fighting equipment and various other stuff. "Modern homesteading" I believe was the tagline. And it was always evident that he was a far-right guy but who gives a shit, his videos where good. Serious videos about interesting topics, that a fucking normal guy might watch. Well around 2020 he basically started flooding his channel with covid conspiracy bullshit and "the Chinese are going to attack us any day!" bullshit and other unserious crap. And I had to stop watching. How could I find any of that compelling? It's vapid nonsense.

And I don't know if it's a shift in the algorithm or people becoming more savvy to the algorithm or what, but all of YouTube is like this now. Vapid clickbait empty meaningless bullshit for another tacky commercialized bullshit era.

And you know, I felt like it might just be localized to YouTube for a while, but I started to look around, and it just feels like everything is like this. Backsliding to the tacky times. God I hate tackiness. I hate unseriousness. I'm having a little meltdown. At least SMW kaizo hacks are having a renaissance. People are doing serious shit in that space, serious shit that is also not anachronistic, you know, it's kept up with the modern world. It addresses modern concerns (fun to play hard Mario). But it's serious. People are serious. One of the few serious things happening in my orbit.

Even in science it feels like people aren't serious anymore. You know, standard Sabine Hossenfelder complaint about particle physics. But I don't really know enough about that to say. Get the vibe that biology is still serious these days.

To be clear, everything I'm saying here is pure vibes. I'm just saying shit. I'm just saying shit that I feel. But I'll be deeply disappointed if I have to live my youth in another tacky era, god damn it. Even the 80s seem like they were better than this.

[chaifootsteps]

This Episode of Ask Chaifootsteps is called: Metallica Anon's Thoughts on Bluey 🤘

Well Chai, I just finished watching S1 of Bluey, all within six days as the episodes are only seven minutes long. Now I shall begin S2.

All I can say is... wow! Bluey is an abso-wacka-lutely fantastic show! I still can't believe I thought it was overhyped drivel (perhaps I was still deep in the red smog). I pretty much like every aspect of this show. The animation, the characters, the music, the stories, and even the messages. I find it admirable that Bluey isn't afraid to tackle more mature-ish subjects, such as consent or death or sleep deprivation. Honestly, Bluey is a show that just makes me feel good. In a way, it really reminds of Hey Arnold... except with anthropomorphic dogs. 🐶

As for issues, I barely have any. Sure, there are some characters that are uninteresting, and there are some episodes that boring or too on-the-nose. Also, not sure if this an issue, but there was a moment in the minisode "Browny Bear" where Led Zeppelin was mentioned, which rubbed me... not the wrong way, but in some way. Maybe I'm still not used to having real-world things mentioned in kids cartoons. (If LZ is canon, does this mean Metallica is also canon in Bluey?) 😵

Yet despite all my binging, I still haven't had a Bluey dream yet... Aw biscuits!

One more thing before I go, coconuts have water in them! 🥥

This was such a wonderful thing to read...thank you for this! It's absolutely true; not every episode of Bluey is a winner, but on the whole, this show's a delight and a gift. Every aspect of it is so carefully crafted and there's so much love behind it. Can't wait to hear more of your Bluey thoughts!

(The Muffin sleep deprivation episode might be one of my least favorites, but I find it hilarious that it's basically a kid-friendly PSA on the importance of caring for drunk friends. It should be shown at every college freshman orientation.)

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

This is the KHR/HP AU. Note it has themes of sexual assault and victim blaming. It’s short since this is just the first scene I wrote for it as well.

Waking up from a potion is difficult. It’s hard, and bitter and it takes the third day of Christmas Vacation for Harry to wake up, pale and run out of the room she shares with Hermione to throw up. Her friend follows her, eyes wide in shock.

“Harry! Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asks. Her friend pukes more before cautiously lifting her head.

“Malfoy has been dosing me with a love potion since the beginning of term. I’ve slept with him,” Harry chokes out. Hermione’s dark skin pales and her hand grips Harry’s shoulder tightly.

“I’m going to murder him,” she hisses. Her arms wrap around Harry and holds the shorter girl tight. Harry hugs back just as tightly.

-0-

Hermione stomps into the kitchen, ignoring the fact there is a meeting going on, to slam her hands on top of the table.

“Miss Granger-“ Professor McGonagall begins but Hermione cuts across her.

“Harry woke up to instantly puke and told me someone has been dosing her since the begging of term with love potions. We need a flusher.” Hermione said. “She also slept with the person, a male. So…”

Sirius stood up, the chair falling to the floor with a loud bang. “Who?!”

“You believe this drivel? Potter is obviously lying for attention,” Snape scoffs.

“I’m not surprised you’re a victim blamer,” Hermione tells her teacher coldly. And she isn’t. She believes in respecting her teachers and wants to think they know what’s best but… as time went on, and as she grew closer to Harry she felt herself wary. Harry didn’t trust teachers, or adults. The stories she told of how teachers listened to her relatives and how they acted made Hermione want to hit something.

(In Divination before Hermione quit they learned of Soulfire, fire that could bond people together and could be harnessed. Trewlany hadn’t acted as she usually did, half crazed or drunk, but instead had clearly stated that the class was to ‘ignore all claims of how certain fire types were supposed to work because it was made up in order to promote ridiculous stereotypes much like horoscopes done by the Prophet’. There was also a discussion on how if anyone was an Amber Soul, and the professor caught anyone trying to force a bond no one would like what she did to them.

The readings were private, but people’s eyes had glitters after it for a while that you could tell what their soul was. Hermione had Emerald Soulfire, which was supposedly connected to Hardening and taking damage. Hermione vowed to read more on it later. Ron had Ruby Soulfire, destruction and anger. Neville when they say him had Sapphire Soulfire, peace and tranquility.

Harry? Harry kept her eyes down and only dared look up later to reveal the Amber sparks. Hermione swore to take it to her grave. Ron and Neville to. No one was aware that the vow and the need to help their friend created a bond. A bond that influenced them all.)

“Excuse-“ Snape begins but Molly interupts, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“I’ve brewed this potion plenty of times. I’ll look into it,” the mother says in a highly controlled voice.

[ladyantiheroine]

You Taste Like Stars

Summary: Natasha sneaks Steve off during a New Years Eve party at Avengers Tower.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff

Requested by @exhausted-electron

Tags: Pegging, femdom, cunnilingus, lingerie, oral sex (fem receiving), Steve being a himbo.

Author's Note: I'm not actually a big Marvel fan, I wrote this for a friend. If I get some stuff wrong, please don't be mean to me, Marvel fans.

————————————————————————— Natasha had been eyeing the clock on the wall for what felt like hours. She wasn’t sure how long one had to stay at a party before it was no longer considered rude to lead. The tall champagne glass in her hand was down to a few drops and in the time it took her to finish it, she hadn’t gotten less bored.

From the windows atop Avengers Tower, she could get a beautiful view of the city below. Billions of glittering, golden lights that made you feel like a god looking down on the heavens. No doubt the kind of feeling that a guy like Tony was going for.

Tony was hosting the event, a New Year's Eve charity gala featuring the city’s elite at the very top floor of the former Stark Tower. He’d invited the whole crew over and Natasha felt obligated to go, even though hanging out with a bunch of rich assholes wasn’t her idea of a fun evening.

Hence, she found herself on a Saturday, standing on the edges of a party of formerly dressed socialites laughing over overpriced booze. She turned her back to the main room and stared out into the cityscape. Her reflection in the window stared back at her. Her red hair was neatly curled at her shoulder, and a new dress for the event. Long black velvet, off-shoulder with a slit up the skirt, and pearl necklace and earring to top it off.

Empty glass in hand, she turned and her gaze trailed across the room. Tony was in the center of the room, life of the party as always, spreading his arms wide as he explained to some investors about some of Stark’s newest projects. His audience of rich pricks stood in rapt attention.

As for the others…Thor was pounding back drinks at the refreshments table while the server licked her eyes up and down his body.  Bruce was already drunk and stumbling around and Clint was holding him up. Nick Fury was in the corner, speaking to three men in black suits who were clearly uninterested in champagne or chatting or watching Tony listen to the sound of his own voice.

And then, there was Steve.

Steve was standing with an unzipped glass of champagne in hand in front of two women who were clearly chatting him up. At least, clearly to Natasha. The two women stood close to Steve, asking him questions and touching him in small ways that were just subtle enough to be socially proper but communicated something flirtatious. They were smiling and giggling at Steve’s lackluster jokes.

Steve, of course, was oblivious. As far as his words and body language suggested, these two girls were just very friendly and very interested in his new tux. Natasha had been watching him on and off all evening. A part of her was amused by it. Poor Captain had no idea those girls were flirting with him because he was too sweet to think that such nice girls could have ulterior motives. But there was another part of her, one that curled darkly in her stomach, that she couldn’t quite explain or suppress with alcohol.

Finally, the two girls got tired of Steve’s unresponsiveness to their flirting tactics and they turned their attention to the circle surrounding Tony. Steve was left alone, looking slightly confused. Then, he turned and saw Natasha staring at him.

Natasha’s breath hitched and she averted her gaze. Steve sauntered over to him, a friendly smile on his handsome face.

“Never pegged you as the wallflower type, Miss Romanoff,” he said.

Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Not much else to do while Tony commands the room,” she said.

“Yeah, the guy’s not a sharer, is he?”

Steve stood by Natasha and crossed his arms as he watched Tony dazzle the crowd with more drivel about tech and numbers. Natasha pretended to watch but flicked her eyes over to Steve. She had to admit, he cleaned up nice. His blonde hair was neatly combed back and he was dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo. 

“Think someone should remind Tony this is a charity benefit?” Steve asked. “And therefore, not everything is about him?”

“Sure,” Natasha said. “And then we can explain calculus to a fifth-grader.”

Steve chuckled, a pleasantly deep sound in his throat.

“He’s the only one of his us having any fun,” Natasha continued. “Well, except you at least.” She paused for a second before that feeling curled in her stomach again. “I saw those two girls talking to you.”

“Nancy and Barbara?” Steve said. “Oh yeah, they’re super nice. Nancy’s dad is one of Stark’s investors and Barbara is a sorority friend of hers.” Steve pulled at his sleeves. “They kept asking me about my new suit and where I bought it. They must be fashionistas or something because they kept touching my blazer. Tony got me this for tonight, so I told them I had no idea who the designer was.”

Oh, sweetheart, Natasha thought.

“Did they ask anything else from you?” she asked. “Like for your phone number?”

Steve gave Natasha a funny look.

“Why would they need my number?” he asked. He chuckled. “I mean, I’m not sure what a sorority house would want from me.”

Natasha stared at Steve for a full minute. Steve Rogers was never the…brightest member of the team. Maybe he was always like this, maybe it was that experiment back in the forties that took a few of his brain cells. Regardless, Natasha looked at that man in his puppy-dog blue eyes and was suddenly hit with the urge to kiss him.

“Nat?” he said. “You okay?”

Natasha realized she was staring and shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said. “Champagne.”

“I can take the glass for you,” Steve said. “I don’t like drinking much. Makes me feel dizzy.”

Natasha let Steve take the tall glass from her hand and take it to the refreshments table. The server took the glasses from him. Thor saw Steve’s untouched glass, plucked it from the server’s glass, and slammed the whole thing back.

Natasha watched Steve the whole time. Her face was hot and her lips still buzzed since that image of kissing him crossed her mind. Her eyes lingered on him as he stood with his back to her. Those broad shoulders fitted under the black coat, those muscle round under the sleeves, those pants fitting very well over his nicely shaped ass.

She always knew that Steve Rogers was attractive. Anyone with a working vision could see that. The man was a blonde, All-American Ken doll with the strength of a G.I. Joe. He was all sparkling white smiles and kind blue eyes and sweet as apple pie. To someone used to being cold and hardened like Natasha, he was like a warm sunbeam on a winter day.

And she felt hot just looking at him.

Steve returned to Natasha and as soon as he was standing close to her Natasha’s lips began to buzz again. She kept staring at his mouth while Steve, oblivious, kept talking.

“That poor waitress,” Steve said. “Thor is giving her hell over there. I guess that don’t have champagne in Asgard.” He chuckled. “Maybe he’s trying to see how much he can take until the bell drops.”

The bell drop. Natasha had completely forgotten about that. When the clock struck midnight, couples all over the world would be locking lips to welcome in the new year. The image in her head did nothing.

“Alright, everyone!” Tony called. “One minute until midnight, get your glasses ready!”

Everyone in the room moved to the wall with a giant gold clock on the wall. Even Thor paused his chugging to follow everyone. Bruce, Clint, and even Nick all joined the crowd for the New Year's countdown.

Steve took Natasha's arm and urged her towards the clock.

“C’mon, Nat!” he said. “Midnight time.”

Natasha followed Steve and the two of them stood at the back of the crowd. The bronze hands of the clock ticked towards midnight. The servers popped more bottles of champagne the the room filled with foamy fizz.

Ten seconds. The crowd began to count.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Natasha flicked her eyes over to Steve. His smile was beaming and he chanted with the rest of the crowd.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Her face flushed red and she bit down on her lips. She couldn’t. They were teammates. This could fuck up their friendship. This could be a point of no return.

“Four! Three! Two!”

But it was her only chance, and she was so done resiting.

“ONE!”

A burst of sound filled the world. The crowd cheered, more bottles popped, fireworks illuminated the sky outside the windows. And Natasha took Steve’s face in her hand and pulled his mouth to hers.

Steve made a startled, muffled sound as Natasha suddenly pressed her lips to his. His heart ricochet in his ribcage. Natasha’s mouth still tasted like champagne, cold and sparkling like a mouthful of stars. His eyes fluttered shut and he sunk into the kiss.

Time seemed to melt away into golden candle wax. The cheers, the fireworks, the popping bottle, and the sizzling champagne pour turned to a distant buzz. When their lips came apart, Steven and Natasha stared at each other. Steve was hot in the face and breathless. Natasha felt electric and her heart raced in her chest.

“Nat…” Steve said. “I…”

Natasha couldn’t stand it anymore. Fuck it.

She grabbed Steve by his tie and dragged him away from the crowd of attendees. There was a door in the far corner that led to a staff closet. Natasha pulled Steve inside and shut the door before anyone could see them.

“Natasha,” Steve said. “What’re you—”

Natasha shut him up by pressing her lips to his again. Steve immediately melted into her touch and let her push him up against the opposite wall. Her leg slipped through the slit in her dress and pinned between his legs on the door. Some valve had opened inside her and now every intimate thought Natasha ever had about Steve came out through her hands and mouth. Her hands groped him all over, tracing his muscular body under the fabric of his suit.

Natasha kissed Steve from his mouth down his jaw and along his muscular neck. Steve tipped his head back and released a shuddered sigh.

“Fuck…” he sighed. “Nat, please…”

His voice sent a hot flash through Natasha and the blood in her body surged. While she planted pink lipstick stains on his neck and face, she pulled his tie from his neck and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Nat…” Steve breathed. “What if they hear us?”

Natasha pressed a hand to Steve’s mouth. She leaned close to him and whispered between the spaces between her fingers.

“Then we better keep quiet,” she said.

Steve looked at her with those big blue eyes and didn’t resist as she moved her hand from his mouth to his head, grabbing a handful of that golden hair. Steve winced in pain as Natasha pulled him backward with her. She moved her back against the closet door, thumping against the wood in a way that no doubt anyone on the other side could hear.

Maybe Natasha didn’t want to stay quiet.

Maybe she wanted to hear everyone in Stark Tower fuck their precious captain’s skull in.

“On your knees,” Natasha said, her voice a breathless wisp.

Steve, ever the obedient soldier, dropped down to the floor. Natasha lifted the black velvet of her skirt and bunched it at her waist, while Steve pulled her underwear down her long, muscular legs. He let out a luscious sigh.

“God…” he said, drooling at the sight of her naked pussy. “You’re so incredible…”

Natasha threaded her fingers through Steve’s hair, tightening her grip.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. She moved his face between her thighs. “Show me.”

Steve kissed up Natasha’s inner thigh, making her shiver and her hair stand on end. Natasha moaned and tipped her head back against the door. Her eyes fluttered shut as Steve slipped his tongue between her folds.

“Fuck…” Natasha sighed. She gripped both hands in Steve’s hair. “Right there, baby…just like that…”

Steve smoothed his hands up her legs to grip the side of her thighs. She tasted divine, hot, and dripping wet down his throat. Steve had imagined Natasha fucking him so many times he lost count, but he never thought it would actually happen. They were teammates. There was too much at stake. But at that moment all he wanted to do was lick every drop of her.

Natasha jerked her hips and pulled Steve’s head harder against her. Her thighs spread to make room for his head and she moaned as he swirled his tongue right over her clit. She wasn’t sure how experienced Steve was, but his tongue was long and velvety and knew right where to taste her.

Steve grunted deep his his throat. He gripped his white-knuckled hands against her thighs as she fucked his face. He didn’t want anyone to hear them, to catch them, but the sound of Natasha’s pleasurable moans was music to his ears.

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice pitched. Her nails dug into his head. “Fuck…”

She was getting close. Steve could feel it in the way her thighs tightened around his head, the desperate tone of her voice, the exquisite pain her hands nailed in his head. He growled and began eating her like a starving man. He licked and sucked and didn’t let a single drop of her go to waste. Natasha arched her back against the door and tipped her face up to the ceiling.

“Steve,” she moaned. “Fuck…right there…just like that…keep going…”

Natasha’s body was shiny with sweat, a bead of perspiration dripping down the front of her dress. She was hot and glowing and didn’t care if the party could hear them because all she could think of was cumming on Steve Rogers’s tongue.

When she came, it was like a glass bottle shattered against a wall. She bucked her hips into his mouth, fucking his wide mouth until every hot drop was trickling down Steve’s throat. Her breaths came out in heavy pants and Steve grunted and moaned into her pussy.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Natasha’s body simmered to a stop. She was sweaty and warm and she pressed against the door to stay standing. She dropped her head down to Steve, who was looking up at her with the big blue eyes and his lips dripping with her cum.

Steve spoke first.

“Did…” he said. “Did that feel good?”

Natasha’s heart swelled in her chest and wanted to push him against the wall again and smother him in kisses. Instead, she put a hand on his cheek. Steve nuzzled into her touch like a puppy.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re good at that, Rogers.”

A small smile bloomed on Steve’s face. Just then, someone knocked on the closet door and Natasha jumped at the sound.

“Steve? Nat?” Tony called from the other side of the door. “Everyone’s leaving. You two in there?”

Natasha and Steve looked at each other. Neither of them knew if they wanted the rest of the team to know about this, whatever this meant.

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “Steve’s feeling sick. Must have eaten something.”

“Yeah, I’m really sick,” Steve called.

Natasha gave him a look that said “Hush.”

“I’m helping him, don’t worry,” she said.

That must have satisfied Tony because his footsteps disappeared from the door. Natasha turned her gaze back down to Steve. He was still flustered and cum-wet, but her eyes focused on the bulge at the front of his pants. Outside the door, everyone was making their way towards the elevators to leave. Natasha didn’t have time to deal with Steve here.

So, she’d have to take him somewhere else.

“Meet me at the compound in an hour,” she said. “I’ll return the favor. Okay?”

Steve’s brain was soup. All he could do was look at Natasha in her beautiful face and say, “Yes, ma’am.”

Before Steve could ask any further questions, Natasha straightened her dress and hair, then disappeared out the closet door, leaving him alone with a humiliating boner and a face as red as apples.

~

Steve mets Natasha exactly where she told him. He arrived at the Avengers Compound an hour later. It was long past midnight but Steve was too restless to be tired. He’d been fighting the aching erection in his pants the whole ride over and the memory of Nastaha touching him did nothing to help.

Natasha was not the kind of woman to waste time. On the front door of the compound was a note written in Natasha’s scrawl: SECOND FLOOR. MASTER BEDROOM.

Steve made his way upstairs. When he reached the bedroom, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Natasha?” he said.

“It’s unlocked.”

Steve opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, only a single golden light from the lamp on the end table. But the light was just enough to catch the outline of Nastaha seated on the end of the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Her dress was gone, replaced with black lingerie complete with thigh-highs and garters.

Steve had often been called a “golden retriever” as a joke. But he was moments from collapsing to his hands and knees and barking like a dog.

Natasha's eyes assessed him up and down.

“I can’t fuck you with that suit on,” she said.

Steve composed himself long enough to respond.

“You did back at Stark Tower,” he said.

Natasha smirked and twirled her finger at him.

“Strip for me, soldier,” she said.

Steve’s face burned bright red and he wondered if Natasha could see his blush. He reached his hand up to his throat and slowly pulled his tie off. Then, he stripped his coat off his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt, letting everything fall to the carpet at his feet.

Natasha watched him as he undressed. Captain American, a pinnacle of strength and power, was completely at her mercy. The power sent a rush through her like she could start glowing in the dark. She licked and bit her bottom lip as Steve stepped out of his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and let his trousers fall to his ankles.

Steve stood before her in the dim, golden light, completely naked down to his boxers. He looked like a statue come to life, the kind of striking beauty that was almost hard to believe in a human. 

But Steve Rogers was very human. And therefore, he was entirely breakable.

Natasha rose from the bed and approached her. Steve stood still before her, watching her with an anticipating look in his eyes. He could practically feel her gaze on him, as physical as a wet tongue licking along his body.

Natasha placed her hands on Steve’s shoulders. She smoothed them up to his neck and then pulled him down into a kiss. Steve surrendered to her touch, moaning as she bit hard on his lip and caressed her hands along his body. His cock was aching in his boxers and he whimpered when Natasha brushed her hands against his boxers.

Steve froze as Natasha circled around him, trailing a hand along him, looking at him like she were a dealer appraising a work of art. She stood behind him and placed her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s this?” she whispered in his ear.

Steve gasped as Natasha's hand slithered down the front of his body and curled her fingers down his bulge. His body went stiff as a board and all of a sudden he couldn’t feel anything except Natasha’s hand on his bulge. She teased and played with his cock through the thin grey fabric on his boxers.

“I…urg…ahhh…” Steve couldn’t speak. Natasha pressed her body against his back and he thought he could cum from that alone.

“I did leave you hanging, didn’t I?” Natasha whispered, her sultry voice made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand. “I should fix it, shouldn’t I? After all…” 

She moved her hand down under the seam of his underwear and Steve whimpered when he felt her fingers wrap around his cock.

“…this is mine, isn’t it?” she whispered in his ear.

Steve gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s yours.”

“What are you willing to do to get it?”

Steve was trembling. He worried his legs would buckle and he would collapse to the floor in a puddle of cum.

“Anything,” he whimpered. “Please…Nat…I need it so bad…I need you so bad…”

His words were enticing. Natasha watched him whimper and tremble as she stroked him slowly, agonizingly slow. She had an idea of what to do with him. Something she wanted to do with him ever since the first time she ever watched him bend over to pick something up. The first time she got a look at that muscular back of his.

But first, she needed him needy and desperate. She began stroking him a little faster, and his whimpers turned to little cries. Without an audience behind a door, Steve’s inhibitions melted away.

“You’ll let me do anything to you?” she said, so softly in his ear. “Anything to get you off?”

“Yes,” Steve moaned. “Yes, anything you want.”

“Would you let me ride you on this bed?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let me handcuff you to a chair and suck you off?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let me just stroke you here and make you lick the mess off the floor?”

“Yes.”

Steve’s hips were twitching into her hand. Any second now, he was going to cum between her fingers. Natasha decided to go for the kill.

“Would you let me fuck you from behind?” she asked.

Steve paused before answering. Either because he wasn’t sure or because he was too close to an orgasm to muster any words.

“Will you?” Natasha asked again, colder this time. She pulled her hand out from Steve’s boxers and he whimpered in agony. 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you can do whatever you want to me, use me, make your plaything, I don’t care just please Natasha….”

Steve was hard to the point of pain. The poor man was even tearing up a little. It was time to put him out of his misery. She brought her lips right to his ear.

“Then bend over for me,” she whispered.

She pressed a hand between Steve’s shoulder blade and bent him over the edge of the bed. Steve’s face hit the mattress and he moaned as Natasha smacked him on the ass.

“Lay still,” she said. 

Natasha sauntered to the end table. She brought the supplies with her just in case. Inside the drawer, she pulled out a black leather harness with silver buckles and a thick blue dildo attached. 

Steve turned his head in the bed to face Natasha. He watched her step into the harness and adjust the girthy cock at her crotch.

“Do you know what this is?” Natasha asked.

Steve stared at it for a moment and then shook his head.

“This goes inside you from behind,” Natasha explained, running a fingernail down her considerable length. “I’ll lube it up so it can slide in easily.”

“Does it hurt?”

Natasha shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Not if you use it right. The lube will help. Besides, you’ve endured worse.”

To Natasha’s surprise, Steve seemed disappointed. She snickered and walked closer to the bed. She grabbed his chin and made him look up at her.

“Or I can fuck you so hard that you squeal like a pig,” she said.

Steve looked at her with those shimmery blue eyes and nodded. With that affirmation, Natasha grabbed the bottle of lube and began lathering the dildo. Steve watched, drooling at the corner of his mouth while Natasha’s fingers slicked the cock wet.

Natasha walked behind Steve and grabbed the hem of the boxers. She dropped the whole thing to his ankles and then pumped some lube onto her hands. She ran her non-sticky hand down Steve’s back.

“Spread your legs,” she said. “Relax for him.”

Steve did as she said. He spread his legs apart, perking his rear up. Natasha slid a moist finger inside and Steve shuddered.

“Does that hurt?” Natasha asked.

It did, a little. But Steve loved it and he didn’t want Natasha to stop. He never thought pain could feel so good when it came from the right person.

“No,” he said. “Keep going.”

Natasha nodded and slid a second finger inside. She used her free hand to stroke Steve’s back.

“Open up for me, baby,” she said. “I can’t get it in if you don’t open up.”

Steve pressed his red face into the mattress. Once Natasha got him nice and open, she readied her shiny cock at his hole.

“Hold still for me,” she said. She pressed a hand down on his lower back. Her voice softened. “Trust me, Steve. This’ll feel good.”

With that, Natasha shoved herself inside Steve and immediately began swerving her hips. Steve let out a croak of pain and melted onto the bed.

“Nat…” he whimpered. “…fuck…”

The mattress springs sang beneath them as Natasha fucked him into the mattress. Natasha watched Steve whimper and writhe, his muscular back twisting and contorting, pushing his rear harder onto her cock.

“That’s it, Rogers,” Natasha purred. She smoothed her hand up his back before grabbing his hair. “Take all of it for me.”

Steve arched his back and moaned. Natasha started viciously pounding into his ass, thrusting her hips until Steve started crying out. His head filled with exquisite pain as he pulled him back by his hair.

“Natasha please,” he blubbered.

“Shut it,” Natasha hissed. She clasped a hand on his mouth and ducked him harder. “You don’t talk until I make you cum first.”

Steve whimpered against her hand. His tortured cock was burning red and he could feel Natasha fucking an orgasm into him.

“Look at you,” Natasha purred in his ear. “The sluttiest soldier in the U.S. army.”

Those words pushed him over the edge. Steve cried out and Natasha shushed him by shoving his face into the duvet. She fucked him harder and harder, Steve’s hips humping into the bed, until with a cry he finally spilled onto the mattress.

“Fuck...fuck…fuck..” Steve panted.

Natasha slowly pulled her cock out. She looked down at Steve as she stepped out of the harness. The poor boy was sweaty and trembling like a puppy. She traced her fingertips down his back.

“You okay, Steve?” she asked. All her sadistic bravado faded away and her voice cooed over him.

Steve rolled onto his back, grimacing leaving a sticky mess on the mattress when he came. He looked at Natasha, the way the light haloed her red hair, her eyes that made him feel so open and naked. He gently took Natasha by the wrist and pulled her down on top of him. She yelped, then giggled as she nuzzled into his neck.

“That was…” Steve struggled for words. “That was...

He couldn’t articulate how he felt. He felt like a different man. He felt like he wanted to bend over and let Natasha destroy him again and again. But he was too spent to say, so he held Natasha close and covered her in kisses.

Natasha grinned and held Steve’s face in her hands.

“You should probably clean the sheets,” she said. “Someone might come in tomorrow and see your mess.”

Steve smiled and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[a-very-tired-jew]

One of the communities I'm in has a Discord server. These are people I see multiple times a year at events, many of whom I've known for a decade or more, and it's actually so large that I haven't met everyone as more people join each year. However, there are those of us who are regulars in the server itself and we're quite familiar with one another.

We have a domestic and international politics channel. We have several Israeli Jews and Diaspora Jews in the server. We also have several ardent antisemites anti-Zionists as well.

I've noticed a trend that when something is posted in the international channel that is anti-Hamas and/or doesn't paint Israel in a bad light it has no reactions whatsoever. None of what is posted is as critical of the various organizations relating to the war, the double standards of the international community, and all the other stuff we talk about here on jumblr. But the Jews in the server, including myself, have this unspoken agreement that we're just not going to react or expand upon anything.

Why? If something gets posted that is distinctly anti-Israel and/or rife with antisemitism it will have the same 6-8 people reacting to it. These same persons routinely respond with the standard claims of genocide, deny indigeneity, and so on. All the same canards and tropes we've heard since October. Myself and others in the server have tried to address it, but to no avail. Rather than burning everything down we just let them dig their own graves repeatedly.

I imagine it'll come to a head at our next in person gathering in a few weeks and they'll either get kicked and/or offer fake apologies to stay. The likelihood that they say some outright antisemitic drivel while drunk is very high. Most of us have started putting them at arms length more and more because it's clear that they're getting their information from pro-terrorist propaganda sources and that they believe in antisemitic conspiracies.

The silver lining is that I know I likely won't interact with them at an upcoming event where we all gather as they're not part of my circle even within our community.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb:

Two rival writers. One prestigious publishing contract. A bargain of hearts and seduction.

They say never bargain with the fae. They also say don’t get drunk on fae wine. Yet romance author Edwina Danforth has managed a blunder with both on her first visit to the infamous faelands. Now she’s trapped in a magic-fueled bet she barely remembers with a man she’d be happier to forget. The terms? Whoever can bed the most lovers during their month-long dueling book tour wins a coveted publishing contract.

The win should be easy for Edwina. She’s known for penning scintillating tales of whirlwind romance. There’s just one problem: her imagination vastly exceeds her bedroom experience. But when failure means plummeting her career back into obscurity, losing isn’t an option.

Her handsome fae rival, William Haywood, poses an even greater challenge. Not only are his looks as aggravatingly perfect as his track record behind closed doors, but he has his own reasons for playing to win, and he won’t go down without a fight. Unless, of course, it’s a different kind of going down. In that case, he’s fair game.

Edwina and William clash in a rivalry of romance. But what happens when their objects of desire…turn out to be each other?

A Rivalry of Hearts is a spicy standalone adult fantasy romcom in the Fae Flings and Corset Strings series. Every book in the series can be read on its own in any order and ends with a HEA. If you like academic rivals, enemies to lovers, and quirky heroines, then you’ll love this sizzling tale.

The Fae Flings and Corset Strings series is set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy and Entangled with Fae. Journey back to this beloved fae world or fall in love for the first time.

Review:

Two rival authors, one prestigious publishing contract, and a bet to see who can seduce more people... yet the only ones being seduced are each other. Edwina Danforth is a romance author, she loves writing smutty romance novels and finds joy in them but she has yet to actually make a penny despite writing over 17 books. When she is late for her latest tour stop she arrives only to discover that they've also brought in another author... who is now also going on tour with her, the handsome William Haywood. The moment Will and Edwina meet is not great to say the least, with him calling her work "romantic drivel." Will and Edwina do not get along, and when they both find out that the person who sells the most books on the tour will be offered the new publishing contract, tensions only rise. One night out at the bar they come up with a bet: whoever can seduce the most people wins... and a deal with the fae is binding. Edwina, despite writing smut and romance, has actually had very little experience but her pride won't let her stop the agreement. Meanwhile, Will's attempt to tease and actually flirt with Edwina ends up with her misunderstanding and proposing the bet... and now they both are competing...yet the only people they seem to be seducing and wanting to go to bed with is each other. But if they admit to their feelings so much is at stake and their game could end up with one of them losing everything, with both of them having their own desperate reasons for winning and dealing with the feelings they are both trying to fight, can this book tour be a success and can they actually make a romance happen or was it doomed from the start? This was a really fun read and I liked the competitive game between the two. The rivalry was cute and honestly, Will was such a sweetheart. He was constantly looking after Edwina and trying to show her how much he adores her, Edwina was so stubbornly prideful and set in her judgements it made me want to shake her at times. It's a really fun read and I had a blast reading it and can't wait to see where the second book with the second couple goes!!! If you like fae realms, romance, and fun characters I would absolutely recommend this!

Release Date: June 12, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and ARC provided by Victory Editing NetGalley Co-op for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[iamapoopmuffin]

Reflection

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Characters: Astarion, Tav/OC Relationships: Astarion/Tav

Astarion has long since forgotten what, exactly, he looks like. His boyfriend wishes he had a way to share exactly how he looks to him, and one night thinks he may have figured out just how to do it.

[Using my player character for BG3, Jacquimo, a half-orc bard uneducated street urchin disaster bisexual aligned chaotic neutral-chaotic good.]

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54702118

As much as Jacquimo would have liked to have said it was a quiet, peaceful evening, the fact was their bed and board above the Elfsong Tavern was typically anything but. Between the lingering vampire spawn blood housekeeping hadn't been able to get out of the furnishings (for which he claimed to be very sorry) leaving a bit of a smell in the air and a stickiness on the floor that he would rather not think about, and the sounds of the raucous drunks below either enjoying themselves or drowning their sorrows, it made for...quite the atmosphere, to put it lightly. Still, compared to what the half-orc was used to, this was heaven. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like to sleep in a proper bed, and the streets had always been plenty noisy as well.

Sat on his bed, scribbling away in an old notebook, everything else faded out to a strange ambience. This had always been Jacquimo's element. As a bard, he excelled in spinning stories and conveying tales through word, song and poem. Over his years, he'd written and performed many a yarn, ode or sonnet, and some of them were even halfway decent pieces. He'd never had such inspiration like that gifted to him by his most recent journey though. This past week alone he had written so much, the stories and legacies of his new friends, songs on hardship and survival, music he could hear the notes of carried on the wind. One particular piece had been a problem for him, however.

It was a simple poem, words spun like silk to form a painting in your head. An Ode To A Star, he called it, and he had been working on it ever since Astarion told him he could no longer remember his own face. Karlach had suggested someone draw his portrait, but Jacquimo had never been good at that. So he tried to write it. Descriptive art to show his favourite person, the love of his life, exactly how he looked to him.

Let me be your mirror

Let me show you through my eyes

The most beautiful a being

The gods ever did devise

Let me show you every detail

Every wrinkle, every scar

Utter drivel, all of it. Resisting the urge to rip the page out, crumple the paper and throw it aside, Jacquimo cast his gaze to the window, thinking. What could he possibly say to truly convey what he needed to? Words would never be a true substitute for actually being able to see himself. And the wrong words would just cause upset. Mentions of wrinkles, for one, even if they were something Jacquimo liked about his lover. Character. Experience. All part of one damned gorgeous man.

Eyes flitting between the words on the page and the dark night outside, he paused when he caught sight of his own reflection in the glass.

Let me be your mirror.

If only it was that simple. If only he could truly show Astarion exactly what he saw when he looked at him. It wasn't like he could be like the glass in that window. It wasn't like Astarion could really see through his eyes.

Wait.

Except he could, couldn't he?

Jacquimo snapped the notebook shut and looked across the room, at each of his companions. Those who shared the tadpole infection were able to connect their minds together, weren't they? He remembered seeing himself through Lae'zel's eyes on the Nautiloid. Seeing Astarion's memory of watching him walk through the confines of the pod. Giving him his memories of breaking free of his own pod in response. Seeing paths carved through the hells through the eyes of Wyll and Karlach. The tadpole connection allowed them to see through each other's eyes, see thoughts and memories, feel what each other felt.

An idea in his head, the bard placed his notebook back in his pack and got to his feet, making his way over to where Astarion had set up. He clearly heard his lover's approach, as he closed the book he was reading, looking up to meet his eyes. "Always a pleasure to see you sauntering over. Did you need something, my dear?"

"I had a thought. Or an epiphany."

There was a subtle twitch up of the vampire's lips. "Using that brain of yours, are we?"

"I know, I know, a rare novelty. Really, though, I think I might have figured something out. How I can show you your face again."

A nearly imperceptible shift in his eyes. Interest. Curiosity. Hope? "Really now? Well, I have to say, you know how to pique my interest, darling." His voice held no sarcasm, the thought of seeing his face once more undeniably enticing.

"It's rather obvious in hindsight." Jacquimo mused, more to himself, before addressing the elf properly. "I can't promise you'll like it, but it's an option if you want to use it. The tadpoles. They give us that connection, allow us to see each other's memories. You could look into my memories, or perhaps even see through my eyes now. See yourself."

He froze, processing the words. It seemed almost ludicrous, but he was right, everything he said was right. "You would let me into your head, just to see my face? You'd let me just...poke around inside your mind like that? I could find anything in there."

"I would." He didn't even hesitate. "I trust you. I would trust you with my mind any time. And I want to do something for you."

Astarion reached up, ghosting his fingers across the bard's cheek, his voice coming out soft and vulnerable. "You have already done many things for me, you know."

"Then what's one more thing?"

"And you trust me far more than you should. It isn't wise, darling."

"Who ever said I was wise?"

Astarion retracted his hand, glancing around to ensure none of the others were eavesdropping. When he spoke, it was quiet, and completely serious. No teasing, no lighthearted foppery, no sarcasm. "And you're sure about this? About letting me into your head? I...I don't want you feeling you have to do this. You are far too self sacrificing, do far too much for others, I don't want to do this unless you're entirely comfortable with this. This is your mind we're talking about, every inner personal part of you. Just...please tell me you're sure about this."

Jacquimo nodded, confident. "I'm sure. You're only looking at my memories of your face, that's all I'm showing you. I trust you not to go anywhere I don't want you going, and I think I know how to keep people out of things when I need to - I was able to block Z'rell, Minthara and even the Emperor out of certain thoughts, and they were trying to dig into things I didn't want them seeing. I think even with the connection active we can respect each other's privacy just fine, I don't think either of us have been ones to pry. I wouldn't offer this if I wasn't sure. As much as I joke that I am an idiot, I do think things through, you know. For the most part, anyway."

A smile graced those beautiful features. He so wanted to see his face again, to remember that part of himself long forgotten, and it seemed this reward was worth the risk. Jacquimo had a way with words, of making him feel like it would be okay if only he put his faith in him, and it seemed it was time to put his faith in him again. "Then yes, darling. I would like to try it. It's about time I saw how beautiful I really am, after all."

The decision made, the bard gently reached out and took the rogue's hands, eyes meeting and holding each other's gaze as they opened that connection, reaching out with the squirming, wriggling tadpoles within, a power none too pleasant, but this time for a worthwhile cause.

And then there he was, right where he could see himself.

Astarion turned his head this way and that, taking in every inch of his own face as seen through his lover's eyes. Jacquimo let him in, focusing on memories, on that face. On the line of his jaw, the bow of his lips, the curve of his brow. On delicate lashes framing piercing red eyes that could grow so round, almost doe-like under the right circumstances. The laugh lines that made themselves known during moments of joy, the way the edges of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Soft curls framing pointed ears, almost shining when the light hits them just right. And not just the way he looked when happy, but sad as well. When he cried, or knew he'd gone too far, when fear and anxiety took hold. The way anger could peel his lips back in a snarl. Baring fangs in threat. That first meeting, that look of suspicion. Plotting looks, teasing glances, moments of internal conflict. Everything. Every part of him, of who he is, of who he was. Every fine detail. Everything he'd lost and forgotten in all those years of torment. Bringing a hazy, indistinct image into focus, making it clear once more.

Letting himself be the mirror Astarion wanted, needed, for as long as he wanted or needed.

[fuckmeyer]

If you’re still doing the BTS asks, I’d love to hear more about this:

“I walked,” he said.

“What?”

The patter of heavy rain became a light pittering drizzle.

“After making the worst mistake of my entire existence,” he said quietly, “I walked. From Washington to New York.”

"Walked? As in… walked ? Like a human?"

"I was in no state to face my family. Anyone, really. I didn’t dare go back to Forks for my car; I knew I’d go right back and beg you to forget whatever idiotic drivel had come out of my mouth. I couldn’t very well take a bus or a plane or a train—”

“Or run?”

“I was extremely disoriented,” he said. “Dizzy. It was as though I had…what is the human condition when the world seems to spin as though you’re drunk?”

“Vertigo?”

“Ah. Vertigo. Yes. So, I thought I might take some time to...collect myself.”

My questioning side eye gave him a chuckle. The silent response seemed loud enough.

“Pride,” he answered with a small smile. “Ego. My family believed I was making a terrible mistake leaving you behind. I didn't want them to think they were right.

“Of course, 800 hours later, nothing had changed. I could have killed eight minutes for all the good it did me. The second I walked through the door everyone knew I was…unwell.” Edward shrugged. He said no more.

"How unwell is 'unwell'?"

“Unwell, as in, had my family not regularly intervened, I would have lain on the same couch staring out the same window until it rotted away underneath me. It was the best shot I had at making it to the heat death of the universe.”

I knew he meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t bear to look at his weak smile.

“I was desperate to be unobtrusive. Silent. Nonexistent. I didn’t want to hang like a dark, poisonous cloud over everyone. But I did. It wasn’t long before Jasper had to leave, so paralyzed in the face of my overwhelming pain that he could barely function himself. Alice obviously left with him. Emmett and Rosalie followed suit after she and Carlisle got into a row over me. Even he and Esme began fighting over how to…handle me.” Bitter disgust permeated the air. “That was what hurt the most. Carlisle never gave up on me. He has remained faithful in my worst hours, always, and I…within months, had ruined everything he had spent decades building.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I said quietly.

“I know this man as well as— arguably better than— Esme. Carlisle is a wonderful leader, make no mistake. But he would have let it all burn. For nothing. I cannot even say he was doing it for me because it wasn’t me. He was giving up everything for a husk. No matter how sick I was, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Carlisle after everything.

COME NIGHTFALL EPILOGUE: PRELUDE - DVD COMMENTARY

“I walked,” he said.

“What?”

The patter of heavy rain became a light pittering drizzle.

“After making the worst mistake of my entire existence,” he said quietly, “I walked. From Washington to New York.”

"Walked? As in… walked? Like a human?" [no, walked like a penguin]

"I was in no state to face my family. Anyone, really. I didn’t dare go back to Forks for my car; I knew I’d go right back and beg you to forget whatever idiotic drivel had come out of my mouth. [New Moon AU where Edward comes back within an hour of breaking up, like, "ok that was a mistake"] I couldn’t very well take a bus or a plane or a train—”

“Or run?”

“I was extremely disoriented,” he said. “Dizzy. It was as though I had…what is the human condition when the world seems to spin as though you’re drunk?” [i go back and forth on whether i like this version of Edward who has no medical background. i edited his backstory in part to close one of Twilight's plot holes. (why does Edward suck out the venom if he also has medical training? why can't Carlisle clean her blood while Edward sets her bones? honestly, i find it rather cruel that canon Carlisle would convince Edward to drink his dying singer's blood.)

ultimately, it's an interesting character choice. Edward, a giant know-it-all who spent the last century acquiring all sorts of knowledge, suddenly finds himself dating a girl whose species he's learned little about. she confounds him in more ways than one. a concept!]

“Vertigo?”

“Ah. Vertigo. Yes. So, I thought I might take some time to...collect myself.”

My questioning side eye gave him a chuckle. The silent response seemed loud enough.

“Pride,” he answered with a small smile. “Ego. My family believed I was making a terrible mistake leaving you behind. I didn't want them to think they were right. [it felt like the only way to make the family less culpable in abandoning Bella was to have them vehemently disagree with Edward's choice. yes, they could have said "fuck it" & stayed for Bella's sake. but i think, as much as they disagreed with Edward, they wanted to support him as he has supported them through the years. i think they were afraid that sticking around for a human girl they barely knew would drive a wedge in the coven. little did they know it was unavoidable.]

“Of course, 800 hours later, nothing had changed. I could have killed eight minutes for all the good it did me. The second I walked through the door everyone knew I was…unwell.” Edward shrugged. He said no more.

"How unwell is 'unwell'?" [hoo boy]

“Unwell, as in, had my family not regularly intervened, I would have lain on the same couch staring out the same window until it rotted away underneath me [oh no, ambiguous pronoun :( i'll edit this]. It was the best shot I had at making it to the heat death of the universe.”

[this is inspired by /@gisellelx's Ithaca is Gorges (notably, Chapter 3: Paternity), as well as P.A. Lassiter's New Moon (Chapter 9: There). think: sad sack on the couch, spending hours & hours counting leaves & being held by his creator who hadn't fully realized (until it was too late) the kind of heart-ripping pain Edward would be in after leaving Bella. see also: a botched vivisection, animalistic catatonia, Alfred Schnittke's "Piano Quintet: IV. Lento"]

I knew he meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t bear to look at his weak smile.

“I was desperate to be unobtrusive. Silent. Nonexistent. I didn’t want to hang like a dark, poisonous cloud over everyone. [literally. i pictured his "bedroom" in the attic.] But I did. It wasn’t long before Jasper had to leave, so paralyzed in the face of my overwhelming pain that he could barely function himself. [idk if i've ever said this in the ITA series, but i've always seen Jasper as a synesthete. he tastes the emotions he feels, or certain emotions are associated with colors, or sounds, etc. so not only would Jasper be feeling Edward's pain, but he might be tasting a constant bitter/sour taste, or hearing a constant, clashing discord.] Alice obviously left with him. Emmett and Rosalie followed suit after she and Carlisle got into a row over me. [tl;dr Rose thinks coddling Edward won't make him better. she hates that everyone's acting like he's dead. it's his own fault he ruined himself, & Carlisle is bringing the rest of the family down with his son.] Even he and Esme began fighting over how to…handle me.” Bitter disgust permeated the air. “That was what hurt the most. Carlisle never gave up on me. He has remained faithful in my worst hours, always, and I…within months, had ruined everything he had spent decades building.” [love this line. buddy, you also helped build everything he has today!]

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I said quietly. [WELL...]

“I know this man as well as— arguably better than [lol]— Esme [and yet...i can see it 😏]. Carlisle is a wonderful leader, make no mistake. But he would have let it all burn. For nothing. I cannot even say he was doing it for me because it wasn’t me. He was giving up everything for a husk. No matter how sick I was, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Carlisle after everything.

[ok, i LOVE the messy, complicated beauty of this Edward/Carlisle. i love that Carlisle would burn Volterra down for his son. i love that Edward would follow Carlisle off a cliff despite his doubts. yes, after 90 years together, they took each other for granted - Carlisle perhaps saw Edward as a permanent fixture, & Edward has admitted to not fully grasping the complexity of Carlisle's role as coven leader. but in the end, they would rather poison themselves & each other with love than be without each other. Neat & Cool]

send me 500 words of my fanfic & i will give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet

[atlasarcana]

echo bren, act 2 fic 1 snippet (since it's been a while!)

Sydenstar 3, 839 P.D.

He arrives in Ank’harel a few days prior to the ceremony, thinking himself a good student for taking the time to scout. He gets a towel and an empty glass in his hands as a reward.

Bartender work. Well — there’s nothing wrong with scouting in disguise, in fairness. And it is a quick way to learn the clientèle. To overhear conversation and catch words where they escape secrets. More than anything, to make notes.

He spends three days bored out of his mind wiping down the wet bar of a long and golden casino room. He takes orders, he compliments the early-arriving guests. Technically on duty as Volstrucker (though when the duty ever ends is beyond him), he marks easy targets for cornering and conversation. A noblewoman here and there touches his collar too closely, champagne too heavy on her breath, and he takes her to the back room to see the estate wines, of course, and peeks into her mind — only a gentle folding back of paper, not a terrible knife-intrusion — and pockets the rumors and the drivel for himself before spinning her back out to the main bar without a break in charisma.

Twice he escorts a drunk out of the bathrooms. Thrice he rips down Missing posters nailed up in search of some halfling boy.

They smoke a great deal here in Ank’harel. That was the one thing he wasn’t expecting. On a mandated smoke break — a perk he ought to campaign to Ikithon — he steps out onto the great big flat white patios overlooking the great big flat fucking lake of a pool in between the buildings on either side of the property, and gets struck with the thought of diving in from the third storey. Which would be silly, and maybe suicidal, and he does not trust himself to know the difference. The white sun is a ball of eternity in the radioactive blue sky, and every shadow it casts grows long and crisp against all the other pale clay surfaces in a way that reminds him distinctly of ink on parchment. Out here on this patio, a hundred feet from the ground with layers of sandstone between himself and anything that makes a sound, he suddenly feels suffocatingly alone. The property is smack in the center of the Sand-Herald district, which is where all the money and noise is, and yet the two palaces of the resort are such tall, bright, architectural knives that the thousands of civilians beneath him are more like ants than anything. He could shut his eyes and only hear the birds and the breathing swell of the city. The slow, industrial chugging. A far-off clang. A distant splash as someone falls unceremoniously from the diving board.

Days like this made the rest tolerable. But days like this would end. And he would wake up somewhere new again, with another sin tallied under his name somewhere by an accountant in the Nine Hells.

He’s lost in thought for a while until a seagull lands by his feet. Quite a bit out from any ocean here, friend. Though, upon closer inspection, it isn’t a seagull — it’s just a white desert pigeon. Pretty little thing. And clearly, Nicodranas is still in his head if he first went to seagulls. He doesn’t fault himself for it; he doesn’t remember the last time he had so much vacation sex. Or a vacation at all.

Bren stares at the pigeon. He inches closer. He stoops.

On a whim, he uses the hand that isn’t holding a cigarillo to swish Sending into the air.

“Beloved,” he says, staring straight at the bird. “My goodest and greatest and sweetest friend.” He pauses. “Food. Ank’harel. Recommendations?”

He knows what he gives with this information. It is possibly the most treasonous thing he has done in years, and in as little as a word. But he cannot find himself to care.

The bird cocks his head at him. For a long moment, the spell doesn’t seem to take.

Then, the receiver picks up the line: Essek’s voice spins in his head.

Ank’harel… says the Shadowhand, very slowly and direly, as though still digesting his morning evil on the other side of the world.

The bird twitches its head this way and that. Essek’s voice could be speaking through it if Bren tried to overlap them in his mind. He experiments with the idea, squinting.

Well. Anything but a kurrak fruit, says Essek.

Essek-Birdy moves its head in a way that could look offended, and, oh, yes. It is quite funny.

They say it tastes like mango.

Liars. Curs. More like rotten eggs.

Avoid. At all costs.

Essek-Birdy pap-paps its feet on the ground. Pecks at Bren’s boot, thinking it a big brown worm. At the illusory-to-physical difference between a bartender’s boot and a Volstrucker’s boot, the bird spasms with perplexity. Then it flies away.

No kurrak fruits. Well, alright. At least that was one insider fact he hadn’t wormed out by sleeping with the Essek of another timeline. Bren puffs his cigarillo and throws it into the midden by the door.

He’d normally throw it over the side of the building, but he fears the bird picking at it later. He goes inside.

[okdeannawrites]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you to @violetfairydust for the tag!

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Like a few others, I am only going to post a few WIPs because I have way too many to actually go through.

Lingerie Fic

Hockey Fic

Baseball Fic 2

Coming Undone

Foolish Derek

Jealous Stiles

Mexico Fluff

Drunk Stiles Fic (recently posted a snippet of this one)

I also have The Afterburn and When You're Not Around I'm actively posting. The rest of my WIPs are older and may never see the light of day.

Low pressure tags: @wolfspurr @lalaithquetzallicaresi @whimsicalmeerkat @thotpuppy @dear-massacre @definitively-different-drivel