#i can't resist a good dissection

[jq37]

I'm really glad you've seen Starstruck, because it means you have the context for this. Every disastrous decision made this episode, were THOSE the stupidest things these people have ever done? I thought 'my farts smell awesome' was the lowest they could go, but look at that, they collectively found another layer beneath that. This has to be the biggest L the Intrepid Heroes ever took. Outside of a TPK, losing a Mcguffin is as rough as it gets. The RNG giveth and the RNG taketh away.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OK, now that I have that out of the way, holy hell that last episode took a full year off my lifespan I think. Murph saying that it was like Fabian's Bad Day on a loop was right. I've never watched an episode of a ttrpg and thought, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" so consistently. Even after watching the Adventuring Party I'm not 100% confident I understand what some of those moves were about. I am going to try and break down by thoughts on each interaction, roughly in order from least to most baffling to me.

*Red and the Beast*

If this was as crazy as things went, it would have been a pretty normal episode. I fully understand why Ylfa would want to talk to the Beast being a monstruous princess and all. And Emily's side-motivation of wanting to maybe get some potions that would help them travel without freezing to death made sense as well. Sure it was a little awkward, but in the way that all pre-teens are sort of awkward around people who they think are cool. She didn't spill any serious beans or burn any serious bridges. This one gets a pass from me. 

*Ger and Elody*

It probably feels like I'm ranking this pretty low. And I am if we're talking in pure terms of cause and effect. Because loudly and weirdly spilling the beans the way that he did was a TERRIBLE move tactically and DEF alerted the princesses to their plan. BUT I wasn't CONFUSED about why it happened. Ger had a thing to do that made sense--find out if his wife was in on the erase everything plan and fill her in if not/try to convince her to switch sides if so. He had a reason to get frustrated and do something stupid. This was, in my eyes, a good plan that went poorly because of bad dice rolls and Murph's commitment to character. So while it was VERY unfortunate, I'm not actually confused about why the desperate frog man who is known for being awkward was weird and awkward to his wife in a dire situation so it didn't really frustrate me in the same way that some of the other scenes did. We also got one of one only pieces of new information in this episode--that it doesn't seem like Elody is in on the plan (though with his trash Insight rolls, who even knows). I wish he'd taken Roz with him to back up his story right away (and give him advantage of dice rolls). I also wish he'd brought Roz with him so she wasn't able to do her own solo mission. Speaking of...

*Roz and Snow*

This is not a conversation that needed to happen tactically. I was like, why is this going on? Just because everyone is having a little chat doesn't mean you have to have a little chat too. I will admit that by the time I got here, I was feeling so much second hand cringe that I missed a bit of the conversation. But I do know that Roz told Snow that she told the entire group about their chat and that they were fine with it. WHY TELL HER THAT??? The plan was clearly told to Roz with the understanding that it was for her ears only. Why immediately be like, "So I talked it over with the squad..." You're showing your hand! You're telling Snow you're not really aligned with the Daughter's of the Crown. If you were going to talk to Snow, why not try to figure out what the actual plans are wrt the erase the world endgame? They really don't know anything about the specifics of the plan. Just some nebulous talk about spilling ink. Why is no one asking questions about this? How are they supposed to stop a plan they don't understand?  Anyway, I think this conversation didn't need to happen and while it wasn't as disastrous in effect as Ger's convo, his had a good reason for happening while I don't think this one did which is why it frustrated me more. 

*Pinnochio and Cindy*

OK so this one frustrated me a TON because it had so much potential for getting information and moving the story forward but that's not what happened at all! As a sidenote, I was surprised but excited when they showed up at the castle and the Snow Queen fight was already over offscreen because I was like, "Man! We're going to get so much good information next episode!" Haha, nope! This conversation started off really strong with Pinnochio saying that they're kinda step-sibs which I thought was a great opener and something I hadn't really considered. I thought he was going to maybe bring up how the stepmother's goal seems to be fucking with stories (in a similar way to what they want) and seeing how she reacts. Or maybe following the thread about how she ALSO feels like she doesn't have agency in her story because she's a puppet of a narrative without even a name. And I don't want to assume but seems like Brennan was giving him the opening to go there like when Cindy was talking about "her own story" and Pinnochio was like, "She doesn't have one" Cindy seemed willing to talk down that thread but it was dropped really quickly. And this whole conversation had such a dissonant vibe where it was like Cindy was in Crown of Candy and Pinnochio was in Fantasy High or even Starstruck in terms of seriousness. Which, from a comedy standpoint, was extremely funny but from a narrative standpoint was like, Pinnochio...I'm begging you...please...ask her one direct question. Lou said he was playing up Pinnochio's childishness because he's a child in a weird situation which, sure I guess. But man. It was a very funny scene but not very narratively fulfilling.

*Pib and Cindy and a Window*

Pib readying the horses? The most competent move of the session! Pib unilaterally deciding to try to push her into her book? Why???? Like, OK. I wouldn't have told her about the book if I was Pinnochio--at least not without consulting the group. BUT once the proverbial cat was out of the book, why not let her have it? It might give her some perspective she doesn't already have and you might be able to sway her into being an ally. I feel like Cindy and Snow while true believers in the plan, aren't beyond reason. They don't strike me as gung ho about the entire situation. They give me the energy of people who are exhausted and on their last resort. I honestly feel like there is a world where this is all salvageable if they'd let her have her book without going full hostile. Maybe it's not the most LIKELY option. But I think there was a chance. But nope. Initiative. Even if they'd gotten her in, what's the next move? You're in a palace full of her allies and none of you have rolled more than a ten all session! Were you going to hold her hostage and run? Like, bruh. If they wanted to leave, they should have just left! Why did they make a whole production about it? I swear, they stayed in the castle the exact worse length of time. Not long enough to get any info, but too long to leave gracefully. Anyway, I thought this was a wild decision to just make. 

*Princess Interlude*

This isn't a part of the breakdown. This is just something I wanted to talk about. We really don't know how much the princesses know about The Situation and that's a big piece of the puzzle for us to know how BAD of a plan this is with the info they have. Because one of the few things we learned this episode is that Cinderella is surprised that the Stepmother doesn't have her own book. If they think that each person has their own book and they can write themselves out of existence without it affecting anyone else then this is actually a suicide pact and not a murder-suicide pact which still isn't GREAT but it's not WORLD ENDING which is decidedly less selfish. I still think it's an insane thing to try without having a full understanding of their world but if you're only playing with your OWN lives, then that's your right. 

And wrt to the PCs, since they were spilling the beans left and right, why not be like, cool. Ink spilling. Great plan. Now what about the Auroratory?  Because their stories don't just exist in ink. They're oral tradition, baby. I'm sorry you don't like your lives but ink spilling isn't going to solve everything. 

Finally, I need to go back to past episodes where the princesses are lamenting to be sure, but I'm honestly not 100% sure what it is they're so distressed about. There is an element of fighting for free will but I'm not sure what it is they think they don't have control over. Because surely if they had no free will, they wouldn't be able to fight their stories at all, right? And if it's just that they're stuck with all their memories from all their lives, Witches do that all the time, right? Can they just not handle the Everything, Everywhere, All At Once lifestyle because they're not inherently magical and they're cracking under the pressure? From what I remember from the previous episode, it sounded like Cindy and Snow were distressed over the *existence* of dark versions of their story which is why they wanted to destroy everything completely. But also, isn't darkness just a thing you have to accept if you're going to have free will? And also, I don't know that it makes sense to destroy the entire world just because there are timelines where bad things happen (especially when the worst things don't even happen to them). Who awakened these princesses in the first place? Based on the introductions, we're led to believe it's Cindy and Snow who were the first ones, but now that we've met Rapunzel, I have my doubts. And speaking of her, back to the list.

*Tim and Raps*

Tim what were you THINKING?????????

God, where to begin. Ally said they weren't sure if Raps was in on it or not two APs in a row which is baffling to me because I thought Brennan telegraphed it pretty hard that Raps was both very clever and very fake. We first hear about her trying to deceive the Baba Yaga (one of the SCARIEST NPCs who even DEATH doesn't fuck with) and getting away with her tongue intact. Then, on a really high insight check, the party learns nothing about her, except that she's so shiny you can't really read her. Suspicious as hell. THEN, we learn that she has hair that's everywhere that can potentially be used to spy on people. And when she describes murdering the Snow Queen, she says it in the most politician-y, obfuscate-y, side-stepping culpability way possible. YEAH. I THINK SHE'S IN ON IT. I am floored that it wasn't obvious that she was full team nuke everything. The twist to me would be if she was secretly GOOD. I was wondering if the was the actual mastermind, I didn't even realize we were discussing whether she was IN ON IT.

But like, OK. That aside. Whether you are going in thinking she's good and misled or fully in on it, THIS WAS AN INSANE WAY TO HANDLE IT.

DIRT IN THE SHORTBREAD???? TIM!!!!!!

If she's GOOD and just awkward from how she was socialized you're being weird and aggro to her. 

If she'd BAD and being manipulative you're being super clumsy and antagonizing her. 

AND THEN SHE STOLE THE BOOOK!!!!!!!

My heart SUNK when Brennan revealed that. Like, GOD I didn't think that could have gotten worse and then it did. 

And it's made worse because this is 100% a conversation that didn't need to happen. If I walked in and Raps was there, at most I would ask her about how her hair worked so we maybe knew for tactical reasons. That's not a crazy question to ask a person with magic hair that's everywhere so she wouldn't necessarily have a reason to be suspicious. And then guess what? I'm GONE. Just, based on second hand embarrassment and mechanical effect (LOSING THE BOOK), this is by far the worst conversation all episode and that's saying something.

(Also, RIP Mira who's going to wake up to a VERY different situation than when she went to sleep.)

The last thing I want to say about this episode is I kind wish that either Roz or Ger or both had died in their rescue plan. Not as a punishment mind you. While it was a tactically bad move, I think it's totally in character that Ger would have tried to go back for his wife and that one of his friends would have joined him. But we haven't had that many deaths this season and I feel like some more death exposition might give us more about what's going on. Because I feel like we only have a small piece of the puzzle, and there's not that many eps left to go. You know how in Stranger Things, the plot always ends up split between three groups and none of them actually know what's going on until they all communicate in the penultimate episode? That's how I feel right now except it's the PCs, The Princesses, The Faries, and the Librarians.

It's also potentially illuminating for Elody if the princesses are willing to kill Roz and Ger (I assume they'd bring back at least Roz). And if they were split up from the main party, that's an interesting place for them to be story-wise.  (Also, if they brought back Ger but were like Elody he's in the dungeon, don't talk to him he'll fill your head with lies. But she visits him anyway, just like when he was a frog at the pond...but I'm just writing mental fanfic now.) My point is there was potential there for us to get interesting info (and story beats) there which is why I was kind of rooting for it. This whole episode was a big bust with regard to moving towards any sort of goal and they really just made their situation severely worse to no real end. And now the princesses who want to end the world have the most powerful device in all of story. 

Yay. 

(Coda: Where is Scher with her "We're real enough" energy to talk the princesses out of their spiral? For the love of story, I am losing my mind here.)

[eatommo]

Kisses of Fire [j.m.]

Summary: You and Joel get caught up in a champagne-filled domestic dream, and your impulses are too strong to resist. Aka, you and Joel sing and dance in the kitchen until you can't deny your feelings any longer.

C.w: slight dub con because of alcohol consumption, mentions of parental loss, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected pinv, lots of praise, pet names, Joel is a sweet talker, fluffy dancing and cooking with Joel, size kink?, creampie, squirting, oral sex (f receive), mentions of oral sex (m receive), breeding kink if you squint, mutual pining?, idk I probably missed some let me know!

A/n: Hello! I am alive! I started a new job and it's been pretty crazy but I am pleased to bring you my first Joel Miller fic and my first contribution to the Dbf!joel subgenre that has been one my favorites lately. enjoy!

~3.5k

“Joel, the sauce is going to burn.” you stumble through a laugh, trying to focus the little clarity of your mind on the chicken browning in your ceramic pan. He had insisted on opening a glass of champagne to congratulate you on your new job. It was sweet and dry, exactly what you liked, and it went down easy.

You were sitting around the coffee table gushing and hardly letting the man get a word out, and then he asked if you were hungry, and well you hadn't yet eaten and with your stomach growling at his words, he was very insistent.

In truth, you'd always looked out for each other, you'd help pick up Sarah from school, on occasion try new recipes in his much larger kitchen, and in turn, he'd fix your sink leak, install a new shower head, or even build you a new coffee table.

Here standing in his kitchen you felt so comfortable, stirring the pasta with one hand and rummaging through his cabinets for oregano with the other. It could've been the alcohol or the decade-long crush on the older man that was driving you wild.

With a rush of melody, you realized where he disappeared as the fun rhythmic beat of Be My Baby echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Joel's words barely call above the song, “Oldies okay?”

You turn to answer him, only to catch him jamming out to the song behind you as he strides cool as a cucumber back into the kitchen. “More than okay.” You’re beaming, enjoying the music and the laid-back demeanor of his slight dance and groove.

You've cherished the few moments of joy since your father passed away a few years ago, singing with him and Sarah in the car, bullying Joel onto a rollercoaster, and summertime BBQs complete with movie marathons.

This felt different. Not only was Sarah noticeably absent, but there was an electric hum of something between you, it was almost palpable. Chalking it up to the alcohol, you settle back into your rhythm of taking care of the food in front of you with extra sway to your hips and occasionally singing into the wooden spoon like a microphone.

Joel returns to your side, stirring the thick sauce before grabbing a spoon from a drawer and tasting it. He moans around the cheap metal, throwing his head back in exaggerated ecstasy.

Hoping the heat from the stove disguises your blush, you carefully accept a spoonful he offers you after he cools with a few quick purses of his lips, humming in agreement.

“What did you say this recipe was called?” When he's been drinking, his Texan drawl lengthens, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, lord have mercy.

“Marry me chicken? It's said to get a man to marry you on its own…” you try and let your voice trail off as he grabs a colander and begins to strain the noodles for you, and before you can think you add, “I thought it would be good practice.”

You catch something in his face as he looks toward you, now mouthing the words to a song by Simon and Garfunkel, but your brain is a little too fuzzy to dissect it completely. Turning off the heat, you quickly add bacon and parmesan before tossing the chicken and sauce mixture on top of Joel's freshly strained pasta.

He hovers over you like he hasn't eaten for days, grumbling something about sweet torture as you garnish his bowl with freshly grated cheese. Turning your attention to the table you see a second bottle of champagne adorning a small dining set, and your flukes full and awaiting your attention, and your blush returns, what is happening to you?

Dismissing himself to turn the music lower, you set his plate down and settle into your chair beside his. Briefly, you consider refusing another glass, you were supposed to drive home, but his slightly tousled curls and the nonplussed smirk on his face as he walks into your field of vision wash over your body like a cool shower on a hot Austin evening, refreshing, revitalizing, and rewarding you with his simplistic beauty.

The way his eyes fell to yours with each silly verse, speaking to each moment you’ve swooned over him in private and cementing the swell of your heart. He sits and you both immediately dive into the food, moaning in unison at the salty and creamy flavor. “I get it.”

“For sure.” You confirm, shoveling more into your mouth as delicately as you can in your haste. “I’ll keep it in my back pocket for sure.” You both laugh and reach for your champagne for a toast.

“To the luckiest man in the world.” This time, he does a piss poor job of covering his shock, and you don’t dare let the moment slip from your grasp, setting your fork down, and reaching to settle your hand on his forearm, tenderly running your fingers over the rough-tanned skin.

The affection seems to coach a weight from his shoulders, as the tension in them drops and he meets your eyes with a deep and wicked sense of playfulness. Holding his gaze, and touching the lips of the flukes together you smile innocently, and hum as the cool bubbles coat your tongue and lift your confidence higher with every passing moment.

In a flash you feel the energy in the room shift, as silence flirtatious eye contact is shared between smaller sips of champagne and groans of delight, you find your eyes lingering longer on the base of his throat and the purse of his lips around the tip of the glass.

In your stupor you miss his devilish grin, he’s chasing the feeling of your gaze on his skin, drinking in the slip of your guard, and suddenly the incredible food you prepared for him is not nearly enough to sate him.

It’s his turn to stare, watching as your lips part in a soft pant as he takes a lingering swig from his glass, imagining how delicious this could pair with the taste of your pussy. Fuck, he’s so hopeless, you could talk him into anything, yet you sit and torture yourself undressing him with your eyes and practically projecting your dirty thoughts onto his chest.

When your eyes meet again your breath catches in your throat, some snarky comment you bury beneath the burning fire on your cheeks. “Joel…” it’s an invitation, a plea, and your heart stands still in its cage in the breath between your words and his mouth on yours.

His beard and moustache are rough against your lips, but the kiss is hungry, and not nearly as vulnerable as you feel. It's a clash of tongues and teeth, your bodies are drawn together like the world is stitching them together with desperate rough movements.

You can taste the rich sweet champagne on his tongue as it drags over yours, tilting your head back with a soft hand on your throat. Standing to his feet, he breaks the kiss with a reluctance you feel, but he’s ushering the plates off the table in a single trip, setting them on the counter to be dealt with later. The complaint dies in your throat, as you let your brain devour him in a primal sense. The broad expanse of his chest rising and falling in heavy needy breath, the veins in his neck as he tilts his head to return the same hungry stare, you don’t make it past his biceps before his hands are on your sides, directing you to stand but only for a mere second as your practically lifted onto the kitchen table.

His mouth is on yours again, hot and determined, your mind is made up, and he can feel it in each little whine he swallows. Confidence surges through him, bolstered by the hum of alcohol in his system, and he leans over you guiding you to your back, while he slots himself between your legs.

You part them quickly, wanting to feel him pressed against you more than you want to breathe, and rather than following you he kisses down the smooth skin of your calves and begins working on the button of your shorts, yanking them up and off with a dexterity that would surprise you had it been anyone else.

The thin cotton panties are not your first choice of sexy intimates, but it doesn’t seem to phase him as his gaze holds at the growing wet spot pooling in the fabric. His index fingers ghost over the seam of your pussy. “Are you sure?” He kisses the words across your skin, moving along the inside of your thighs as his stubble draws the nerves in your skin taught.

You blink your eyes a few times, almost not believing and basking in the warmth of his breath. Your mouth falls open in a pant as you throw your head back onto the table, in any other circumstance it would've hurt. “Yes…Joel…please.” Each word takes a lungful of air worth of effort.

There's a dark chuckle as if taunting you for being so pathetic, as he nibbles on the skin of your inner thigh, you feel goosebumps spread across all your skin, unaware if it's from shame or the heat of his mouth muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

“So pretty,” he coos letting two fingers trace over your slick panties, “Spread out on my table for me,” he presses harder but slows his movements to a beautifully slow taunt, “A fucking meal.”

The chair moves sharply back with his movement, as he pulls your underwear to the side and licks at your hole for his first taste. His mouth is feverish in appetite, licking and sucking and caressing each part of your sex, the assault is overwhelming at first, the movements so erratic you’re unable to focus on anything but trying to breathe. Cantering your hips against his mouth his rough palm stalls one of your thighs from closing, the hand is firm and warm commanding you to obey in just its presence. “More,” you beg, again the pleasure dulled as he slowed to listen.

His free hand goes to the waistband of your underwear running along its length and tickling the skin, before you feel a rough tug at the fabric and hear the tearing sound before you can even comprehend what’s happened. The fabric disappears and the soft table mat you are perched on protects you from the cool wood of the table. He mumbles more things into the flesh of your mound, and he kisses at the exposed skin of your hips, “Sweet little thing.”

You throw a hand over your eyes, losing yourself to the embraces and brushes of pleasure he showers you in. He settles back between your legs, pinning them to your chest with his arm and working two fingers slowly into your tight heat. The stretch is pleasant, and he lets his tongue lave over the top of your sex. “Joel.” You whimper feeling his knuckles curl inwards brushing against a bundle of nerves that has your vision lulling white. Each stroke feels like it's pulling your soul from your body, and an unfamiliar pressure builds as he coaxes the orgasm to the surface with his tongue swirling over your clit.

You explode, soaking the table and his hungry waiting mouth feeling the clear gush of liquid pool beneath you and coat your thighs. “Oh god, I’m sorry I-” you stammer, not having experienced this yourself before.

Joel’s attention snaps to your eyes, “Don’t.” It's a warning, his eyes dark and muddled with something animalistic you’ve only seen when he’s angry. “You’re going to do it again.” he sits straight, and you realize he’s still fully dressed as he stands on his feet, dwarfing you against the table, undoing the length of his belt.

Unsure if your breathing is coming fast or if he is moving slowly, undoing the buttons of his flannel, and exposing skin that you’ve seen countless times before, but as each button is freed and his shirt spills open, you struggle to keep your breath even. Thick tanned skin, soft to the touch but cords of practical muscle run through his pecks, and down his well-defined biceps hold your eyes still, as your heart clips away steadily. You mumble something about his muscles, fawning over him like you’ve done so many times before, but unafraid to get caught this time.

He peers down at you, maintaining eye contact through your spread thighs as you lay waiting gawking at him like you always have, the loose leather of his belt is tugging the jeans down his hips slightly exposing the soft flesh of his stomach and the feather-light trail of hair disappearing below his jeans. He longed to reduce you to a babbling drooling mess, he wanted to mark your skin his and fill you so full his traces would linger on your cunt for days. Days, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to stop, he felt like he was running downhill and his legs were jelly beneath him, hurtling towards some sort of self-destructive meltdown. But the sweet tang of you lingering in his mouth, splashed across his chest, on his dining room table.

You were perfect, even more so than he thought possible. He ached, the jeans strangling his thick cock, he longed to free himself and sink into you. “Come here.” he stepped closer, back between the welcome squeeze of your thighs, and he wondered if he would need a new table.

You sat up barely even with his chest and when you're close enough he brings you in for a deep and filthy kiss, giving you a chance to taste your slick from his tongue and to groan as your hand settles over the hard length of his cock in his pants. You allow a finger to trace over the outline surprised when your hand keeps finding more of him to play with, fighting the urge to squeak in delight as each kiss grows in fervor.

If Joel hadn't suggested otherwise, you would've happily been fucked to bliss on the table, but as one of his hands falls to cup the supple flesh of your ass you're lifted into his sturdy arms. Now even this isn't a first, but your cunt is pressed flat to the ripped muscles of his abdomen and you can't help but trail feather-like kisses and nips across the thin skin covering his Adam's apple, half tempted to suck a bruise into his skin as he whines lowly into hair.

He traverses the stairs with ease, fingers squeezing and playing with your ass as he does so. As you enter his room, he leans in for another searing desperate kiss, nipping and tugging on your bottom lip almost painfully slow.

The bed is plush, more so than you expect, the sheets feel cool and inviting as you settle into them, not daring to turn your attention away from Joel for a second. The moon is the only light in the room, but it's bright enough for you to drool over the large bulge he reveals as he shucks his jeans.

“Something you want darlin?” that all-knowing chuckle, call your attention to his face, always handsome but there's a depravity and a hunger in his eyes that is a little bit intimidating.

“I-” You struggle to decide what exactly it is you want to do, part of you wants to let him lay down and have you suck his cock dry, and the other part wants to see you bent in half stuffed full of his cum.

Your stumble only brings another dry chastising chuckle, “Don’t worry honey, I'll take care of you.” His dark boxers leave little to the imagination, the fabric pulled tight across him as the curve of his cock is pinned to the curve of his hip. He’s huge, bigger than you could’ve dreamed, and by the looks of it nice and thick, you would be happily limping around in the morning.

He plants his hands next to your legs, crawling up your body until he’s even with your mouth, his skin radiating heat and his mouth meets yours once more. The taste of you is still lingering in his mouth, spurring you on.

The clothed hardness of him presses against you, insistent and delightfully relieving the tortuous pressure building at your core. You run your hands against the muscles of his back, at first gently caressing but as his teeth skim your pulse you dig into the flesh with your nails. “Joel…” you whimper, knowing if he wanted to drag this any further you'd have no choice but to beg, there's something so addictive to his power and the way he looks at you. He knows what he's doing to you, he knows the way you shift your hips to grind against him is a silent plea, he wishes he could withhold longer, but each hitch in your breath coaxes more precome spilling into his boxers, he hasn't been this hard since he was a teenager.

He hushes you, soothing you with a hand running over your hair, and shoves his boxers down to free himself. He lets the weight of his cock slide over your sex, the thick head catching deliciously on your clit and allowing it to get coated in what's left of your cum. You both groan into another kiss, “Condom?” The question shocks you into reality briefly, but you quickly shake your head no, not bothering an attempt to form any words.

You swear you hear a whimper in his half-lidded chuckle, but you try to focus on the feeling of his body pressing against yours, the heat of him and the rich smell of his skin the taste of his mouth as he kisses you through a few more lazy strokes.

He runs a calloused hand over the soft skin of your throat before sliding it around and into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your eyes to his As he lines up and slides in a single brutal thrust. Your body tenses at the stretch, but the pleasure is immense and Joel's mouth parts in a pant so beautifully you crack a wickedly seductive smile.

As he begins to canter his hips, his grip on your hair gets tighter, holding your eyes to his, his pelvis grinds delectably against your clit, as the ridges of his cock and the angle of his hips drag along your walls. You wonder if you'd been able to take it if it hadn't been Joel, you don't think you've ever been this fucked out in your life. He presses your legs slightly further apart nudging at your cervix, and grounding down.

The orgasm rips through you before you know it, the shake in your legs and your panted obscenities only encourage him further. “Fuck, good girl,” your hips love on their own grinding up fucking yourself through the climax as a second wave of white-hot pleasure soaks his abdomen and your thighs, “So good baby.”

Your head drops, body limp and wrecked he kisses along your cheeks and forehead, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

He moves quicker than you can register what's happening, his boxers are on the floor and suddenly you are straddled over his lap dropping down onto his cock as he buries his face in your tits. Tongue drags deliciously over your nipples as he lets you adjust to the new angle, you rest your head on top of his, kissing his sweat-damp hair and rocking your hips slowly. You didn't think he could feel any bigger, each slight rock nudges almost painfully against your cervix, words no longer forming in your brain and breath escaping in squeaks.

You let yourself get caught up in the moans and praise failing out of Joel nonsensically, the drag of his stubble on your skin overstimulating, you bear down on him and shiver as you hear the hitches in his breathing. “Where?” you almost miss it, his voice is hoarse, desperate, strained even.

“Cum inside me.” you can't suppress the smirk, “I want it.” It's your turn to pull his head back, looking deep into the rich dark brown eyes as they admire you, he chews on his lip. His shoulders hunch as you feel him twitch, his grip tightening on your hips as he uses the last bit of his strength to bounce you on his lap and fuck up into you as he cums deep and hard into your wrecked swollen pussy.

You suppress a shutter, you feel like you're made of gelatin and you slump against his body, going completely slack.

He waits a few moments to collect his wits and allows you both to catch your breath. “Should I start a shower?” You laugh, hoping to skirt over any sort of rebuff.

“Sure,” he massages the flesh of your ass, “I'll take care of the leftovers.” You're overwhelmed with a sense of relief, both letting out a massive sigh at the same time, and laughing once you make eye contact again. You feel his heartbeat against your chest and lean in for another kiss, the complicated stuff can come later, but the smile he gives you as he tilts his chin up slightly for the kiss, makes you feel like it's all going to be more than you could've dreamed of.

Part 2

[pleasantspark]

Dissecting the Inconsistencies in Poison (Commentary)

For some fucking reason despite this song intending to be Anti-Rape and Blake trying to be the next Michael Kovich with him trying so hard to sound like him, the song makes me think it's Pro-Rape.

I'm not above a love to cash in Another lover underneath those flashin' lights Another one of those ruthless nights Yeah, yeah, yeah

In this verse, Angel Dust is talking about his work as being a Porn Star, and how he spends time under the spotlight recording with strangers "Another lover" implies there's more than one each night.

I shoulda' guessed that this would happen I shoulda' known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes Spewin' all your red-hot lies Yeah, yeah, yeah

In this verse, he laments on how he should have guessed what had happened, and how he should have known it by telling from a red flag via Valentino. Red hot lies are also referring to manipulation.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

He blames himself for ending up in this Hell.

'Cause I know you're poison You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm livin' like there's no tomorrow

This verse conflicts me, on one hand, he's accepting of the poison and refusing the much needed help, and I am pretty sure Val isn't actively trying to isolate him from anyone else, which makes him less of a threat and all of his threats have to do with something related to making Angel Dust fuck other people. And most of the threats sound so goofy that it makes me wanna fucking cringe.

He's talking about how he has no choice but to accept the poison I get it, he's a victim but the thing is about Angel Dust as a whole is, that the song is not even representive of the fact this guy is a victim of SA, rather he's depicted as enjoying it and doing all this.

Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison

Most of the time, I believe he finds himself in a place where he is trapped, although there's tons of people who he cares about. The best part of a character arc for him would technically be Angel Dust being led to believe most of the people in the Hotel were "using him" and that he is forced to stay with Val until he is showed that people care about him.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear Yeah, yeah, yeah So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp

In this verse, he is completely talking about losing himself, and falling into the gulp of Val's poison. Which we don't see any of.

Yeah, I know it's poison You're feedin' me poison I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison Poison, I'm drownin' in poison I'm fillin' up my glass but it's always hollow Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison Wish I had something to live for tomorrow…

And it ends with him having a (semi) realistic panic attack to distract us from the fact that Angel Dust deadass sang a Love Song about his abuser.

This is a Pop Song.

I feel like making a song about anti-rape SHOULDN'T be something like Pop, it's too cheerful and makes it insensitive. I feel like something on the level of Nirvana can actually work out.

In Conclusion, while Poison is catchy, it's NOT a good song at all, and gives me mixed signals. Compared to Addict its a complete downgrade of it, beyond the vocals and lyrics. No 8 year old should be listening to this, and no one should "Cum" to the visuals VivziePop.

[ladyniniane]

The worst Greek mythology retelling?

Unless you live in a cave (lucky you), you can't have escaped the wave of Greek mythology retellings. Some are bad, some are good and most of them are mediocre. Among those I've read, one was particularly bad and cringe and we are going to dissect it today.

PSA: As you can see, I didn't include the book's title in the post, nor use specific tags. This post is primarily aimed at me and my mutuals. If you disagree, feel free to block me and mask my username. You're the master of your ship and the only one who can curate your internet experience. Rude comments will be sent to the Tartarus blocked. And I mean, you aren't going to change my mind anyway so don't bother trying😎.

Now that we are done, let me introduce you to this book.

I already see some of you in the back rows being like "But Niniane, why did you bother with this? It's obviously going to be bad!". Well, sometimes I need things that are light and easy to read. Everyone needs to turn their brain off from time to time.

And besides, it looked inoffensive. The idea of modern women being isekaied during the Trojan War is fun. As a writer and enjoyer of OC fanfics, I absolutely love new takes and dynamics with existing characters.

Except that...it wasn't fun at all! Let's dive! And I hope you're prepared because it's gonna be a ride.

-So it starts with the goddesses being fed up with the Trojan War and male egos (Lego des Zhommes if you're French). They decide to find a way to stop the war. So far, so good.

-And their solution is to...send modern women back in time. Yeah, because they think that ancient-era women are too weak and meek. Only independent modern women will be able to handle those strong warriors:

"modern mortal women are different from ancient women [...] they're independent and smart and not used to bowing down and taking orders [...] maidens from the ancient world are not equipped to handle such a man, but I know that modern mortal women are different ---stronger, smarter, more independent."

Yes, you've read correctly.

First of all, it reeks of victim-blaming. If the Trojan women had been more assertive, they could have stopped this. It could have prevented them from being raped and enslaved! They just had to lean in and...Stop, stop. And I'm sorry but those ancient women are more equipped with dealing with that sort of men because they live with them every day. Idk the goddesses could have just...empowered the Trojan women so they could resist? Send the Amazons to help (with more success than in the original myths)? Give them a safe place where they could be protected?

-So, anyway, the heroine is transported in the body of a Trojan princess. But there is another problem. The heroine's friend who transmigrates with her is black. And she gets turned into a white woman. The reason? "Jacqueline’s lovely dark skin would be too hard to explain among the golden Greeks"(sic.). Here, we can see that the author didn't bother doing her research. Many stories regarding the Trojan War have an African king come to the Trojans' aid. The ancient world was furthermore interconnected. So yes, it would have been f*cking easy to explain. And to add insult to injury, our black woman turned white becomes the servant of the main character and is treated as her property.

-So anyway, MC becomes Achilles' war prize. And being a war prize is such a cool and fun life! You can wander around the camp, with no fear of being sexually assaulted!

-MC is a therapist and wants to try to help Achilles. She thus practices hypnosis on him and decides to have sex with him while he's still in that state. So, she basically rapes him. The worst thing: she knows it's wrong, but she does it anyway and she isn't sorry.

-Then, Achilles tells the MC that he has frequent bouts of berserk rage and that he even raped a woman. But he didn't mean to do it. Poor meow meow.

Needless to say, I stopped here. This wasn't fun, this was downright insensitive. The ending is predictable: MC ends up with Achilles and MC's best friend with Patroclus because no one can stay single!

Anyway, that was, imo, the worst Greek mythology retelling.

[lambilegs]

thoughts on service top lee harker who’s awkward and anxious but then gets super into it everytime

service top!lee headcanons (contains: lee eating out reader, lee using strap-on, strap referred to as "cock," dirty talk, nipple play, reader is referred to as having a "pussy," "cunt, "tits")

hehehehe I love this soooo much <33 she is SUCH a service top I love her

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ -> lee when she gets shit done

first time she eats you out, she just stares at your pussy KDJSKDJ as though she's committing it to memory. you squirm and get so embarrassed and shy under her intense gaze, but want to give her her time to do whatever she needs to do to prepare herself. internally, she's just SO intimidated and her inner-inspective side just needs to visually dissect your pussy for a sec LMFAO

oh, but when she eats it, she eats it. she starts off with an awkward clear of her throat, tentatively licking and kissing, but as you get wetter and start rubbing into her face, she gets more lost in the motions, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoving you closer, moving her mouth harder, sucking your folds and pussy lips, dotting soft, wet kisses to your clit, then lapping at the bud with the flat of her tongue

just is obsessed with making you feel good. she gets so lost in the pleasure of making you feel good, face deep in your cunt, just mindlessly licking and wrapping her lips around every inch of you. when you moan, babbling, "lee, feels so good," or, "god, keep doing that," she clenches her thighs, aching at the words

moans, face tense and scrunched up, whenever she first slides her fingers into your pussy, relishing in the hot, wet feeling of your cunt. she quietly curses when you tighten on her, awkwardly avoiding meeting your eyes when she feels your body rumbling in laughter. she just focuses on your pussy, and how it feels. if you coax her to look at you, she's a mess, stomach fluttering, trying so hard to resist the urge to look away, feeling tense under your gaze and when equipped with the task of pleasuring you. she gets used to it, though, and eventually, it's her hand on your jaw, gently guiding you to stare at her as she fingerfucks you hard and fast

can just imagine her hopping and struggling to get into the harness of the strap, her movements even more stiff and uncomfortable as you laugh from your place in the bed

when she first straps you, she's on her knees in front of your body, your legs stretched out. her hands are shaking as she grabs the dildo, breaths heavy and clearly strained. you reach out to any part of her you can reach, gripping her forearm or rubbing her tummy, whispering it'll be okay. she takes some even, calming breaths, then pushes into you. you nearly shrivel up at how she watches your pussy gap and open as she pushes the dildo in, bottom lip latched behind your teeth

when she's fully pushed in, her eyes move to yours, flicking over your face. "does that feel good?" it's not even dirty talk, poor baby is just truly concerned JDKJDK when you nod, moaning, she gives a tentative thrust, eyes trained on you. she silently awaits for your approval, which takes you a few moments to figure out, so you laugh and tell her it's really good, legs wrapping around her waist.

she shakily breathes in, and continues pumping her cock into you, swallowing hard when you arch up. she can't help herself, reaching down and squeezing your tits and rubbing your nipples. the moans and squeals you release at that touch encourage her further, and she starts thrusting harder

minutes later, your sweaty bodies are rubbing together, her strap pounding hard into you, moans and grunts tumbling from her lips against your ear. when you scratch along her back, she bites your neck, arousal coursing through her. the harness rubs just right on her clit, and she keeps pushing into you, desperate to make you come

she whispers into your ear, "baby, please come. I need it, need it so bad." with how desperately she begs for you to do, it's almost as though she's seeking out her own orgasm -- she wants you to come that bad

anyways service top!lee ily

[anjaelle]

The Next Great American Epic

Pairings: Professor!Oscar Isaac x Black Female!Reader

Warnings: Oral (f!receiving), Age Gap (Reader is in mid-late 20s), Student x Teacher Relationship, Unprotected Sex (strap up, people), implied infidelity

Summary: Professor Hernandez Estrada is a proven smartass and literary genius. As much as you can't stand the way he tears your work to shreds, you can't help but respect him and hold his opinion of you in high regard.

Word Count: 4.2K

a/n: Based on this post and the intense love I have for gray, studious looking Oscar. I started this in July 2022, and I'm just now finishing it. I'm semi ashamed but also not. Don't judge me.

(gif source)

Oscar treated every lecture like a performance, to some degree. You could feel the passion behind his words and knew he spent countless sleepless nights dissecting the language of the great intellectuals before him.

He was a nerd, thus, incredibly attractive in that "dad's best friend who's a museum curator and laughs at his own history jokes" kind of way. His written work was brilliant. You wanted to impress him. Not just because he was cute--though that was a bonus--but because he pissed you off with how incredibly critical he was of you. You were convinced he did it just to fuck with you, specifically, for shits and giggles. Every so often, you'd zone out imagining him cackling madly at your work, using his Red Pen of Death to hurt your pride. Sometimes you'd imagine a deeply passionate argument between you two, ending with you throwing things. Sometimes it ended with you splayed out on his desk. Again.

When that happened, you'd mentally return to the lecture and find him looking at you, curiously. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that he could read your thoughts.

He paced the front of the room in a heavy black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, occasionally pushing his thick rimmed glasses up his nose as he spoke. The brief pauses he took to sip water or ask a question were punctuated by the click-clack of keyboards throughout the room. Or, in your case, the shuffling of papers. Writing with pen to paper helped your scattered brain remember things better, though you couldn't help but feel largely out of touch for the archaic method of note-taking.

"Who decides what literary work is inherently American?" He asked to the class, "Where's the line? When the artist of color is placed into a box as an 'other' or designated as American with an asterisk, are publications and critics implying that the author is not truly American?

"After all," he said, removing his glasses to wipe them, "the cultural zeitgeist is shaped by an amalgamation of many experiences. Is the story of an immigrant from Colombia 100 years ago any less American than the tale of a farmer from Oklahoma during the Great Depression? When we ask for tried and true stories of American Grit, whose stories are we reading?"

Sure, he said that experiences mattered. But, god, was he anal about the details. The newest revision of your work peeked from behind your notebook, scarred in red ink. When you received it back earlier that afternoon, you resisted the burning desire to throw it back at him and tell him to eat a dick. The first couple of times he shot your writing down, you could understand perfectly what he was looking for. This time, you were sure that you were following his advice down to the letter, and it still wasn't good enough for him.

He absentmindedly pushed his salt and pepper curls from his forehead and you wanted to flip a table.

Oscar paused his pacing in front of your desk as you scribbled your thoughts down. You chanced a glance at him to find him already looking over your notes.

"Huh," he had the audacity to smile at you and mutter softly, "Nice handwriting."

Your cheeks warmed at the praise of your neatly looping cursive. The eyes of your peers burned into your back.

He gently tapped your desk with his calloused knuckle and continued on with his lecture, as if his little comment was just a natural part of his daily performance. It was the first time in a while that you'd interacted with him in a way that didn't involve him explaining why your marked up thesis was shit. You could appreciate the compliment, even if it had nothing to do with the quality of the work you put blood, sweat, and tears into.

And now you were annoyed again.

You knew that Oscar wasn't surprised to find you standing outside of his office. A polite smile graced his lips, though something else flickered across his features that you vaguely recognized. You plastered your own polite smile on your face and waved your thick stack of paper at him.

"Explain, Oscar."

Without another word, he tiredly unlocked his office door and motioned for you to enter the roomy space. Numerous large bookcases lined the wall parallel to his desk, and stacks of newspapers and literary journals decorated the ottoman rug that spanned the width of his office. A small fridge and espresso machine sat on a desk in the corner. Above it was a fading portrait of a young looking South Asian man with neatly combed hair and a trimmed mustache, wearing a smart looking suit. The first time you saw it, you surmised by the aged clothing and studious expression that it was a portrait of the university’s very first professor of color, Benjamin Kapoor.

The office was nearly the size of your studio apartment. Perfect for the department head, you thought. The minute he shut the door behind him, he sighed and ran his hand down his face.

"Well, first of all, 'Hey Oscar, how are you?' I'm great. Thanks for asking," He sarcastically quipped. “Would you like some coffee? Maybe some tea, if you’re cutting back on your habit, again?”

"Small talk is redundant," you handed him your papers, "you know why I'm here."

He plopped down in the plush chair behind his desk, and you followed suit on the couch beside it. His chair creaked as he leaned back and thumbed through the pages, reading his own notes. You couldn't quite get a read on his perception, but he hummed in thought. After a couple of minutes he handed your work back to you and shrugged.

"In simple terms: it's mechanical. You’re holding back on putting emotion into your characters. Your protagonist's factory worker father and merchant marine brother don’t feel real. It's too matter-of-fact. Too cold."

You shook your head in frustration, "I don't understand. First, you tell me that my language is too flowery. Now you're saying it's too mechanical. Which is it? Pick a criticism, because now it just feels like you're pulling it out of your ass."

The words slipped out before you could catch them, and your eyes widened in surprise at the venom laced in your tone. But, to your surprise, Oscar just laughed.

"Look, find a middle ground. I don't know how else to state it any plainer than I already have."

You wondered if you'd get expelled for throwing his briefcase out the window.

"I'm glad you think your bias is funny."

His expression changed at the implication, and he stared at you in confusion.

"Bias? Jesus, is that what you think?"

The words you'd been holding in for the majority of the semester came spilling out of you.

"I feel like you don't really respect me as a writer," you crossed your arms, "You think I'm stupid. Or incompetent. But this right here," you motioned to the paper in your lap, "This is just ridiculous. It's nitpicking and tearing my work to shreds. Do you get something out of this? This story means a lot to me. It's the story of my family. Do you understand the level of research and reading it took to bring this work into fruition? With all due respect, it's fucking hard, Oscar. I'm doing the best I can."

He merely stared at you with furrowed brows, "With as long as my tenure has been—for as long as you’ve known me, you think I don't know this?" He stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk in front of you, "You think this problem is unique to you? I aim to challenge all of my students."

You laughed humorlessly, "I've seen the notes you write on other people's stories. It's nowhere near the same level of harsh."

"To you, it may not be."

"I still don't understand what you want from me. More details. Less details. More emotion. Less emotion. Descriptors, but not too descriptive. Make your characters realistic, but oh no, not too mundane. It's all bullshit--"

"It's missing the essence of you." He confessed, scratching his bearded chin, "Your story reads like something anyone could write. The only personal touches in your story--and if you notice, the only things I haven't edited much--are your letters and journal entries. They give a clear idea of how your characters interact with one another. And I think you add a little bit of yourself to them, outside of the narrative.

"Your voice is prevalent in everything you write. Unique and intuitive. Your work isn’t you, Bee. I miss...that."

There was a pregnant pause. Your stomach swooped at the slip of your old nickname, and you crossed your legs to stop the nervous fidgeting. He swallowed hard, and toyed with the watch on his wrist.

"I think..." you began, meeting his eyes for the first time, "I think I'm subconsciously trying to sound like you. Even though you piss me off."

He barked out a laugh, "I don't know if that's a compliment or a testament to how I can improve."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He soldiered on.

"You're a brilliant writer. I just know you can do better," he drummed his fingers on his desk. Suddenly he grinned at you, "You've read my writing? You like my writing? And you're admitting it freely? And here I was thinking you hated me." Now it was your turn to furrow your brows in confusion. Catching your expression, he explained, "Every time I look at you, you either look bored, lost in your own thoughts, or like you want to murder me. And then there's the arguing--"

"I don't hate you, Oscar. You just exhaust me." You said, standing up to meet him at eye level. "You'd argue with you, too. You can't always be the only sarcastic asshole in the room."

He looked at you with a mix of amusement and what you could only describe as relief. He leaned forward, letting out a deep breath he seemed to be holding the entire time. You were close enough to smell his favorite dark roast coffee and his signature cologne--something bold, but warm and comfy. Kind of like him.

"Did you have any other questions? About the thesis or...something? You know you can ask me anything." he crossed his arms over his chest. Was he flexing? The thought tickled you.

"Just one. But not about the thesis." You asked, gently, taking a step towards him, "You said every time you look at me, I look pensive. How often do you look at me?"

He eyed you slowly. Fire danced behind his gaze, despite his calm demeanor. It reminded you of the look on his face when he read a moving sonnet or recited romantic prose. The sight of him looking at you like his favorite work of art made your belly warm. After a beat of silence that dragged on for ages, he licked his lips and shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away from you. He murmured, "More often than I should." Then he sighed, "We shouldn't be having this conversation. I'm not--it's..."

"No you're right," you began, feeling the rush of bravery trickling from your quickly beating heart, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You could never do that. It's just not professional--"

"It's SUPER unprofessional actually--"

"--you could lose your grant and--"

"--you JUST finalized the divorce--"

"--implicit bias and difficulty being objective--"

"--it's just a passing thought."

He pushed away from the desk, taking a step closer to you, and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"Maybe..." he cleared his throat, "you might want to...go."

You nodded, "I should leave."

"I could walk you out."

Neither of you made another move and his fingers tapped on his thigh. You watched his eyes travel from your face and down your body, as if he could see right through your clothes.

"Are you?"

He was so close that you could count every single strand of hair in his thick, coarse beard.

"Am I...?" He questioned, eyes dropping to your lips.

"Going to walk me out?" You finished. You could see him weighing his options. He glanced at the door, then back at you.

“I…it’s—” He sighed again, “I miss you, Bee.”

You wanted to get mad and tell him that he wasn’t allowed to do this. You felt stupid for being so easily baited by a smile and sharp wit. Instead of being smart and telling him to fuck off, you shook your head.

“You miss feeling wanted,” you corrected, “You don’t miss me.”

“You don’t know how wrong that is. Do you know how many times I’ve gone out with other women and found myself thinking ‘I wonder what Bee’s doing right now. Is she with someone else? Am I making a mistake?’” He removed a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it on the desk, “I thought I was making a good choice. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.”

“A good choice for who, exactly?” You asked, eyeing him with skepticism.

“For both of us. For you.”

You could admit that hooking up with him while he was in the process of a divorce was messy. For the brief 3 months you were together over the summer, you couldn’t stop being doubtful. It blurred the lines of whether he was fucking his sadness away or if he truly had feelings for you. You felt your fingers twitch as if they wanted to reach out and grab him. Instead, you shoved your traitorous hand into your back pocket. You were petty enough to not be the first one to make a move.

“The thing is, Oscar, I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you to make decisions for me.” You countered, “I might be younger, sure, but I’m not a kid.”

“I know.” He agreed, quietly.

“You said you wanted time to process things—”

“33 Weeks,” he said, suddenly, “An arduous, sunless, painful 33 weeks without you. I never fully understood the pain of missing you until I was forced to see you and not touch you. Every time you speak or look at me or challenge me, I feel even more stupid for letting you go.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “You are stupid.”

You cracked a smile at him and he smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners behind his frames. He reached out and caressed your face, tracing a calloused thumb along your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

“Goddamn you’re beautiful,” he groaned, slowly closing his eyes. You could trace every wrinkle, freckle, and scar with a finger from memory, if you wanted to. The spearmint gum he favored between smoke breaks tickled your nose, and his hand slipped down to the point where your throat met your clavicle.

You were keenly aware that your pulse was thrumming rapidly under his pen-calloused fingers, and that your chest rose and fell in quick succession. You closed the space between you, pulling him in for a deep kiss. The traitorous hand that freed itself from the confines of your pocket curled into his sweater. Oscar's arm snaked around your waist and the hand near your throat tightened, pulling a low, strained moan out of you. He mockingly mimicked your moan and pulled away to kiss along your jaw.

"You need to be a little quiet, Bee," he nipped at your skin and you smiled, "you don't want the others to hear, do you?"

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, and you knew he could see the devilish glint dancing in them.

"I mean, I can try."

When you stretched out over his tidy mahogany desk and he pushed your legs apart, hiking your skirt over your ass, you couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that pulled at your lips. You wanted this for so long. You craved it. None of the toys in your nightstand could compare to the feeling of his strong hands on your thighs and the feel of his tongue teasing you open.

"Oh my god...look at you," he sighed, burying his face deep between your legs. You giggled, running your fingers through his curls to grab a handful and pulling a soft groan from his lips. Your hips twitched when he pressed a firm thumb against the front of your panties. The way his breath hitched left a deeper feeling of longing that seemed alien to you. And as he peeled the fabric to the side and spread you open to him, his free hand gripped your thigh greedily and hiked your leg up with your knee to your chest.

You felt your heart thrumming in your ears with anticipation and the major thrill of someone potentially walking in on you with his head between your legs. He wrapped his lips around you, swirling his tongue in small quick circles in that same way you loved and could never quite get used to. Your mouth fell open as the haze of ecstacy started to cloud any thoughts that weren't about him.

"I needed you." You whispered, gently scratching his scalp, "I needed you so bad."

He hummed, moaning against you and tickling your inner thighs with the soft hair of his beard. You peered down at him to watch him devour you like a starving man's first meal. He'd taken his glasses off, and you could see the way his lashes fluttered in complete bliss as he dipped his tongue into you. He looked up at you and locked eyes just as a shrill moan threatened to burst from your lips. You quickly covered your mouth and you felt him smile at you. He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his thick fingers. With each flick of the hand he watched you arch your back off his desk and scramble to grab onto something...anything to ground you.

He sharply pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and hoisted your other knee up to your chest, leaving you completely exposed to him and anyone that could walk in the room. He teased you with the tip of his tongue, watching you squirm impatiently before he curled his tongue against your clit.

He'd been dreaming of seeing you like this. But even his dreams couldn't live up to the reality of how sweet you tasted and the look of nirvana on your face. He He could hear the sharp intake of breath and the small whimpers you earnestly tried to swallow down. He wanted to tell you to be as loud as you wanted. Fuck the rules and anyone who heard. But that'd be stupid.

And you didn't deserve stupid.

He found that perfect sensitive spot that made you smack the desk with your hand and try to wriggle away from his mouth, but he pulled you closer.

"Mm-mm, no running." He mumbled nipping your thigh. He returned his lips to you, sucking you slowly between his lips. Your chest heaved, and you scrambled to figure out what to do with your hands. When you reached down to press his face harder between your thighs, he let himself release a low, muffled groan. He needed you so fucking badly. He wanted to stretch this out for as long as he could, but he knew that was impossible.

He wanted to make the most out of the limited time he had with you.

He pulled his mouth away and dipped his fingers into you, coaxing you closer to the edge. And when he leaned forward to kiss you, you pulled him in hungrily, wrapping your thighs around his hips and undoing his belt with quick fingers. He pulled away to look you over once again: your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, your eyes were glazed, and you looked fucking beautiful. You reached up to stroke his cheek.

"What?" You asked, scrunching your nose at him.

"Are you sure?"

"About?"

His hand remained splayed on your lower stomach and your fingers were hooked in the waistband of his boxers. You sat up and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

Oscar murmured, "Bee, if we do this, I'm not going back to keeping my distance. I'm going to fuck you in every corner of this office. I'm going to want you again," He kissed you, "and again," another kiss, "and again."

You absentmindedly brushed your fingers against his lower stomach and traced the outline of his dick through his boxers. "And on the weekends?"

You dipped your hand behind his waistband, and pulled it down to wrap your hand around him. He hissed sharply, shutting his eyes.

"Shit, honey..." he groaned. "I'm all yours."

You slowly stroked him, watching him melt under your touch. For a moment you could see the younger version of him, just as handsome but not nearly as refined as he liked to present himself in public. His salt and pepper curls were no longer neatly styled and you saw the hint of flush peeking out from under his olive skin. His perfect mouth fell open as you traced the swollen head of him with your thumb.

When you finally took a breath and felt him guide himself into you, that familiar flutter in your lower stomach made you bite your lower lip. A deep shudder wracked both of your bodies like your first hit of a long abandoned drug. He kept the pace slow and steady, focusing on the way you felt around him and trying to keep it to memory like he'd never experience it again.

You pulled him down for another deep kiss, wanting a connection with him in every way possible. You noticed the brief way his strokes faltered, and the way he grabbed your thighs to pull them around his hips to push deeper into you and at just the right angle to make you cry out.

"Right there," you pleaded, arching your hips up to angle him deeper, "God, rightthere rightthere rightthere."

He grunted, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he picked up the rhythm of his hips. "You're perfect for me. You're fucking perfect, angel. I'm never letting you go again."

You tried to form coherent thoughts and words, but everything turned to a sludge of gibberish on your tongue.

You hated the way that he seemed to know you like a familiar map. It was so easy to drown in him. When you reached down to touch yourself, he grabbed your hand and pinned it to the desk, interlacing your fingers. He dipped his free hand between you, choosing to tease your clit with his thumb while he picked up the pace of his strokes.

"Did you miss this, Bee?" He murmured under his breath.

You nodded, allowing your eyes to drift closed.

"No, baby, look at me." He commanded.

You did as you were told, looking deep into his gorgeous dark eyes that seemed to read you from the inside out.

"Did you miss me?"

"I missed this so much." you moaned, feeling the warmth building in your lower tummy.

He thrust into you sharply and a shrill cry rang out that you were sure echoed into the hallway. You nearly slammed your head into the desk with the force that your body jolted. The sensitivity was almost overwhelming and when you tried to scoot away again, he gave you another smack on the thigh.

"What did I say about running?" He let go of your hand to pull your thighs tighter around him as he drove into you with renewed vigor. His jaw clenched as he focused on your building pleasure. Thumb returned to your clit. Your mouth dropped open, but nothing came out but a strangled gasp. His thumb sped up between your thighs and you let out a string of slurred words as your hips shook.

"Fuck, I love you so much, oh God, oh God. I fucking love you."

"This is yours, now. It's all yours. Nobody else's." He breathlessly whispered against your cheek.

You reached down to grab his hand almost begging him for reprieve that you knew he wouldn't give you. You tightened around him and he sucked air sharply between his teeth, which only gave him more determination to push you over the edge. You pulled him down into a kiss just as the wave of pleasure crashed over you and you drowned your cry into his mouth. His strokes grew sloppy and erratic as you rolled your hips against him with equal force.

"Come on baby," you cooed to him, curling your fingers into his hair and giving it a sharp tug. He buried his head into your shoulder and let out a low, deep grunt as he came. You felt him press small kisses along your neck, trailing them up your chin and to your lips. After taking a minute to get his bearings, he reluctantly pulled out with a low shuddering breath. He kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

After some brief, very gentle aftercare, you helped each other get redressed, sharing kisses and touches along the way.

"So..." he leaned up against his desk, cleaning off his glasses to put them back on, "am I seeing you tomorrow?"

You gave him a slow, deep kiss and his hands traveled to your ass, "If I'm up all night revising with your stupid edits, we'll see how I feel. No guarantees, though."

[dykedvonte]

unfortunately this is yet another benny ask, considering you have such a good understanding of his character lol

what do you think would cause him to become interested in someone? not romantically - like genuinely interested, something for him to dissect and observe under a microscope. someone that intrigues him. other than them being a tool for him to use for his gain of course…

sorry if this is super vague but I Have My Reasons :-)

I think it would have to be a person he can't consistently get one over on.

In a more in-depth analysis, it would have to be a person who he can't figure out how their blind spots work. They don't fall for his charm but they also are cautious about his reputation. Someone who is overly combative towards him is too much of a hassle. He would definitely hang around a person who enables his behavior but a kiss-up would eventually and inevitably be thrown to the wayside when it becomes convenient. I don't believe he'd care for a jackass like him or a trouble maker but someone level-head and operates on a "pay no mind" sort of basis. I think Benny is sort of like an annoying friend who picks at you and he'd like a person who is resistant to the picking. You have to have a mystic to him but not coyness. It a delicate middle where you need to be grounded in reality.

You need to be independent really. Not a leader but sort of someone who forms their own opinions and isn't afraid to be openly contrarian. (Cause even Benny kinda is).

Benny is odd in canon cause other than having Swank and Tommy as his sorta right hands, he really doesn't mention someone who acts as a friend or companion to him. Even other named NPCs have people they care for on an interpersonal scale, in which Benny kind of obfuscates his relationship with others. We know who he values and is close to but not the specifics unlike other characters that will be honest about it.

I think he operates on the hypothetical "Ranked list of people who may betray me" in where he would never want you to know exactly what he feels/thinks about a person less those sentiments come to bite him in the ass.

[reginarubie]

Hi! Reverse Firesteel reader here!

Wow, finally Daenerys view has come!

It seems both Tyrion and Daenerys quite confident that her dragons can take on Vhagar. I mean, yeah it's 2:1. BUT THIS IS FREAKING VHAGAR.

A smaller dragon and a meaner rider — her own ancestor — had killed Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar already once. She would do it another time if he turned out to be real and against to her and she would ensure this time it stuck.

HELLO, even Caraxes was much bigger than any of Dany’s dragons. Not to mention that he was veteran of many battles as much as Vhagar.

Is it even possible on their size? How big are Drogon and Rhaegal right now?

And Daenerys is a descendant of Rhaenyra AND Daemon, so if she had learned her family's history, she can imagine how much Aemond would hate his half-sister and uncle. Is it truly wonder to her he didn't ask her hand?

I can't wait for Daenerys to finally meet Aemond.

Thank you for another fantastic chapter! You are my one of the best hotd fic writer!

Hi @ahristata

You raise fine arguments which we can make as omniscent, external readers/viewers.

Let's try to dissect it all.

What you say about Aemond is 100% right and whilst I believe Caraxes was smaller than Vhagar, he was bigger than Drogon but has Daenerys ever seen another dragon save her own?

Viserys was used to see the dragon's skulls in the throne hall, so if he lived to see Daenerys' dragons he would know how little they actually are if confronted with older dragons, but Daenerys doesn't have that term of paragon.

She might know Vhagar was very big, but she might be overestimating how big Drogon an Rhaegal actually are, she might think that two of them at that size — and growing bigger with each year as she said — could say their own against Vhagar who is bigger, but also older and perhaps slower.

It stands to reason, especially with how powerful the dragons have been physically and psycologically for her, that she would think to easily stand a good chance, especially as, to her knowledge she is the only Unburnt Targaryen in history. As s8 Tyrion put it, she walked into a fire and walked out alive and with three dragons she might also believe that the Iron throne isn't only her right but her destiny, as also displayed in her dragon dreams.

Plus, Daenerys is very young and inexperienced in the politics of the west; in the east her brute strength was good enough to make her the victor (and still she had trouble in Meereen where her rule the most faced resistance; and Yunkai' government she created imploded in the matter of months) and the Dothraki way good enough to get her what she wanted.

She has no recollection of how the Realm actually works, with its lords and feudal system beyond a theoretical knowledge. One good example is the mere fact that whilst she accepts (to which degree it remains to be seen) that her father was a madman she still believes that Viserys ought to have been crowned king and bases her right on Aerys' time as king.

We always say she's hypocrital and she is, but I don't think she is aware of how much of an hypocrit she is. Yes, her father was a madman, but he was still the king.

Yes, Viserys was unfit to rule, but he was still the rightful king.

She thinks she's better than both — and she is — but she also keep basing her birthright on them. Why? Because she doesn't understand that it was the lords who offered Robert the crown after he won the Rebellion; she doesn't accept that. She doesn't respect their choice to determinate themselves because she thinks like an autocrat; not like a queen who actually needs her lords/ladies allegiance to rightfully esercise her “birthright”. She believes to be an illuminated queen because she tries to play nice with opposition, though she really does not, and insetad just exercises her power thinking of all lords and ladies (nobles in the east) to be below them and that she is has been merciful to spare them, as if she doesn't understand that you cannot rule only over those who venerate you. The moment some of the nobles betray her, she punishes all of them.

All of this to say; yes theorically Daenerys knows Vhagar is bigger and battletested, but she also believes in her right and in her dreams and doesn't really understand — because she doesn't have the experience — what that entails, not only about dragonbattle but about the several reasons why Aemond could pose a better candidate and actually has a better chance to rule than her.

So, that's why Daenerys is so confident.

Now Tyrion... Tyrion is a smart man but he also famously can be incapabale of seeing beyond his point of view (which is why he keeps asking himself “where do whores go” pertaining Tysha even after Jaime came clean about it). So yes, he knows how big Vhagar is, he knows his history, but he also knows that Aemond and the Starks had yet to deploy the dragon so it stands to reason that the Stark' honor might keep a tight rein on the dragon.

Daenerys in the East to his knowledge has three dragons (perhaps two, but it's still more than one) and she has used them with little to none prompting, and he believes he might manipulate her better than he could outsmart Aemond and the Starks. Also, Tyrion too, might have read about dragonbattle but has never seen one, he cannot know the difference a saddle might make, or that Daenerys didn't educate herself on that matter.

Yes, Aemond hated Rhaenyra and Daemon, but Dany is not them — just like she's not her father, she might ask forgiveness for their sins but she's not guilty of them and should not be treated as such in her mind — and she is a fullblooded, trueborn Targaryen. In her mind it makes sense, she has two dragons and he one. In her mind the smart thing would be to join their forces.

Plus, never forget, Daenerys thought there might be out there in The world two men who would ride her dragons and whom she could trust — and whilst that's very optimistic — it also displays how she sees herself as the special woman between women, the other riders have to be men, because this way she can be Aegon the Conqueror come again, instead if there was even one woman she'd end up being the side-dish and not the main-course, the consort and not the regnant.

Seeing all of this, coupled with Viserion' death, and the news that this Aemond hasn't even reached out to her — like she was petulant about the nobles in Qart not poisoning her because she was not considered a powerful guest — but chose to marry instead this little girl with no dragon is unthinkable to her. It offende her.

It's gonna be fire when they meet, that's for sure!

Thank you for the lovely message, I hope you have an amazing day/night!

~G.

[ashtonisvibing]

"I dare you to..."

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Alternate Universe: None

Ship(s): Intrulogical

Character(s): Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

Warning(s): Dissection, mentions of cannibalism, possible actual cannibalism (depends how you look at it)

Originally Published: Nov. 15, 2023

Author's Notes:

wowowow, sanders sides! i've finally added them to my roster, wowie!

intrulogical fanfic cuz i love my favorite lab rat x mad scientist couple :}c

side note, the cannibalism tag is on a technicality... and also as a "just in case". you'll understand when you read, but if it doesn't ACTUALLY count as cannibalism please let me know!

also... i have no idea how a dissection works, only time i dissected something was during biology when we dissected rats, and i barely remember how we did that. but hey, i think a messy and improper dissection is perfect for these freaks (affectionate)

pronouns check:

logan - he/him

remus - he/it

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

Full Story:

The squelching of blood and organs mixed with Remus' mindless chatter was always a mix that Logan enjoyed during their "dates", if one could consider cutting into your boyfriend and dissecting him a date. The duke was talking about his most recent idea to prank Roman, arms gesturing around as he tried not to interfere with Logan's careful slicing of his skin. The last time he accidentally got in the way he nearly lost a finger. Not like he hadn't caused himself to lose more than just that before, placing his dismembered limbs around the Mindscape was a real treat when he heard Patton and Roman's terrified screams.

"So, what surprise do you have for today's escapade?" Logan interrupted his boyfriend's endless chatter, having made the incisions and waiting to get any sort of hint for what could be under the nearly deathly pale skin. It was always something new with their dates. One time the duke had replaced everything inside of his chest- bones, organs, even the veins and muscles and blood- with globs of clay. The nerd's first sign that something was amiss should have been the fact that no blood had surfaced when he inserted his scalpel into the skin.

Remus simply gave a chuckle as he looked up at Logan. "What, you really think I'm gonna tell that easily?" He then made an attempt at wiggling his upper body seductively. To anyone else it would look awkward, the laying position he was in certainly didn't help. For Logan and his visibly blue with blush cheeks it did the trick quite well. "C'mon Mr. Scientist, crack me open and rearrange my insides like you did last night~" And that blue blush was quick to become the nerd's blue face, to which Re cracked a smirk. It wasn't hard to fluster his boyfriend, he had learned how to make his innuendos obvious enough for Lo to understand while still being able to have fun with the wording.

Logan cleared his throat as he adjusted the goggles on his face; he insisted on wearing eye protection, just in case he was splattered with any sort of substance once again. "The difference here being that I may have to gag you this time if you keep speaking like that." Dating Remus certainly had its ups. The innuendos and suggestive flirting was something that had rubbed off on him. And the duke absolutely loved it.

"Aww, don't threaten me with a good time, sir~" Remus laughed. "'sides, I know you can't resist all the sounds I can make~"

"Do you want me to literally open you up or are we doing something else now?" The nerd hummed as he looked at the man below him. Admittedly he didn't want this date to switch over to anything else so quickly. While it might not be obvious to anyone else who didn't know him well enough, Lo was excited to see whatever surprise awaited him in the chest cavity he had created in Re. He didn't want to have to sew his boyfriend up without even getting to see anything. Remus was honestly the only one who knew Logan well enough to see that excitement in the other's almost midnight blue eyes. How could he possibly pull his boyfriend away from this just for some sex, especially when it was obvious that he wasn't in the mood.

The duke gave a smile as he set his hands on either side of his abdomen, as if he was presenting whatever was in there to the nerd. "Open me up, berry. Think you'll be surprised by this round." He chuckled softly.

On that command Logan grabbed a couple pairs of retractors to pull the skin flaps back and hold them in place. And what he saw in the cavity was... Quite normal. Heart, lungs, liver, nerves, everything seemed to be there. There wasn't any discoloration, no weird textures. Everything was as red and pink and fleshy as it all should be. Lo raised an eyebrow as he looked around for anything that could be out of place. Maybe bugs were about to start crawling out from who knows where? Maybe a strange creature would pop out Alien style? But nothing happened. "Is this it?" Logan finally asked as he looked at his boyfriend's face. He couldn't help the bit of disappointment in his voice, Re's strange antics were why he loved these dates.

Remus simply shrugged in response. "Eh, not feeling that creative today." Before the nerd could retaliate the duke kept speaking. "How 'bout we play some truth or dare while you look around in there?" He let out a giggle. Now Logan was even more confused.

"Truth or dare..??"

"Yeah!" Re's giggle turned into a laugh as he nodded, his hands shooting up into the air. "That's what can be different this time! Playing a fun game together! Please, berry?"

Logan could never resist when his boyfriend pulled those puppy eyes, they made him completely melt. How could he not when the other looked as cute as he did? So he gave a sigh and nodded, picking up a scalpel to begin his dissection. Might as well do something while they played truth or dare. "Alright, alright. Who's going to start?"

"I will, I will!" Remus continued to laugh as he clapped his hands over his head. "Truth or dare?"

The nerd took a second to think his choice over. "Truth."

"Is it true that you looooove me~?" Re's question was ended in a snicker as he looked up at his boyfriend, cheeks a slight green. He was rarely ever corny with his flirting, preferring to be more sexual and gross. But he had his moments when it was just the two of them. And those moments always managed to bring a smile to Lo's lips and a flutter to his heart.

"I wouldn't be dating you if I didn't love you, you rat." Logan chuckled softly as he not-at-all carefully broke off one of Re's ribs to get a better look at it. He was still convinced that he would find something unusual about the other's insides. It happened with every other dissection. Why was this time any different? "Truth or dare?"

"Hmmmmm... Dare. Gimme a good one, a real... Creepy one." Remus chuckled softly, his arms crossing behind his head to prop it up a little.

Logan set the rib on a separate table beside him, where he'd keep anything else he'd pull out. They'd be placed back inside his boyfriend later. "I dare you to pull your eyes out."

Re's response was to blow raspberries at the nerd before easily pulling his vibrant green eyes out of their sockets with a comical pop, a black ink-like substance now oozing from the holes. He didn't seem very pleased by this dare. "C'mon Lo, pulling my eyes out is the oldest trick in my book! I did this a couple'a days ago to put them in Virgin's soda! Should've seen the look on his face, if he was Patton he would've vomited right then and there!" He gave a triumphant laugh before putting his eyes back where they should be, and the black substance stopped dripping. "Shame he's got a stronger stomach, but he went even paler than even my skin!"

"Apologies, I would have given something more horrifying, but..." The nerd drew out his sentence as he cut and pulled out one of Remus' kidneys, showing it off to his boyfriend. "I'm occupied with something else, as you can tell." The pair shared a chuckle - from Logan - and a laugh - from Remus.

"It's fine, berry. Just try to gimme something better." The duke smiled, taking his own kidney from the other to hold it in his hand and get a closer look. "Ain't nothing too gross for the Duke of the Macabre!"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Logan chuckled again, taking a pause from his work to take one of Remus' hands into his own, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He couldn't help his smirk when he looked over at his boyfriend's face and saw the other's cheeks were a bright green. Some may think it hard to get the duke to blush and become flustered considering his crude and smutty way of flirting. Lo knew that all it took was gentle affection and the duke was putty in his hands. He just had to make sure no one else was around, but he was fine with keeping such moments private. It was his own precious secret.

The pair went back and forth with their little game for a while, the truths and dares getting more and more wild as the rounds went on. Until Logan asked for a dare, a shift from his truth preference, and Remus gave one

"Dare you to take a bite out of my intestine ya got there."

Sure enough, the nerd was holding his boyfriend's small intestine in his hands. The cavity was nearly empty by now. Only the heart, lungs, and small intestine having been left in. Logan did know that logically Remus would be able to survive without his heart and lungs, but he was still hesitant to take them out lest something go wrong this time.

The dare made him take quite a pause as it registered in his brain. He glanced at the organ in his hands, then at his boyfriend, then at the organ again. "Are you suggesting cannibalism?"

Remus gave a simple shrug in response, his eyes closed and arms once again crossed under his head. "Cannibalism, having a little snack, call it whatever ya want." He then snickered as his eyes opened to look at the other. "C'mon, don't chicken out now. No one else is here, they'll never know. We're technically not even real so, like, it's not really a crime, right? Don't gotta worry about infection, either! Promise I wash my insides every other day!" He then propped himself up by his elbows as best as he could so he could be closer to the other, those vibrant green eyes full of their usual mischief and chaos. "'sides, you're really gonna tell me you've never thought of it? What it might taste like? If it might gush with blood the moment you bite down into it, or how tender it might be. I'm not Janus but you can't lie to me. You're dating the Duke of the Macabre after all, you've gotta have some fucked up thoughts sometimes."

It honestly wouldn't be a lie to say that the thought had crossed Logan's mind a couple of times before. Of course Remus of all things had eaten human flesh before, mostly as a prank. Last Halloween he had tried to set out a bowl of assorted dismembered fingers and eyeballs and even tongues, and to try to prove his point that his bowl should stay among the actual candy, he pulled out one of the fingers and just ate it like it was a chicken leg. And while everyone else - save for Janus, the only other person besides Logan who was used to Re's antics - was utterly horrified, Lo couldn't help his thought of joining Remus to see just what it might taste like. Knowing the duke there was a chance that the bowl wasn't actually filled with body parts, only food made to look like such. But... Maybe they were. He now would never know, until now. He could satisfy his curiosity.

And so, after a surprisingly short think over, the nerd closed his eyes and bit into the intestine in his hands.

"... Blueberry-?" Logan spoke with the biteful still in his mouth, and with his eyes now opened he could see that... The intestine had turned blue, and had a gummy-like appearance to it. And sure enough when he started chewing, it was just like chewing a giant gummy worm. There was confusion written all over Lo's face that made Remus erupt with laughter.

"And that's the surprise! Gummy insides!" The duke sat up and reached over to the table where the assorted guts and bones sat, and all of those had turned into different colored gummies as well. He took a now orange stomach and bit into it with a happy smile. "Mmm, citrus... Think it might be grapefruit, can't quite tell." He shrugged before taking another bite, this time speaking with the candy in his mouth. "Figured I'd make this round more surprising by revealing it later." He swallowed his bite before continuing to speak. "Though I'm surprised, you didn't think over your dare that much before you took a good bite. Maybe you really are as fucked up as I am." He snickered.

Lo continued to stare at his boyfriend with that intended surprise before chuckling, hopping up onto the operating table. "Well, I am dating you after all." He took out the other end of the small intestine and handed it to Remus. "I'm sure I have to be... Fucked up, as you put it, to date you." Remus' smile grew more as he took the other end. Eating his gummified small intestine Lady and the Tramp style with his boyfriend wasn't a prediction for today, but it was certainly something he'd welcome with open arms.

"And that's why I love you, berry."

[xxkitty13]

Vampire AU pt. 2

Lawlu- Vampire Law x Human Luffy

Law still can’t resist the lubooty :v

Previous -> Part 1 Next -> Part 3

NSFW, slight gore (descriptions of body dissection)

The next following days were like torture to Law. The straw hat boy would not leave his side. He wonders if it was the bite mark. It has healed now, but the pheromone venom has merged with his DNA. This would attach the "victim" to its mate. However, Luffy's attachment is much. . . different.

"Oi, Torao!"

"Leave me alone."

Law is in his laboratory, dissecting a specimen as Luffy spins around in a wheeled chair.

"When will we have lunch? I'm hungry," he pouts.

Law continues to ignore him. Everywhere he goes, the human will follow as well. He can't even concentrate on his work. Luffy sees that the vampire is not responding. He goes to wrap his arms around him, tangling himself.

"Tsk, can't you see that I'm busy."

“But I’m starving,” he pouts again.

He looks over to see what Law is cutting open on the steel table. It fascinates him.

“Did you kill it?”

“Yes.”

He gasps. “Was he a human?”

“Maybe.”

“Why did you kill a human? Are you a murderer?”

Rolling his eyes, he answers his question. “He deserved it, he’s a piece of scum.”

Luffy wondered what the man did for the vampire to kill him. Law emits a good aura, so there must be a reason for his death. Not wanting to find out, he observes the opened cavity. Law proceeds to disembowel him and throws the wet intestines in a bucket. It grossed him out, almost ruining his appetite- almost.

“What’s the point of doing this?”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop; he continues to give him answers.

“Like I said before, I’m a surgeon. I continue my practice on human or animal cadavers. Whenever I see an opportunity to retrieve a specimen, I kill them. Fresh ones are ideal.”

He picks up the gall bladder and squishes it in his hand. “Sometimes I do it for fun.” He turns his gaze to Luffy, his lifeless eyes meet with his shinning ones.

The straw hat could feel the intensity in the room. He gulps, looking at the remaining tissue of the organ spill out the vampire’s tightened fist.

“Do you want to try?”

Luffy immediately shakes his head. This made him uneasy. Law scared him.

The vampire chuckles, amused at his reaction.

“Don’t worry mugiwara-ya, I won’t do this to you.”

He shakes what remained of the gall bladder and wraps the body up. The stretcher next the table is used to transfer what remained to the attached body. He transports the body to the freezer storage.

Law cleans the working station, with Luffy still wrapped around his body. He hums, rinsing the bloody mess with a hose. The water mixed blood drains to the floor. He picks the bucket filled with the intestines and takes it to the waste bin.

He removes the blood-stained gloves and throws them away. At the sink, he thoroughly washes his hands before flicking Luffy’s forehead.

“Ow.” He rubs his stinging forehead. “What was that for?”

“For bothering me.”

He proceeds to exit the laboratory and makes his way up to ground level.

“Why don’t you use your ability? It will take us to the kitchen faster.”

“This devil fruit power takes a lot of energy. It’s best that I walk.”

The human groans.

Enjoying the silence, Law walks to the kitchen. Luffy releases his stretched arms off of the vampire.

“Wait in the dinning room, I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” he grins, dashing away.

Luffy sits at the large dining table. The dark wood allows the red candles pop out. To the straw hat, the place is eerie and dreads of despair. It’s quite lonely, the darkness surrounding the castle adds to the solitary ambiance.

Lost in his trace of thoughts, Law appears with a cart filled with large trays.

“Eat up.” He places the food tray in front of Luffy and goes to sit at the opposite end of the table.

“Thank you!” Luffy beams with a smile before digging in. Law hides his small blush, watching the human enjoy the meal.

It amazed him. The appetite he holds is never ending. He liked seeing the human stuff himself till he reached his limit. His round form made him look cute. Something Law would not admit.

“Are you not going to eat?”

Law only hums in response. One of the reasons he gives Luffy so much food is to prepare him for his own feast. It wasn’t necessarily selfish as the human is required to eat in such quantities.

Luffy finishes his meal and becomes a round ball of flesh. The vampire laughs at his new figure.

“I never understand how that works.”

“I told you. I’m made of rubber. Everything stretches.”

Law gets up from his chair and rolls Luffy away from the dining room.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖౨ৎ.𖥔 ݁ ˖-`♡´-.𖥔 ݁ ˖౨ৎ.𖥔

Right before Law reached his destination, Luffy’s body returns to its normal size. The straw hat’s slim figure drops to the hard surface of the cold floor. Law goes to open the door in front of them and drags Luffy inside.

There he is met with the soft texture of carpet. The room lights turn on but leave a dim lighting. Inside the small room, a large round burgundy sofa is situated in the middle.

Law sits Luffy on the round furniture and removes his black coat, leaving it on a nearby chair. He walks to a closet and pulls out a box. He digs his hand inside and pulls out a studded collar.

As the vampire pulls out more items, Luffy stares at Law’s figure. His chest is fully exposed. More tattoos are revealed. The art intrigued the straw hat, his eyes trace each line over his toned abs.

Out of his peripheral vision, Law catches the human staring at his body. He smirks.

He walks up to him. “Show me your wrist.”

The straw hat obliges and feels rope tighten around his hands.

“Huh, what are you doing?”

“Binding you.”

With the rope in place, Law goes to get the collar.

“I’m not a dog. Don’t place that on me.”

The vampire ignores him and places the collar on his neck. He then proceeds to strip him of his clothes, the human trashes around.

“My hat!”

Luffy goes to kick him, but Law stops him, applying force to his grip.

“You don’t want to do that.” Red flashes from his eyes. The human stops, realizing what those eyes meant.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Luffy shakes, completely nude before the vampire.

Law crouches to his eye level and grins. “You’ve been pushing my buttons all week. It’s time I discipline you.”

He gulps. Law hovers over him and makes him bend over. With his back arched, Law kneels behind him, staring at his small hole. His index finger slides down the opening, making Luffy shiver in response.

“Have you felt this sensation before, mugiwara-ya?”

The straw hat shakes his head, his face red from the touch.

“Are you curious to find out?” He smirks.

Law licks his finger and traces the rim of the hole with his wet digit. Luffy nods his head at the feeling.

“Good.”

Enticing him, he gently sticks his index finger inside. The warm flesh eagerly engulfs him. Luffy grunts at the foreign sensation inside of him. Law adds another finger, stretching him out some more.

“If I remember correctly, everything is able to stretch.”

The human eyes meet with Law’s dark ones. His red orbs frighten him.

A sudden cold object is felt at this entrance. The pointy thing is submerged inside of him.

"Torao!" he screeches. The coldness invades his body, stretching his walls as it enters. "I- I don't like how it feels."

With a single push, Law forces the butt plug in Luffy. He cries out, not necessarily from pain. Luffy looks back at the vampire with teary eyes, resting his face on his tied hands.

Law flicks the heart gem, letting the human hitch at the vibration.

"This will get you ready," he mumbles.

He smacks his ass, leaving a stinging print on his right cheek. The human yelps, confused at the violent actions of the vampire. He intently watches him, seeing a grin plaster on the vampire's face before moving away. Law stands before him nude, eyeing him down with hunger.

“Before I continue, I want you to beg for it.”

Law whips out his throbbing member. It stands tall, filled with blood, ready to feel Luffy’s walls engulf it in its moist warmth. He strokes his erection, wanting nothing more than to fill his insides.

Letting go of his cock, he flips Luffy onto his back and hovers over him. With one hand, he pins the tied limbs over the human's head.

"Mugiwara-ya, are you afraid?" he whispers in his ear, licking the pinna.

Unsure what to think, Luffy only gulps. Law chuckles sinisterly, nibbling on his earlobe. "You should be."

His tongue trails down his neck. Right over his jugular. His sharp canines rub against the soft skin. He can hear the blood pump through his blood vessels. The sound is lovely. The vampire sucks on the semi-salty skin, barely digging his teeth through. He leaves a nasty hickey and attacks another part of neck to leave his love marks.

Law sits up, his eyes gaze to Luffy's own erection.

"Cute."

His hand grabs the member, squeezing on it gently.

"T-torao-" he mewls.

He lets go of it, leaving Luffy intrigued of the new feeling. Law's head travels down his legs, kissing the tender thighs. His tongue licks the warm skin, making the human shiver.

He bites down on his left thigh, the blood drips down the leg. The vampire bites the other thigh and gently laps on the punctures. Luffy winces at each bite mark, feeling his blood ooze out.

The vampire licks the red liquid from his lips. He gives the human a toothy smile, his canines stained with blood.

“I want to taste more of you. Will you let me, mugiwara-ya?”

He goes down on him, caressing his balls. His tongue drags from the base of the shaft to the tip, running purposely over the slit. Luffy whimpers.

"W-what are you doing to me Torao? I- I don't know if I like it. . ."

Law chuckles softly at the words. "Oh, you're going to love it."

Excitedly, he takes Luffy's dick in his mouth.

"T-torao, what are you doing-"

He's careful not to cut him with his teeth as he bobs down on the shaft. The human brings his tied hands to grab Law's head, but the vampire looked at him with dark eyes. Luffy stops and rest his hands below his abdomen.

Law sucks on him faster, twirling his tongue over the sensitive tip. Luffy lets out soft moans, enjoying the slick tongue over his dick. Before Law could continue, a shot of hot cum is disposed in his mouth. He swallows all of it.

"That was quick. . ." He looks at the panting human. "Did you like that?"

Luffy nods, his rosy cheeks showing in the dim light.

"Well, it's not over yet."

Eager to begin the main event, his hard cock is placed over the human's soft one. He removes the butt plug from his hole and throws it across the room.

"We won't be needing that anymore."

He strokes himself a few times before he guides the tip of his member over the prepped hole. Now it begins, he pushed the tip through the entrance, slowly guiding himself inside. He already feels the warm walls tighten around him. He groans at the constriction.

"T-there's no way I can take that." Luffy pants out.

"You're made of rubber, remember? Everything stretches," he laughs quietly.

The vampire pushes in deeper, despite the plug, his insides are still tight. He does not complain, the sensation is blissful. It did not take long for his cock to enter completely. He hovers over the human, his forehead connected to his. The two lock eyes.

"I'm going to ruin you."

He winds back and thrusts with great force. Luffy arches his back at the sudden movement. It is slow, but painful. To Law, the clenching warmth felt amazing. He continues to pound his ass, picking up the pace as he goes.

"T-torao, sl-slow down."

"Huh? Go faster? Your wish is granted."

His hand wraps around his neck, squeezing with enough force, and begins to penetrate him deeply. Law huffs and puffs, letting himself go inside of Luffy. Each slap sounds off the room, combining with the sound emitting from their mouths.

The human starts to feel a certain spot ignite with pleasure. The vampire's hard dick hits his spot just right. He cannot contain his voice and becomes a moaning mess.

Luffy opens his teary eyes to see Law's bloodlust ones. The pressure on his neck, contained him down. His vision foggy from the overstimulation.

"T-torao," he barely makes out.

Law goes to his ears, grunting loudly next to him.

"S-say my name."

"T-torao. . ."

The grip on Luffy's neck tighten. "Say my name."

"T-"

Law squeezes harder. "Say it."

"L-Law!" Luffy moans out, panting in distress.

Law smiles. "Good boy." His grip on the neck loosens as he picks Luffy from the sofa.

Using his knees, he sits on the soft padding and fucks Luffy in his arms. In the new position, he's able to go deeper inside. "Fuck," he moans out, penetrating him harder.

He bites the human shoulder, feasting on his sweet blood. All Luffy could do is scream out from pleasure and agony. With his hands still tied, his arms laid between them awkwardly. He uses the little strength he has to break free. Luffy wraps his arms around the vampire's torso, holding on for support. Law bucks against him, making Luffy bounce up and down.

"L-law, it feels so good. . ." Luffy lays at the crook of neck. Salvia drools down his collarbone, hazy at the immense sensation.

It began to be too much for the vampire, the helpless whimper of the human is music to his ears. His core tightens and thrusts at an ungodly rate, his throbbing cock ready to bust. A wave of great pleasure is released from his member, the awaiting load leashing inside of Luffy.

He lets Luffy ride his orgasm out and the human came soon after. The cum splatters over their chest, the heat brings shivers to his spine.

Law lays Luffy down on the sofa and embraces him. He licks the bite mark on his shoulder, consuming the blood that remained. The human trembles in his arms, his body still processing the brutal pounding. Law pecks his temple and intertwines their hands.

"Are you okay, mugiwara-ya?"

Luffy nods, burying his face onto his chest. Law only chuckles at his response and holds him close. This warm hug is perfect, a feeling he has been longing for.

"Luffy.”

The human looks up at the vampire.

"I want to hold you forever."

He giggles, letting his arms wrap around Law. They snuggle each other and drift to sleep, drained from their hot session.

[denimbex1986]

''They're both so baby girl,’ the caption on a TikTok video of Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott nearing 200,000 likes reads.

The 23-second clip features both men on the All Of Us Strangers press tour, wherein they dissect the modern cultural lexicon of Generation Z, such as ‘girl dinner,’ and ‘Roman Empire’.

"Paul Mescal is my Roman Empire," Scott says as his co-star laughs coyly. From six seconds in, the conversation pivots to ‘baby girl,’ a term of endearment popularised by TikTok culture, defined by Rolling Stone as: "A man who is very cutesy in a slightly submissive way"...

Both men laugh at the concept, before Mescal, in a cropped cardigan, relays to Scott that it means 'cute'. Scott replies: "Do you think I’m mommy in real life?"

The term’s usage, and indeed both Mescal and Scott’s gentle appreciation of same, are indicative of the pivot Irish men in the public arena have taken towards the hottest trend of the 21st century––femininity. Some would argue that this is nothing new.

From Bowie to Beckham to Rodman to Cobain, men in the public eye have regularly resisted the trappings of toxic masculinity, opting instead to openly play with gender by way of frothy hemlines or pastel linens. But never before has this sartorial and cultural androgyny felt accessible to Irish men, a breed whose actors were generally relegated to rugged, insensitive, and often boorish roles.

Now that they are––or at least now that Irish men have modern effeminate men to model themselves on––it begs the question for us all: have Irish men embraced femininity? And if so, why has it taken so long?

Irish actors have long made significant contributions to Hollywood, from Maureen O’Hara to Brendan Gleeson to Saoirse Ronan to Cillian Murphy. However, for the longest time, male Irish actors were largely cast in rugged, Martin McDonagh-adjacent roles...

Today, it seems another shift is afoot: that Irish men––with the bashful modesty we're unused to with movie stars, and their tendency towards the mysterious (neither Scott, Mescal nor Murphy have public social media accounts)––are approachable, desirable and sensitive enough to be considered leading men...

...Generation Z have made efforts to disassemble toxic masculinity. By celebrating men who lean into qualities typically associated with women––sensitivity, empathy, care, kindness––those presently younger than 30 years of age caused the hypermasculinity wave that reigned in the early 2020s to fall flat...

With hypermasculinity no longer being presented as a plus, the desire to be around a man whose greatest strength is his personality grew in popularity...

While this still can't be said for every Irish man, the fact that some of our most popular stars have stepped away from traditional masculine marketing is a comforting, hopeful sign. As such, a welcome positive masculinity is born. (Indeed, as I type this in a Dublin café, two teenage boys with grey tracksuits and pearl necklaces just stepped into frame.)

Enter, Hollywood. A bonafide dream factory intent on giving the people what they want. Which, if any magazine photoshoot with Irish actors of late will tell you, it’s Paul Mescal in thigh-high boots, Barry Keoghan in woman’s tailoring, Cillian Murphy in silk neckties, or indeed any well-known Irish man in the trappings of a 19th-century dandy...

The good thing is, however, that walls have been broken with this new movement, and Irish men––or indeed, any man––can finally feel free enough to explore themselves through art, fashion or laughter-filled conversation about TikTok terminology.

That, I think anyone can agree, is so babygirl.'

[lingy910y]

Gallavich Questionnaire

Thank you @energievie for tagging me to do this! I get too unhinged when talking about these two boys, so warning for very elaborate ramblings 🙏

1. What’s a fic you’ve read more than once?

This fic is the prime example of why you should write a fic even if you think nobody’s going to read it, because it’s my favorite gallavich fic even though most people don’t want to read about them getting a divorce. But I do, okay, because a normal break-up doesn’t cut it (especially since we already see those in canon, but post-canon is up to our interpretation) and it’s just more serious. I think they will work out their issues before it gets too far in canon but it just hurts so fucking good. The reason for their divorce is so realistic too, in fact it’s not one but a lot of problems piled on top of each other. They think it’s only going to hurt everyone involved including their children, which is arguably true in context, but they can’t resist each other and it’s this back and forth push. There’s parallels to canon, the writing is so good without being drawn out, and there’s so much nuance, emotion, and subtly hinting at something beneath the surface. The pining is just delicious because it’s not “I don’t know if you feel this way about me” or “I’m not allowed to be with you,” it’s “I want to be with you so badly but I’m trying to resist that because it’s going to hurt everyone.” Then the trying so hard not to care because “we’re over, but you’re in trouble and I’m trying to move on and I’m never going to love someone else like I love you” 😭😭😭 anyway I actually had to stop myself from rereading too often for comfort because it was too much LOL

the author said they were going to update it January of this year so I’ll be patiently waiting 😔

3. What's a headcanon you can't stop thinking about?

You know that post abt how when you're sleepy you imagine your favs sleepy? I keep imagining Ian wrapping their comforter around Mickey like a cocoon when he has a nightmare and cuddling him, it's cute

4. What's a fanart you love looking at?

The first image of this by @gallavichonly JUST GETS ME SO FERAL. THEIR FUCKING EXPRESSIONS.

5. What’s an idea you’d love to create if you had the time/inspiration?

I want to draw a character concept art sheet for their outfits/weapons/mechanics for kinda a zombie apocalypse AU. Designing that sounds fun but I need to research more

6. What’s something you’ve discovered since entering this fandom? A new trope you love? A different analysis of the show? Something else?

The jealousy trope, especially jealous Mickey. I guess in other fandoms, people write jealousy in a really possessive, cringy way. Not saying gallavich aren't possessive as fuck but at least they earned it, you know? There's too many ships where one of them is breathing down the other person's love interest's neck but they don't even know you exist, like calm down 😭 Meanwhile gallavich tease and try to get each other to admit it first, and Mickey is biting his tongue trying not to say anything and then "Fucking cheat on me, Ian?!", "Whatcha doin' here then?" AND THEIR EXPRESSIONS WHEN THEY EACH SAY "WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW" ARUGHHHHHH I'M SO GONE

7. What’s an underrated trope or concept you’d like to see more of?

Touched on this earlier but basically the more tragic/gritty ones—a huge argument, break-ups, unrequited love, falling out of love, hanahaki, amnesia, MCD...

10. What scene or moment do you feel isn’t discussed enough?

Eh I think we've dissected the shit out of every scene lmao, but probably their s4 reunion? The lap dance?

11. What line/dialogue/description from something else (a poem, a book, a tv show, a movie, or something else) do you feel describes Ian and Mickey’s relationship?

Obviously "I'll take care of you. / It's rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it's you."

12. What do you think is next for Ian and Mickey post-finale?

I want Ian to go back to being an EMT no matter what :( but their current security gig fits Mickey a lot. Ian also gets really into gardening, he'll be so good to the point where he'll be known in the neighborhood. And Mickey has a little hobby for drawing. They'll adopt a pitbull because Mickey was actually enthusiastic about that idea, which meets Ian halfway by still giving him something to take care of. Now for the elephant in the room: I think it's okay if Mickey never wants a kid, and there's a lot of issues ingrained in them that unless they go to therapy for a couple of years, hinder them from becoming perfect parents tbh. Now I'm not saying they'll be bad, but will their best be enough? Will they be content? Idk, I don't have any experience and I see them with more issues/flaws than the majority of the fandom? Honestly I just don't see that future for them (but I do enjoy kid AUs because who doesn't.) They'll stay on the West Side because I want them to get out but not stray too far from their family. I also can't think about them getting old or I'll sob, but I wrote a fic about how they'll retire and just live comfortably because it's what they deserve, and they'll take tons of vacations when they save up enough money.

oh my god that was way too much but in my defense i rarely get to rant abt them ok!! anyway now that I went through the whole spectrum of emotions, i'm tagging @michellemisfit, @lupeloto, @jademickian & @softmick 🚶‍♀️

[direwombat]

💭 pleeeease syb thoughts and opinions on jessie:3

alfjasdfl;k doing first impressions and then a mid-reaping thought because i can't resist

first impression

Sybille is immediately intrigued by anyone who wasn't in the service who prefers to be referred to by their surname. Rook is new to the sheriff's department -- had only been there a few weeks before Sybille had shaken Earl's hand and accepted the job offer.

Rook smacks loudly away at her gum and her eyes raise as Sybille exits Earl's office and enters the bullpen. She kicks her chair into a spin to swivel towards her as she passes. "Hired on the spot, huh?" She pulls an exaggerated grimace when Sybille nods. "Eesh. Red flag."

Sybille cocks a brow. "That a commentary on the department or an assessment of me?"

Rook twirls her ponytail around her finger and gives a half-hearted shrug. She then blows a bubble that's nearly the size of her head. When it pops, she looks surprised to find Sybille still standing at her desk, awaiting an answer. But instead of giving her one, she changes the subject. "You fish?"

Childish is the first thing that comes to Sybille's mind to describe her. Followed immediately by evasive. She's struck with the urge to dissect her and figure out what makes her tick. She quirks a smile. "Worked on a boat for a while down in New Orleans. Know any good spots?"

most recent thought

Every muscle in Sybille's body aches. She has no idea how much time has passed since Jacob's Chosen got the drop on her. All she knows is that she spent longer than usual in the Red Place and had to claw her way out from underneath a pile of corpses. She hadn't even bothered washing. She just shambled her way from the mountains back into the valley because jesus fucking christ, she needs a drink.

Mary May has a shot glass full of whiskey with the bottle set beside it before she even makes it to the counter. She downs it and sits on one of the bar stools. The loud creak that sounds in the empty bar is either from the wood or her bones and she's not entirely sure which.

With a sympathetic smile and gentle tap of her hand against the counter, Mary May says, "Just holler if you need anythin'."

Sybille grunts and nods, not bothering with the shot glass and drinking straight from the bottle.

Her peace and quiet doesn't last much longer than ten minutes. The door to the Spread Eagle slams open, followed immediately by an all too familiar nasally and grating voice. "Hey, Mary May I need more -- holy fuck, Syb you look like shit!"

Both Sybille and Mary May let out a prolonged exasperated groan.

[braintapes]

There's something about our pattern-seeking, problem-solving driven brains that's so conducive to a particular kind of madness, right? I'm so utterly fascinated by stories where people try so damn hard to analyze, to quantify and make meaning of something that is inherently inscrutable. Yet still they try and try and break themselves upon that which resists understanding. I think that's why I like The Northern Caves so much, it really captures that feeling (man i need to finish rereading it at some point).

It's also kinda like how people end up down conspiracy rabbit holes. It's always about feeling like you understand the world. Not just bits and pieces of it, but the whole thing. It's so comforting to think that you've got it all figured out. That everything in existence operates under and in service of a specific set of principles, and once you Know them, you're all good! Everything makes sense! There's no need to worry!

Because we want to Know so bad. We have to Know. Knowing means information means creating means solving problems means living, means surviving, etc. To accept that there's so, SO unfathomably much in the world we don't, can't Know....To accept that the universe is vast and chaotic and we are only tiny animals with physical brains that can only understand a miniscule percentage of it all...That's horrifying! That's shattering!

If everything you thought you Knew, everything you based your entire sense of self, reasoning, logic, etc on, amounted to arbitrary lines in the sand...Then what does that mean for you? Your who and your what and your when and why and everything?

And even when it comes to things we do know, it can get so so messy. Organizational systems and taxonomy fascinate me partly because, ah, I don't understand them very much at all. And that part of me wonders...how closely can you look at something, stare at it, try to sort it out in your brain, before the distinctions between this and that become meaningless? How minutely can we dissect something and name its parts and how they interact and explain every complexity before it all becomes just too much?

I just find that all so fascinating to think about.

[chronurgy]

those act 1 asks for ur durge as requested!!! 2, 17, 19, 23, 27, 44 (i hope this isnt too many questions) -@veilkeeper

@veilkeeper Ahhh I'm so excited to talk about Vesper it's definitely not too many questions!!

Just to give some background, my current character is a custom dark urge, a half-drow divination wizard named Vesper.

2 - Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character?

Yes actually. I always imagined Vesper as very androgenous which doesn't really translate well in the character creator since you can't play with face shape (I will say that their face has grown on me though). After learning that Kressa Bonedaughter was out there taking them apart on the reg I imagine they also have some intense scarring on their chest and abdomen. I actually gave them the large over the eye scar before I learned about Orin's attack, so I like to imagine that's where that came from.

17 - What does your Character think of Withers?

Sticking with just stuff from act 1, Vesper desperately wants to dissect Withers to find out what his whole deal is, they are just insanely curious (and have big slightly unethical wizard energy - this is one way I sort of imagine the Bhaalspawn thing creeping in even as they try to resist the urge). After he refuses to bring back Alfira this gets a little more intense, but they're also very afraid of him as well, since he seems to know what's going on with them but won't say. It ends up in this swirl of gratefulness that he helps their companions/ugly desire to pull him apart and see what makes him tick/resentment at him for not helping Alfira/fear at what he might know (because they're starting to get the sense that something is wrong with them and that they weren't a great person before). It's a wildly complex swirl of emotions that starts to change only when they meet Arabella in the shadowlands in act 2.

19 - Did your Character spend a night with a companion either the night of the party or earlier? Is it someone they have a continued interest in?

They spent the night of the party with Gale. A fellow wizard who loves magic like they do? Of course they were into him. Even though not a lot happened that night they're still hopeful since he seemed flattered by the attention and interested in turn (though the orb is complaining things at the moment). With Elminster's visit at the end of act 1, they're also just very concerned about him and his plans/state of mind, though that will really come into force in act 2.

23 - What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor?

Oh man. So since I went into this mostly blind I really didn't know much about the dark urge's backstory or the dream visitor. The original version of Vesper's dream visitor was another half-drow, since half-drow really seem to get it from all sides (the drow don't like them for not being drow enough, all the non-drow races seem to think they're too drow to be trusted) so I thought that would be a good dream guardian, and then made them basically way more beautiful (so someone Vesper could find both desirable and desirable-to-be) and possibly able to pass as a regular half-elf (again to add to the better and more desirable version of me feeling). So Vesper has this person who they very much want to trust (and be and love) but who they are ultimately very suspicious of because, yknow, everyone is talking about the dream visitor and this all started when they got their tadpole, so... Ultimately I think they really really want to trust them but are too suspicious in nature to really do so. I do think that intense desire to trust does sometimes sway them in the dream visitor's favor though.

Now that I've seen more of the dark urge's backstory though, I think my new vision for their dream visitor is actually a half-drow version of Gortash. That way I get to keep a lot of the stuff I outlined above but also get the delicious agony of them being drawn so strongly to this visitor for reasons they don't quite understand to just amp up all those emotions even higher and further intensify the conflict between their rational intelligent side (they're a wizard, they have 20 int) and this desperate emotional side.

27 - Who ended up in your Character's most used party?

Gale and Astarion were pretty much always in my party, Gale because I was planning on doing his romance and I like having a second caster for more coverage and Astarion because I needed a lockpicker (plus I love that sneak attack damage). The third spot was a little more variable, but was usually either Karlach or Shadowheart to round out the party, either because I needed healing or a good frontliner, or sometimes whoever I thought was most fun at the moment. (Yes my party comp is insane and unbalanced, no it doesn't get better in later acts lol)

44 - Blogger's choice - 37 - Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it?

So they did find the Necromancy of Thay, and they read it successfully. They knew they were going to read it as soon as they got their hands on it, damn all the warnings everyone else was giving. This actually kinda endeared Gale to them because he was the exact same way, even if he was kinda upset that he didn't get to read the book.

Thank you so much for the questions this was so much fun!

[lyricshyric]

The Subjectivity of Music: Is There Such a Thing as an Objectively 'Bad' Song?

https://theconversation.com/is-there-such-a-thing-as-an-objectively-bad-song-98960

Music, a boundless realm of emotions and expression, has been a source of endless debates and discussions. One of the most intriguing questions that resurfaces time and again is whether there exists an objectively 'bad' song. This blog post aims to dissect the arguments presented in a thought-provoking article and explore the depths of musical subjectivity.

The Notorious "Achy Breaky Heart":

Our journey begins with the infamous "Achy Breaky Heart" by Billy Ray Cyrus. In a 2005 study, it was crowned the "worst song ever" by many participants. Their reasons ranged from cringe-worthy lyrics to an overly simplistic melody and negative personal associations. However, what's truly fascinating is that respondents struggled to articulate a reasoned, rational analysis of their intense aversion. This underscores the subjective nature of our musical preferences. What one person despises, another might secretly enjoy.

Seeking Objectivity in Music:

In some facets of life, objectivity reigns supreme. In sports, the team with more goals wins, and in finances, the mortgage with the lower interest rate prevails. Nevertheless, when it comes to music, objectivity often eludes us. Although some assert that machine learning can predict a song's success based on past chart performances and acoustic characteristics, the results remain mixed. Hit songs frequently defy the very characteristics that should predict their success.

The Multifaceted Nature of Musical Taste:

Music is an intricate art form that transcends mere lyrics, melody, or rhythm. It encompasses emotions, moods, and context. Different songs serve different purposes and resonate with us in unique ways. The tune that propels you through the morning commute might not be the same one that induces weekend revelry. This highlights that while specific characteristics may render a song suitable for a particular situation, they don't inherently make it universally "good" or "bad."

The Influence of Personal Connection:

Perhaps at the core of this debate lies the potent connection we forge with music. Exceptional songs, it appears, are those that transcend their intended purpose and etch themselves into our hearts. Think of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." When performed masterfully, it possesses the power to metamorphose us, to make us fall head over heels for it. Conversely, "bad" songs might not merely leave us indifferent; they can actively vex us.

Ultimately, I believe that the question of whether objectively "bad" songs exist remains a conundrum. Music, with its diverse genres, influences, and interpretations, resists neat categorization. What is undeniable, however, is that our musical tastes are intensely personal, molded by our experiences, emotions, and individuality. While a definitive answer to this question may forever elude us, the beauty of music lies in its ability to stir our souls, spark conversations, and perpetually fascinate us. Whether you're tapping your foot to a catchy tune or grimacing at a melody you can't abide, remember that the enchantment of music resides in the ears of the listener.