#i like to call this a classic college tale of

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 20: Threesome

Summary: You're good with kids, there is no doubt. Heck, you're a kindergarten teacher, you love little ones. Your boyfriends on the other hand, just love how great you are with kids. Maybe it's time to give you one of your own. Warnings: P in V sex, threesome, breeding kink, cum, reader had a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @cassandrascottt

You stood at the front of the classroom, laughter mingling with the excited chatter of the students. The vibrant walls were filled with painted art projects, and the scent of crayons and fresh paper lingered in the air. Today’s lesson was all about storytelling, and you had encouraged the kids to use their imaginations, their faces lighting up with every new idea. From being a superhero, a princess, or a dragon, your student’s ideas never failed to excite you. 

As the bell rang, the students began to gather their things, and you smiled, waving them off. “Remember, tomorrow is our storytelling contest! Bring your best tales but make sure they are written in your scrapbook!” The children cheered and scrambled out, their giggles echoing in the hall. The day had ended and while a satisfying one, you couldn’t wait to get back home and snuggle up to some warm food with your boyfriends. Yes, Wade Wilson and Logan were an odd pair by themselves but adding you into the mix seemed to make it all the sweeter (or hornier if you asked Wade). 

Outside, you spotted Wade and Logan leaning against the school’s brick wall. Wade, in a red graphic tee and a pair of black jeans, was animatedly gesturing as he spoke, while Logan, in his classic flannel and jblue eans, looked not as amused, arms crossed over his chest. Your heart swelled, it was moments like this—seeing the two of them together—that reminded you of how unique their relationship was.

“Hey, beautiful!” Wade called out, his voice playful. “How many lives did you ruin today with your educational superpowers?”

Laughing with an eye roll, you replied while approaching the duo. “Just a few. No one will need intensive therapy after my storytelling lesson!”

Logan pushed off the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re doing just fine. Kids need someone who gets them.” He stepped closer, his presence grounding and warm.

As you walked to the car, Wade pretended to swoon dramatically. “Oh, I’m hot for teacher! So captivating! Did you see how the kids hung on your every word? I was this close to signing up for kindergarten myself!” He pinched his fingers dramatically, as if to show just how close he was to sitting in on your class. It would certaintly be interesting.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d probably scare them off with your face, bub”

A slow blush creeped up your cheeks as Logan opened the car door for you. “You both are ridiculous,” you tried to sound agitated, putting on your best teacher voice, but a shy smile betrayed your amuesment. “But it’s sweet. I’m glad you think I’m good with the kids.”

That caught their attention. They had certaintly talked about it before but now hearing the idea aloud, how good you were with kids thta weren’t even your own, now that sparked an idea. With a quick glance to each other, no words were needed to form the plan that was about to commence. Allowing the thoughts to stew on the ride home, you had no idea of their plan when you entered your shared apartment. Of course, it was messy but the boys had allowed you to decorate it; making it seem less like a college frat dorm room and more like a home. And if their plan came to fruition, it certainy would be a home indeed. 

Suddenly, Logan grabbed yours wrists and pinned you down against the nearest wall. His smoldering gaze glowered down at you as his face leaned down to whisper in huskily in your ear. 

“What do you think about having some kits of your own?” 

“What?” 

Coming to your side, Wade joined his partner in looking down at you. Using his hand to reach around and cup your chin, he brought your shocked gaze to look up at him.

“Dollface, I think peanut here is asking to breed you. And I am certainly not opposed to the idea. I mean I am sure a hundred Tumblr fics have been written about it already—” 

A dark chuckle erupted from Logans throat at Wade’s words, for once he wasn’t annoyed at the merc’s mouth.  As he stood up and let his grip go, both men now stared down at you. After some stumbling and a few apologies to about tripping over variois objects, all three parties ended up in the master bedroom with clothes on the floor. You, laid on the bed and the boy’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of your bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen. 

Wade leaned down and took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging his hands across your torso, he slowly marked your skin with his hands. Logan, instead dipped down and spread your thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his calloused hands. With a whimper, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch as he dragged his nose across your slit. The heat from his breath left you soaked with desire, cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the things that were about to happen. 

Hoisting your legs up on his shoulders, Logan massaged the tip of his cock against you hole. Not allowed a moment of reprieve, sheathing his heady member into your cunt with one stroke, Wade then bit the corner of your collarbone to distract you from Logan’s actions. He stretched your needy hole,  both of your moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved.  You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezing Logan so tight that with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt, the ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. Wade took initative and slowly started to leave hot wet kisses and nips across the valley of your neck, only pausing to whisper filthy things in your ear as Logan carried out a relentless pace. 

“He’s gonna fuck you so good baby. Think about how good you’ll look, so big and glowing with our baby inside you. You’re gonna be such a good momma. Want us to make you a momma dollface?"

Gosh, he was so hot like this. You hung onto everyword, every image you presented you with. It was addicting, the feeling of Logan inside you, the softness of Wade’s lips worshiping your body as he debauched words continued to send wave after wave of arousal shooting straight down to your already weeping pussy. And you knew it may never happen, you were still on the pill and by all means Wade was infertile with Logan’s ability to breed in question since he was older. 

But by any means, you could certaintly get used to this. 

[macfrog]

2003: a dbf odyssey

a @chloeangelic x @macfrog fic

greetings greetings one and all. welcome to the fucking circus. chloe cupcake and i have a gift for you. we put our heads together, took turns writing a classic dbf fic, and here is the hellscape we created. please enjoy. [this is entirely satirical and just for funsies. no harm intended. no tw discourse required. love u]

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. and that's all we have to say on that

warnings: unspecified age gap, tale set in 2003, female masturbation, creepy joel, praise kink, size kink, fingering, unprotected piv, degradation, angst!

word count: 4.6k

chloe's masterlist | max's masterlist

The sun shines through the window of your childhood bedroom. You’re still reeling from an argument you just had with your mom, over the degree you just spent four years and fifteen grand on. She doesn't understand your passion for fossils, she never has, and during every family function, only one person asks you how school is going. 

Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.

He’s tall. Broad. He’s built like a Dorito. Flamin’ Hot Cool Ranch. He drives a truck and he listens to dad rock. One time you saw him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You asked what that was, and he said it was a band from “before your time, darlin’”. You swooned at the pet name. 

He’s quiet and unassuming. Lingers on the outskirts of every gathering your parents throw. He likes to talk about construction, and wood carving, and little else. At least, that’s what you thought, before you came back home after graduating. 

Suddenly, he started glancing in your direction every time you came into the room wearing a tight little top with significant cleavage. He would clear his throat at dinner and wipe a bead of his sweat from his forehead at BBQs. 

You always called him Mr Miller, and ever since graduation, that name made him blush. Last Thanksgiving, when his family was over for dinner at your parents’ house, you started asking him about old movies, and he grumbled, then told you about 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

He said he couldn’t believe that a girl with a paleontology degree had never seen A Space Odyssey before. Promised he’d show you it sometime. ”Smart girl like you will love it,” he said. 

You had opened your mouth to respond, to lend him the quirkiest retort you could think of, when your dad had bumbled into the room, shoving you out of the way. He brought up the latest Austin Ice Bats game, took Joel up in a conversation you couldn’t be a part of - you knew nothing about minor league ice hockey. 

Your mom called you through to the kitchen and asked you to help her with dinner. When you came into the kitchen, she started asking you if you’d gone on any dates recently, if there were any cute guys in your college classes. 

You rolled your eyes, “No, mom, none of them are my type.” 

She huffed while handing you a pot of mashed potatoes, “What’s your type then?” 

You didn’t want to tell her that your type was older men. Really old, in their fifties. Your type was Joel, but you couldn’t tell her that. Instead, you described what you thought Joel might’ve looked like when he was younger. “Brown hair, beards maybe,” you said, and turned on your heel before walking into the dining room and setting the pot on the table. 

You glanced over the place settings. Your mom had already put down everyone’s drinks. Yours and Sarah’s - a glass of water each. She says water helps with clear skin. Her own - a white Russian cocktail. And your dad and Joel’s, side by side - two beers, dripping with condensation. You paced around the table, formulating a plan. 

As your mom’s voice drew nearer down the hallway, you quickly switched Joel’s beer for Sarah’s water, sitting him next to you.

When he came into the dining room with your father, you noticed that Joel was looking at you with dark, sultry eyes. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he sat down in his chair, then turned to your mother, “Looks great.” You felt his knee knock into yours under the table, but he didn’t move away. Heat pooled in your stomach. Your chest tightened, threatening to burst from the confines of your tight t-shirt.

The same t-shirt you’re wearing right now - sat at the end of your bed. Remembering the way his denim jeans felt on your bare leg. You lie back on your sheets and stare at the ceiling, thinking of his swollen muscles under his flannel shirt. The tuft of chest hair sprouting from over the collar. The veins in his hands as he passed you the salt. 

You were holding a pair of jeans in your hands, about to slide them over your legs when you looked down to see a wet spot in your panties, and now you can’t ignore the throbbing in your core at the thought of seeing him again. 

You carefully trace your fingers over your panties, grazing the wet spot, feeling your cheeks burning from the awareness that it’s your dad’s best friend making you wet. 

You lift the skirt of your barleycorn sundress and open your legs, knees wide on your springy mattress. You hope that it doesn’t make a sound as you push the fabric aside, dragging your fingers over your most sensitive spot.”Joel,” you whimper when your fingertip brushes your wet opening, but you’re startled when you hear the doorbell ringing. 

You pull your hand out quickly and your eyes flare open, chest heaving. You sit up, throw your legs over the side and slip on your jeans, button them up and turn to look at yourself in the mirror before heading downstairs, feeling the low throb deep inside of you as you carefully walk out into the hallway and hear your father greeting Joel as he comes in the door. 

“Howdy,” he says when he spots you descending the staircase.

You hold tight onto the handrail, afraid you might topple over from the sight of him and the fluttering between your legs. “Hi.”

Joel’s eyes travel from your face down your body, ending up on your legs. You suddenly feel self-conscious, but all the same, secretly thrilled that he’s staring at you in this way. You stare back, eyeing him up and down from his scruffy beard to his dusty lace-up boots. Your eyes meet again as you reach the bottom step.

Joel sniffs once. “The hell are you wearing a dress and jeans for?” he asks.

“It’s called fashion,” you sass, and he grunts in response. “Ready to watch the movie?”

“I’m readier than a fried egg on the San Antonio Boulevard sidewalk, darlin’.” There’s that pet name again. You bite your lip and walk into the living room, trying to regulate your breathing. Your dad is already on the couch, remote control in hand, saying he has rewinded the DVD and that the two of you are being slowpokes. 

“The old man’s got jokes,” Joel grumbles, motioning for you to sit down in between him and your dad. 

The three of you put your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. You angle your feet towards Joel’s, your pinkie toe nudging against the sole of his boot. He crosses his ankles and settles back into the couch, folding his arms and prodding your side with his elbow.

“It’s a classic,” he mutters, and you giggle.

Your dad’s head whips around to face you from your peripheral like he is watching a tennis match. “What’s so funny?” he bleats.

“Nothing,” you and Joel chime, focusing hard on the screen. You smile smugly at the fact that you have an inside joke with him, something just between the two of you.

You can’t focus on the movie when your dad turns it on, and you suspect that Joel can’t either by the way he shifts around in his seat. “Got ants in your butt, buddy?”, your dad snorts, and Joel waves dismissively while you stifle your laughter. 

“Just feel like I’m sinkin’ into the couch here,” Joel says, “‘S too soft.” 

Soft, you replay the way he says it, over and over in your mind. You wonder if he’ll think you’re soft if he touches you with his rough hands.

“This movie sucks,” you announce, halfway through. “I can’t believe I had never heard of it. I thought it only came out two years ago?”

Joel snorts. “It came out in 1968 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick, dingus. 2001 is just the title of the film.”

Your face flushes fifty shades of fuchsia. Your dad guffaws on your left side, clapping his hands together like an annoying seal. His laughter is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear his cell phone ringing until you point it out to him. 

“Yellow,” he says as he answers, and chuckles at his own joke, then holds up his finger and turns to the side, mumbling something into his phone. “Be there in twenty,” he says, then hangs up, and turns to you and Joel, “Gotta go pick up your mom but I should only be about forty five minutes as long as she doesn’t drag me into a conversation with her girlfriends. Y’all gonna be okay here?” 

You both nod and sit still as your dad groans and gets up from the couch, listening as he disappears into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket, then the door shutting. 

You go to grab the remote control to keep playing the movie, and accidentally spill some of the Coke from the can you’re holding. Joel is looking at the screen while you look at the dark stain on the couch cushion, and instead of getting up to get a paper towel to clean it with, you scoot a little closer to Joel. 

He clears his throat and puts his hand on the back of the couch, right behind your shoulders, not saying a word. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and you glance down at his crotch to see the bulge in his jeans, then look up at him. 

He looks at you for a second, then furrows his brows, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Thinkin’ about bones.”

“Bones?”

“Specifically the one in your pants, Mr. Miller,” you say and bat your eyelashes, and then, “Just kidding.” You turn your head back to the TV but you can see that he’s still looking at you. “I was actually thinking about the Micropachycephalosaurus.” 

“What did you say ‘bout my pants, darlin’? Could swear you said somethin’”

“Nothing, I promise,” you giggle and look away. 

Then his hand comes to your thigh, long fingers splayed over your jeans, thumb tracing back and forth, igniting a flame inside of you. 

“W-what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”, you ask nervously, feeling the heat pooling in your panties again, and this time, it’s not because of your imagination. 

“Lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he says, and his other hand comes to your shoulder. You whimper at his touch. “Can just call me Joel, you know that,” he scolds with a wink.

“Th-thanks, Joel.” 

You feel his hand come up under your chin with a featherlight touch, turning your face up to meet his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your face feels hot, your heart beating fast. 

He looks at you through big brown eyes. You blink softly back, trying to transmit a code to him to clue him in on the ache making your thighs clench. You wonder if he knows Morse.

Joel grips your jaw and leans in, his smoldering eyes flashing between yours and your lips. He purses his own and before you know it, his warm mouth is flush against yours, his tongue pushing inside. He licks along the rim of your teeth and you open your jaw, letting him explore your wet gums.

In an instant, you pull yourself on top of him and remove his flannel, ripping the buttons apart and scattering the cloth to the couch. Joel’s hands curve around your round tits, he rolls your pebbled nipples between his thumbs like fiddling with a console controller. You roll your hips forward with a moan.

He's so hard. You look at him with wide eyes and a pout, “You're so hard.” 

“Are you wet f’me, pretty girl?”, he asks. You know it's wrong, your dad could be home any moment, but you frantically nod. 

“Good girl,” he says, and traces his fingers along the edge of your jeans, barely making contact with your skin. 

He stands from the couch in one fluid motion, and you squeal at the sudden way in which you’re lifted in the safe grasp of his arms. It’s astounding how strong he is. How able he is to sweep you into the air, carry you out of the living room. How his biceps bulge as his boots thud up the stairs one by one.

He reaches the landing and pauses, eyes scanning the four closed doors. He steps forward and kicks open the one closest to your bodies, before realizing it is the bathroom and reversing out again.

“Pardon me,” he mumbles an apology, and you giggle again.

“It’s the one on the right,” you instruct, and he shuffles down the hall carpet before bumping your door open. He pauses for a moment when he enters the room - your childhood bedroom. 

“Haven't been in here in years,” he says, and you know he's referring to when he helped your dad take out the old closets and replace them with new ones. You still have the same closets. Maybe he's admiring his work. You look at the posters on the wall and your floral bedspread. 

Then he lays you down on the bed and sighs. “These old knees,” he grumbles, “And my fuckin’ back.” 

You giggle. 

“Mind if I take this off, darlin’?”, he asks, gently tugging at the bottom of your barleycorn sundress. You nod again, feeling your face getting hot and your panties sticking to your pussy. 

Your back arches as he slips the thin fabric from your body, your breasts spilling out of their polyester prison. Joel straightens up, admires the view and hums to himself.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muses, then bends again to press his body against yours. His fingers tussle with the waist of your jeans, the petite buttons only women's clothing seems to have, and you growl at the effort it takes for him to derobe you. 

“I know,” he says, lips close to your ear, “‘S these big ol’ hands. They get in the way of everythin’, baby.”

You whimper pathetically, wanting nothing more than those big hands to get in the way of you. You shove your fists beneath the denim when he finally undoes the zipper, and help him drag them from your legs. As soon as the heavy fabric hits your floor, Joel’s removing his own jeans. Now, only your underwear and his separate you.

There's a wet spot on his boxers already and you whimper when you place your fingertip on it, biting your lip when he growls at the sensation. “M-Mr. Miller,” you whine, “Can I see your cock? It looks really big.” 

“‘S real big, sweetie, are you sure you can handle it?” 

“Y-yes, Joel, I'm a big girl.” 

“‘F you say so,” he grumbles, then takes off his boxers, and you admire the sight of his manhood. You've never seen a big cock like that, a real thick and long one. You don't think it'll fit inside and you gasp, eyes flashing open while you start to creep backwards on the sheets. 

“Keep the panties on,” Joel orders, following between your legs. His hairy knees push deep into the plush cushion of your mattress, his fist jerks slowly up and down his dick, which seems to only grow larger the closer he gets.

You nod obediently, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes stick on the dribble of precum he swipes with his thumb. You fall back, head sinking into your pillows, and Joel hovers over you, one hand by your head. 

You peel your underwear to the side, now positively soaked. Joel’s hand leaves his member to cup you, feeling your dripping mess. “So wet f’me,” he whispers, and you moan, long and ragged. 

Then he touches the tip of his finger to your opening and watches you squirm while he starts to push it in, entering you with one thick finger. You take all of it in stride, and you frown when he retracts it. 

“So eager,” he says triumphantly, then adds another, and you feel the coil inside you start to tighten. You can't reach as deep as he does, nobody can except for him. Your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. Tears start pricking your eyes as you get closer. 

You whine, “I’m gonna come, Mr. Miller.”

He clicks his tongue, “Just Joel,” and then he picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them inside you until you gush all over your sheets and his hand, feeling the tears sliding down your temples and your fists gripping the sheets tightly. He made you come, it's like a wet dream. 

You gasp when you see the mess you made and he chuckles. “Sorry Just Joel - I mean,” you shake your head, clearing the hazy fog of sex your orgasm left behind, “Joel.” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“No need to apologize, sweet girl,” he whispers, pinching your cheek with his soaked fingers. Your own cum stains your skin, somehow cooling against the stifling hot air in your room. The air filled with lust and sex.

He draws his hand back, wraps it back around his cock, rubs your gleaming slick up and down his thickness. He groans as you coat him, head tilting back to the ceiling. For a second, you wonder if he will actually fuck you, or if he’s just here to jerk off using your cum, kneeling over you.

Your query is answered when he returns his gaze to yours and leans over you again, running the tip between your folds. Your body jolts at the contact, overstimulated and spent already. But Joel doesn’t care. The man gives no fucks.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he makes space for himself inside you, pushing the head in and impaling you on his fat girth. You feel so full. 

He bottoms out and moans. You watch a drop of sweat gliding from his hairline and down his temple, then crane your neck up to kiss it. His tip kisses your cervix on every thrust and you grip his broad shoulders, hanging onto him while he pounds you. 

“Good girl, takin’ this big fat cock,” he praises, panting into the crook of your neck. 

“Oh, fuck,” you feel the band inside of you tightening, about to snap, but then he pulls out of you and wraps his fingers around his cock again, stroking himself and snarling when he tells you to turn around. 

You’re spent, limbs wrung out like a rag, but you force yourself up while you look at his cock dumbly, seeing his precum dripping out and onto your sheets. Suddenly, you hear him, “What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart?”, and you immediately turn around and onto your hands and knees, seeing a photo of your parents on your window sill. 

You screw your eyes shut so you don’t think about them, and try to focus on Joel penetrating you from behind in one motion, going full hog, filling you to the brim with cock. “F-feels so good, Joel,” you squirm and moan while he slips his large hands onto your hips, fingers splaying out over the curve of your asscheeks, pulling you back so he can fill you relentlessly. 

His skin slaps against yours, the air in the room quickly filling with nothing but the sounds of his moans and yours, his wet and yours, his body and yours. Your eyes squeeze tight until you see stars, raining down over the darkness behind your eyelids. Your whole bed shakes vigorously with the rate Joel pounds into you, mattress knocking against your nightstand and sending the objects on it tumbling to the floor.

Joel notices as one in particular - your Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 2 Air Pulse Stimulator, which you find good but really intense with its sucking power - rolls across the wooden floor. His grip tightens on your hips and he chuckles. “‘S a good girl like you doin’ with a thing like that in her room, huh?”

Your back curls. You moan in response. “Umm,” you mumble nervously, trying to think of a response when you see his lips curve into a smirk, “I- I was trying to come, last night.” 

“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout what, young lady?” 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You were thinking about him. He can tell - he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Were you thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”, he asks, and you don’t respond. You look at him with wide eyes. “‘S alright, I’ve been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy, blowin’ my load in the shower. I ain’t ashamed to admit it, you’re a real pretty girl.” 

Your pussy gets wetter when you think about him touching himself and you wonder how it looks. Your dad would kill him if he knew, and you’re surprised Joel would tell you something like that, but it makes you so wet. 

The image in your mind forces you to arch your back, your body curving before Joel into the mattress. He grunts each time his hips come into contact with the plushy meat of your ass, telling you good girl and squeezing you just right as his cock hits you so deep you feel him in your chest.

“I’m - gonna - cum - again,” you pant, words muffled by the floral pattern your lips are smushed into. “Joel - I’m -”

“I hear ya, baby,” he says, hips snapping. His voice is rough, hoarse. He sounds like he needs some NyQuil. You make a mental note to offer him a refreshing glass once you’re done. “Cum for me, go on. Know you need it.”

Your walls close around him as you do as he says, tightening around the intrusion in your pussy. 

His cock begins to twitch deep inside you and he shoves you by the ass off of him. You tumble to the bed and roll over just in time to be drowned by his cum, thick white ropes spraying all over your tummy and tits. You worry with the ferocity of his release that it might reach the photo of your parents, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure of the moment, your own spend spilling out of your tight little hole.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, “Take that cum.” Then, all of a sudden, his face drops and he freezes in place. He looks at you, covered in his semen, then runs his hand over his face and tucks himself back in his pants. He looks stressed as it dawns on him that he just came all over his best friend’s daughter.

“Joel,” you say carefully. 

“Yes, darlin’”. He winces when the word leaves his mouth. 

“W-what if my dad finds out?”

He runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know,” he says, “I gotta go.”

“But w-wait, Joel!”

He’s already shuffling out of your room, hopping as he tugs his jeans back over his hips. “M’sorry, baby, I have to-”

“Wait!” you yelp, tearing your underwear from your body. You almost trip over the fabric as you hop down from your bed. “Take these!”

You throw the panties across your room and Joel catches them against his chest, scrunching them into a ball. You sit back on your heels, totally naked in front of him, smirking at the thought of him crossing paths with your dad in the hallway and knowing the secret he holds in his jeans pocket. Knowing that he just fucked his best friend’s daughter, in her childhood bedroom.

His cheeks heat with shock. Your panties are dripping wet. He nods and tucks them into his back pocket and adjusts the crotch of his pants over his still hard cock. 

Suddenly, you hear the front door opening. 

Your parents are home. 

You gasp and fumble with your jeans, trying to put them on with shaky hands while you hear Joel step onto the first floor, just leaving the staircase as the door shuts behind your parents as they come in. 

“Hey, buddy,” your dad calls, and you hover at the top of the stairs. “What- whatcha doin’ with your shirt off?”

Joel stammers, scratching the back of his neck. Your mom stares at him, eyes raking up and down his hairy torso. You feel a hot pang of jealousy at her wandering eyes on the man you just fucked.

“She, uh,” he motions up to you, now stepping slowly down the stairs, “She spilled her drink down my shirt.” He reaches for the crumpled flannel, whipping it in his hands and throwing it over his shoulders.

Your mom tsks. “So clumsy,” she says, shaking her head. “Did you get it cleaned alright?”

Joel nods, jumping a little when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs by his side. He’s still buttoning the shirt. “Yeah, all cleaned up. Thank you, ma’am.”

You feel a surge of excitement shoot through your veins, feeling your wet leaking out onto your jeans and knowing what lives in Joel’s pocket. You sway back and forth, hands clasped behind your back, smiling innocently.

“Sweetie,” your mom calls over, “Why don’t you go walk Joel to his truck?”

“Y-yes, mom,” you stutter, and motion for Joel to walk ahead of you. 

“Have a good night,” he says and pats your dad on the back on his way out. 

You watch every one of his heavy footsteps down the hall and out of the house, slipping on your Crocs before you follow him out, closing the door behind you. 

The two of you linger outside of his truck for a moment. He looks over your shoulder, squinting in the Texas sun as he looks towards the house. You look at the gray in his beard, the curve of his nose and his salt and pepper hair. 

Part of you hopes he’ll ask to see you again, but he’s your dad’s best friend, it could never work. He kicks a small rock with the toe of his boot, arms folded. He leans against the truck and looks up at the sky. 

Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and the feeling of his sticky cum on your stomach, gradually absorbing into your skin. 

“Guess I’ll see you ‘round,” he says and straightens up. He purses his lips while he looks away, then at you. 

You giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um, yeah.”

“Then I’ll teach you a lesson ‘bout not payin’ attention while watchin’ a movie,” he says, and his voice is sultry and raspy. His fingers are around your chin, tilting your face up to him. “You’ve been a bad girl, lettin’ your dad’s buddy fuck you like a little slut.”

Your lips smush between his finger and thumb. “Yesh, Mr. Miller,” you push between your teeth.

“The hell’d I tell you? It’s Joel.”

You nod fervently. “Yesh, Jool.”

He releases you and opens the truck door, eyeing you constantly as he gets in. 

You pick at your nails nervously as you watch him start the truck, and then drive away. 

You lean against your parents’ Honda Civic and look up at the sky, closing your eyes and sighing. Your teeth come to bite your lower lip into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue. Your dad’s best friend. 

He promised he would teach you a lesson. You wonder what the lesson is.

[yuurei20]

Updated Sebek Facts Part 7: Intelligence

Sebek says that his grandfather gave him “an enriching education,” buying him books and teaching him the joys of reading from when he was young. Sebek says he has kept every book that his grandfather has ever given him, and mentions picking up a book at the school store that his grandfather recommended: “I'll have to read it multiple times and send him my thoughts!”

Sebek compliments the library at Noble Bell College and he may visit NRC’s library fairly often, with Lilia commenting in a vignette, “Were you at the library again? It looks like you've checked out even more books than usual.”

Sebek also mentions reading “a fascinating history book” and a classic novel called “Omero and Lietju,” presumably the Twst-equivalent of Romeo and Juliet.

Sebek says he spends his days off adhering to a strict routine: "reviewing my notes, and preparing for class. I spend the rest of my time reading. On days when the Equestrian Club doesn't meet, I check the school store and go into town to see what new books are in stock."

Deuce comments that Sebek really does know a lot, and we see an example of this during Fairy Gala IF when Sebek gives the other first-year students a lecture on diurnal fae aesthetics.  (Ortho: “You really do know a lot about fae.”)

Sebek also recognizes the commands used during the Harveston sled race saying that he has read about forms of horseback riding that involve vocal commands, though they do not use such methods in NRC’s equestrian club. (Epel: “You're so well-informed.”)

Sebek also seems to surprise Baul during Book 7 with his knowledge of Briarland geography and Sebek says that he memorized the layout of the land while studying its history.

During his birthday interview Ortho talks about how people born in Briar valley grow up hearing tales of the Thorn Fairy, “Which naturally makes them emotionally attached to those stories, so discussions pertaining to them can get quite heated.”

Ortho says that people are liable to trust those idealized memories over accurate data and Sebek insists, “The Thorn Fairy WAS ideal. One cannot extol her virtues enough!”

Ortho offers to debate Sebek on the subject after the interview (“In class the other day, I was able to use my database of sources to debunk every contradiction I found…”) and Sebek agrees, saying that he is exceedingly well-read on all matters concerning the Thorn Fairy.

[kvetchlandia]

Pompilio Villarubbia Norri Roman Poet Gaius Valerius Catullus c.1935

When I was in high school, everyone was taking smart choice foreign languages: French, Spanish, German. I'm sure people would have taken Mandarin had my school offered it. But no, not me. I had to do the lame thing and go for the useless. I took Latin. By the time I hit university, I was pretty advanced in the language, but hadn't yet subjected myself to the barbarism of Medieval Church Latin (sorry, but what can I tell ya? I'm a classicist, I guess). Anyway, in my first term at Berkeley, I took an intensive course so I could hop right into translation of serious classical documents. My instructor (I still remember her name, which was great. She was called Tizzzie) had us select a Catullus poem to translate, just as a warm up. At random, because I didn't know it, I chose Catullus 58, one of the Lesbia poems. Lesbia was Catullus' love for a while, and he wrote a bunch of lovely romantic poems inspired by and dedicated to her. Then they had a nasty breakup and he took out the literary knives. Here is Catullus 58 in Latin:

Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, nunc in quadriviis et angiportis glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.

The reason I'm telling this boring tale is this: Look at the last line. Do you see the first word in the line - glubit (3rd person singular of the verb glubere, if you really wanted to know, which I rather doubt is the case). Well, I had no idea what the verb meant, never having encountered it before. I looked it up in my little student's Latin/English dictionary, only to find that it didn't appear there. Mystified, I went to the Doe Library, Berkeley's main library, where they had a bunch of Latin/English dictionaries. I grabbed one off the shelf at random and finally found a definition, which was "to bark back." I was like, "to bark back," what the fuck does that mean? Finally, I went to the humungous Oxford Latin Dictionary, in which at last I found a definition that made some sense. That would be - glubere: to pull back the foreskin prior to giving oral sex.

Damn, Latin actually had a piece of sex slang which literally meant to pull back the foreskin prior to giving a blow job! I learned this at UC Berkeley. And people say college isn't good for anything!

And, for those few of you who've bothered to read this far, here's my translation of the poem:

Caelius, our Lesbia, that Lesbia, that same Lesbia, who alone Catullus once loved more than himself and all others, now in the crossroads and alleyways pulls back the foreskins and sucks off the descendants of noble Remus.

OK, that's our lesson for the day. Be prepared for a quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed.

[royal-chandler]

Hi! For the ficlet prompt, my three words are:

wine, tremble, lazy

🩷

Thank you for the prompt! I hope this is to your liking! ♥️

---

In March, they steal away to Paris. 

That’s the romantic narration of it, anyway. In reality, Alex had given the law firm months' notice of his plans to use up his vacation time on his and Henry’s birthdays and then worked practically non-stop until the day of their flight, weekends included. Henry’s first draft of his novel was sent to his editor via email while their plane smoked on the tarmac, also having predominantly spent the majority of the lead-up to their hop across the Atlantic working heavily, splitting his time between his office and the youth shelter. 

They mimed passing ships in the night during those closing weeks—college-try handjobs in their morning showers, a conveyor belt of a la carte lunches and takeout dinners, and catch-up conversations that sped into snores under their blankets, against the kitchen island, and in front of the muted tv.  

At one embarrassingly low point, Alex had sluggishly hiked the steps of the brownstone, lost a battle with his set of keys, and called Henry to let him in because something was wrong with the lock. Stepping outside of the neighboring door, phone still pressed to his ear, Henry had laughed that their locks were actually just fine. 

All worth it, Alex decides, living to tell the tale and look over the cinematic heart of the city—the crowd of rooftops and warm shades of gold dotted from the streetlamps all the way to the Eiffel Tower—from his seat on their terrace as music spills from the hotel room.

A deviation from restaurant reservations and room service and at Henry’s insistence, it’s a Parisian picnic tonight. Alex doesn’t know how or when Henry had gotten it done, now that they’re in each other's pockets again but it’s a postcard setting. The round table is draped with the classic checkered cloth and topped with candles and a decanter of wine, and there’s an assortment of fresh breads, cheeses, fruits, and meats—including the chicken mousse that the Texan in Alex really hadn't wanted to like but is shamefully into.

He’s spreading it thick onto another pinch of bread when Henry comments, amused, “We’ll need to make some extra room in your suitcase to accommodate bringing a case of that back home.”

“Ugh yes,” Alex agrees, popping the bread in his mouth. Once he’s swallowed, he tacks on, “But we’ll have to hide it deep in our cabinets. Like not easily visible to our guests. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Think you're safe there,” Henry replies, rolling his eyes but his tone rings nothing less than charmed. “I truly doubt that anyone aside from you has ever uttered the words ‘a meat has no validity unless you can throw barbecue sauce on it.’”

“Okay, I’ll grant you maybe not in that exact syntax but the sentiment is out there. Trust me,” Alex insists before a sip of the wine he also wants to smuggle back to the States. 

Every single thing Henry has picked out for the night has been divine but Alex is most appreciative of the picture across from him. Henry is an academic stunner in his sweater, a soft earthy green that he fills out so perfectly with his broad shoulders and curved arms it’ll almost be a travesty when Alex hauls it off of him later. His hair is grown out and dark, partially swept back and behind an ear that’s now pierced with a circle of silver. Best of everything fucking wonderful, there's pretty crescent moons around Henry's mouth that rival the full one hanging above them.

“Whatever you say, love,” Henry says with his grin after waiting out Alex’s intake of him, wise to Alex as always.

“Whatever you say, love,” Alex parrots back, a second nature refrain. “Ooh speaking of, tomorrow’s your day, baby. Was there anything you had in mind?”

There’s a poignant change in Henry’s expression, his mouth so ready-set-go that Alex expects him to name drop another book store or museum with specific pursuits for wherever they go, to unburden an impassioned lecture on a literary figure or regale Alex with the lengthy history behind a painting they have to see and study. 

What Alex doesn’t expect is for Henry to come to his side and take a careful knee, to pull a square jewelry box from its hiding place in Henry’s pants pocket and for Henry’s hand to slightly tremble as it flips the box open before holding it out.

Alex doesn’t expect the gorgeous band of gold that shines in candle light and rings around his heart, claiming it.

“I’d love to enjoy the entire day with my fiancé if he would abide?” Henry offers simply.

“Yes,” Alex says, sure and within so slim a breath, his answer is merely a punctuation on Henry’s question.

Alex makes surprise wait until the ring has slipped on his finger, until he’s kissed Henry with the intent to do so for the rest of his life, until he’s got Henry underneath him and around him in their bed—lazy with love and then impatient with it. There, Alex will let surprise meet and then yield to the knowledge that tomorrow he’ll have a proposal of his own.

[bidoofenergy]

I dont think you meant to give me an opportunity to talk about dogman but im here anyway (the perils of being a leafcabbage mutual) you might know this already but the premise of the comics is that they're being written by two 5th graders (who are learning about classic books. so some dog man books are called things like "Mothering Heights" and "Tale of Two Kitties") so a dogs head being sewn to a man's body because they're both dying is like average 10 year old boy storytelling lol. dav pilkey (dog man and captain underpants author) has such a good idea of how kids Are and I love it

NO YEAH ITS INSANE AND DEVASTATING IF YOU THINK TOO LONG AND SO ON BRAND FOR KIDS there's a really good fan comic about dogman that made me cry lemme see if i can find it

ETA: FOUND IT

on many levels the captain underpants series was so good!! adhd/dyslexia rep, approachable, genuinely funny, and so so absurd,, for me it was right as schools/librarians were pushing the "graphic novels are novels" message which i know was/still is a big deal for a lot of kids..

anyways my dav pilkey story is that i got to meet him at 18 as a college freshman and tell him how much i loved his books and that i thought it was really cool harold married a man and now i have a signed full-color copy of the first captain underpants book

[absolutebl]

hi!! i got into bl in 2020 and watched just abt all of them i could get my hands on back then, but i’ve slowly stopped watching them over the last couple years. i loved the feeling watching them gave me, tho, so i wanna get back into it!

my favorites are to my star, semantic error, 2gether, we best love, and tale of thousand stars! i don’t mind high intensity (like physical stuff) but i definitely don’t need it to enjoy a story! if you don’t mind, can you recommend me some newer bls (or gls!) i might like? i’d appreciate it a ton!!! 💕

my favorites are:

to my star,

semantic error,

2gether,

we best love,

tale of thousand stars

I would call all these pretty classic romance BLs. This mostly jives with my own taste so I'll pull some of my favorites for you.

Did you make it to Old Fashion Cupcake?

If not just GO WATCH THAT.

Otherwise...

2023 High Romance BLs to suck you back into the fold

Our Dating Sim (Korea Viki)

If you haven't watched this, it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL.

From your list this one is most tonally similar to we best love

Love Tractor (Korea iQIYI)

Most of this country-set BL had me feral for the beautiful broken city boy and his hot young farmer. Hyung romance, puppy/cat pairing, open frankness meets jaded reserve, language play, water hose frolicking, only one bed, just all my favorite tropes. This show was basically a light-weight Restart After Come Back Home and I’m not even slightly mad about that.

From your list this is most tonally similar to semantic error

My School President (Thai YouTube)

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

From your list this is most tonally similar to 2gether.

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku (Japan Gaga)

Lonely salaryman and talented cook (Inukai Atsuhiro - Absolute BL et al) gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. I was always gonna love the show if they stuck to the manga (which is very dear to my heart). And they did, paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me with the best of what Japan can do. It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not couple intimacy, it’s OK with me, but not totally BL.

From your list this on is most tonally similar to ... erm ... none, this is a new creature. Might not work for you.

The New Employee (Korea Viki)

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG.

From your list this is most tonally similar to we best love

Unintentional Love Story (Korea iQIYI)

A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist character a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT as the harried salaryman - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya).

From your list this is most tonally similar to tale of thousand stars

The Eighth Sense (Korea Viki)

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us and it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and tons angst drives the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and is HUGELY romantic, that counts for a lot.

From your list this is most tonally similar to to my star 1 & 2. But it's quite heavy so... make sure you're int the right mood.

[llycaons]

okay let me organize. this will probably take me to next year but I do want to prioritize what was already on my list

already up there, no matter the quality:

sorceror to the crown

when fox is a thousand

a taste of gold and iron (if I ever get around to it...)

sistersong - need to give this one a shot

snow crash

tress of the emerald sea - my baby brother LOVES this one I must not disappoint new:

anna karenina - my mom likes this one and I'm excited for the drama and writing

don quixote - a parody, I think

the count of monte cristo - I saw the movie! definitely on the list

the bluest eye - I was unable to keep reading this one when I initially started it but I really love morrison's other works so I'm bringing it back now

the metamorphosis - on the list but not available as an audiobook so it could be a while

things fall apart - definitely a priority, but not available as an audiobook

dracula - available but im saving it for halloween. the structure intrigues me. I tried doing the dracula daily but got bored

frankenstein - on the list!

gods of jade and shadow - not considered a classic but I still want to read it, don't want it to be left behind now that I'm in another bout of book-reading

giovvani's room - 14 weeks wait :(

journey to the west - I think I know enough to be able to follow it but maybe an annotated copy would be better

epic of gilgamesh - release an audio version 🥺🥺🥺 pleaseeee

one hundred years of solitude - I do want to read this but I think I will need help

crime and punishment - I tried to read this one when I started college but it was DENSE. lower priority

moby dick - I have friends into this one!

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See - this looks extremely well-researched and I'm pretty intrigued by the language that's referenced, the one that women use to communicate with each other

The Bonesetter's Daughter by Amy Tan - I like Tan's work, and this one is new to me

The Book of Chuang Tzu - so this is a chinese classic, written in the 4th century. goodrreads claims 'Where the Tao Te Ching is distant and proverbial in style, the Chuang Tze buzzes with life and with insights, often with considerable humour behind them." and if that's true I would love to read it

The Activist's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for a Modern Revolution - I have no way to know how good this book is but the concept definitely interests me. it reminds me of an article about taoism's relationship to anarchism I read years ago. the summary makes me a little nervous tho

I've already read all of austen and the brontes I've wanted to, I read les mis, no interest in little women, I hate oscar wilde on a personal level, I struggle a lot with surrealism so I'm sticking to more conventional structures, I don't have a lot of interest in white 20th-century americana, I consider ishiguro's books to be modern classics with beautiful writing but they make me too sad, hmm why the fuck is call be by your name on this list...I'm interested in Taoism in novels but I haven't found a lot that offer that besides the danmei I've already read (ha) but it sounds like it will be a definite theme in JTTW. another reason to get an annotated copy. all the books I'm finding look like they're written by white academics anyway. I mean there's THE Tao Te Ching but I definitely need that one annotated and I think it would be difficult for me to focus on since it sounds a little dry.

I do want to get into historical texts like jttw it's just a question of how much I'd understand which is why an annotated physical copy is probably the way to go with something like that. like I saw an excerpt of the tale of genji and I was completely lost

[cringecompanionapologist]

Turlough Tales: Mawdryn Undead

So, in 1996, a fanzine (I think) called Vision went through all the Classic Who episodes, discussed the scripts, shooting, and reception at the time before throwing their own little review in.

Each entry starts with a bit of fanfiction connected to the serial they'll be talking about. Mawdryn Undead and Planet of Fire both include stories directly about Turlough, since they're his first and last stories respectively.

I'd already seen the one from Mawdryn Undead around before, without the context of where it came from beyond "some fanzine idk". It's a short bit (all of these are more "bits" than full-on stories btw) about Turlough first arriving at Brendon. It's called To Unnerve Them All My Days, which is a reference to a thing I don't care about.

Turlough was supposed to pass for ten years old when he arrived lol.

This fanzine generally can't make up its mind on how Turlough's first name is meant to be spelled, but this one's Team Vislor.

So apparently they planned for his exile to go on long enough that they'd need a college for him to go to eventually. Why then didn't just have him be a college student in the first place, no one knows. Turlough is already described as looking far older than ten years old, so that might've been possible.

Apparently even Trion schools have gym class. Turlough's disdain for school athletics isn't cultural, apparently. Other stories about Turlough establish the Imperial Clans as scientists, so I'd always thought of him as a sort of snobby intellectual who saw any physical activity as beneath him, in a sense.

Turlough's connection to the civil war, what role he played in it, is another thing that sort of varies. This version has him pressured into doing what authority figures in his life wanted and now paying the price for it. And, unlike most versions of Turlough who insist that Trion is so much better than Earth, he sees them as not that different, both plagued by war and greed and gym class.

He seems to compare his family to the royal family of England, which fits with the "alien prince" description given in a more recent annual. The English Civil War is interesting to bring up here, because Turlough could see it as a story of hope. The monarchy was overthrown, surviving members of the royal family went into exile, but then the new government also sucked and they brought the monarchy back. Turlough could hope for a similar outcome: that his family would be restored to power and he'd get to come home.

And we end on his determination to escape.

So, it's an interesting take. I like it. Here's the drawing that went with it:

[scoobydoodean]

I think some of the "Sam thinks Dean is stupid" stuff comes the repeat "joke" of him constantly being surprised when Dean reads or knows literary references lol

Sure. You know what I think this is also a function of though? Dean saying things like, "Dude, could you be any more gay?" in 3.05 because Sam remembers the story of Cinderella. Actively supporting a narrative that he does not like reading or at least certain types of books (I actually think maybe Dean isn't a huge fan of classic fairy tales for various reasons but I digress). Also Dean often frames Sam as the researcher and himself as the do-er. Even in season 1, where Dean's competence at hunting alone (both the researching side and the actual killing part) is very evident, in Scarecrow, he jokes, "I’m actually on my way to a local community college. I’ve got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research." He allows this narrative of himself versus Sam to persist, except when he doesn't and goes, "What? I read" ("Baby" is one example). (Really he just likes keeping Sam on his toes and constantly turning the tables to remind him that there are things he does not know jhvdshggvzhsdvhsa.)

Dean seems to be an avid reader of fiction and he extensively incorporates his consumption of media (watched, read) into pop culture references throughout the series. He loves a good story. He is also an extremely competent researcher when he wants to be... but there are also suggestions that Dean most of the time doesn't particularly enjoy the research grind. Sam? Well—he does seem to have a fondness for fairy tales specifically, but he's that nerd who looks at a call number from the Library of Congress and goes, "This references sciences and probably birds specifically". Also the kind of nerd who would probably work up a whole reference system for the bunker library, which I think Dean would do if he had to--but he wouldn't enjoy doing it and I think Sam is the kind of person who would actively enjoy doing that.

Dean's relationship to research comes across very ADHD to me personally in the mid to late series. Like he can suddenly be sitting for hours doing research if that is what he NEEDS to be doing in that moment and there's some real urgency to that need. But most of the time I think looking through tomes for hours and hours searching for an obscure spell is not what he would like to be doing, and Sam kind of enjoys that shit. I also think perhaps Sam has trouble understanding the difference between the two ways he and Dean relate to books and how both of them like reading but for different reasons, and that not enjoying what he enjoys about research does not mean you don't enjoy reading books generally. But Dean also contributes to this narrative of "Sam is the researcher, and I do not like books", like in 13.17 (because they are about to spend hours and hours researching) saying very sarcastically, "I love books!"

As an aside though also, thinking your brother doesn't like to read also doesn't mean you think he's stupid. There are many reasons not to like reading. Facts about me: I loved to read novels as a child and now I hate reading novels. I can enjoy reading only VERY selectively, have a very short attention span for reading certain types of materials, and haven't picked up a novel in years because I don't want to. But I also have a Masters degree and am working on a PhD. I also don't believe formal education is always a great indicator of intelligence, but neither is not reading books. When Sam gets really scathing and jokes about how "Yes I read books without pictures even", I don't think that is something he would say if he genuinely believed Dean was stupid.

[ashensgrotto]

Special Announcement

Ok, oof! Got something that you guys should know about.

I will be taking a break from writing TWST Fanfictions for a short while. No, I'm not intending on leaving the fandom and I still intend on writing for the fanbase - I just need a break from it for a while.

For those of you who don't know, I am the author of a trilogy that is currently a work in progress; It's called the "Twisted Tales" trilogy. Now, I know that might sound a little like a "Twisted Wonderland" story series, but it is not.

So, what is it?

It's three chaptered stories that give a gothic romance twist on three classic fairytales: Beauty and the Beast, Little Red Riding Hood, and The Little Mermaid/The Frog Prince.

I started writing the trilogy back when I was still in college - about five to eight years ago - and finished the first book (which is The Vampire's Rose) back in May 2023 around the same time I was introduced to the "Twisted Wonderland" game. I will be working on the second book (The Wolf's Ruby Veil) next and it will likely be a bit of a dozy.

I also have another side story that I would like to finish this year by October called "Pumpkin Eater," which is a dark take on the classic nursery rhyme, "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater."

Hence, I will be leaving tumblr for a short time to work on these to little monsters of my own creation. I will attempt to post updates as I go, but if you want to - please feel free to come by and see me on my Ao3 account where I have the action going.

Also, as long as both stories are completed by or before Dec. 31st - New Years Eve - I will have a little something planned out for you as a token of my appreciation - especially since I'm coming up or have reached 150 followers by this point.

Thank you so much for all the support and love you guys have given! I am so thankful to be able to read your comments and just enjoy this wonderful fandom. You guys are seriously the best! Take care of yourselves and I hope to see you all soon!

[stingraywipe]

#11, #18, and #44— or #33 if you don't have a favorite myth for #11 ^^

Ooo, these are good.

#11: Favorite ancient tale/myth?

I took a classical mythology class my freshman year of college and three years of Latin in high school (we did a lot of Roman mythology stuff in there), so I actually have a good bit of material to work with here! I think my favorites are the ones that start to blur the line between history and mythology. The Iliad/Trojan war, for example, is one I like a lot, because it very much feels like an actual event that took place. I find it really interesting to read stories like that where the gods become deeply involved with a seemingly real conflict that should just be an issue among mortals.

#18: Have I ever written a script?

Not anything I'd ACTUALLY consider a script. I guess I've technically written some very short script-like things for some skits/projects in school, but nothing I every put too much work into or would actually consider a script. Almost all of the writing I do is scientific or analytical, but when I do write fictional pieces I'm definitely better at more traditional narrative stuff.

#33: How do I feel about coconut?

I'm not a huge fan of it. I like it mixed into some things like with piña coladas, but besides that I tend to avoid it.

#44: What are some little things that make me happy?

Seeing the incredible art/stories people create here, and how it's able to bring so many people together

The weekly calls I have with my friends who I don't get to see often because we go to different colleges. We've been doing this for a year now, and my best friend and I have been telling the others the stories for OC's we've been writing for almost 10 years now

Looking at all the plushies of Pokemon, Kirby, Ori, and others that I have around my room

Thinking about how far I've come this semester in terms of my mental health

Cuddling with my cats back at home

Simply being in the presence of my close friends, whether we're actually doing anything or not

[aboutanancientenquiry]

"The Fragile Nature of Truth Still Resonates

Munson (left) and Dewald at conference held in Herodotus' honor for the 2500 year anniversary of the Greco-Persian War. Photo by Laçin Karaöz

What useful lessons could a history of the Greco-Persian Wars written in 430 B.C. possibly have for us today? Several, if you ask Swarthmore’s J. Archer and Helen C. Turner Professor of Classics Rosaria Vignolo Munson and Carolyn Dewald ’68, professor emerita of classical studies at Bard College.

The two authored a recent commentary on Herodotus’ Histories, a text that has enjoyed a recent spike of academic interest (enough to spawn a Herodotus Helpline).

“Herodotus is called the father of history because [Herodotus’ Histories] is the first work of historiography that has actually survived in the West,” says Munson. “He's very important because he is the first one who wants to examine the causes of events in the past, like for example, why war happened, and why people win wars.”

Histories has it all: fact, fiction, betrayal, murder… and don’t worry if it’s all Greek to you. 

“[Herodotus is] great at really just sliding in information to locate you so that you know what the point is going to be because you're given the background,” says Dewald.

Munson and Dewald have shown the same commitment to accessibility in their commentary.

“We took the Greek text of the first book and we made this commentary,” says Munson. “It is preceded by very full introductions to various topics Herodotus talks about, including the various people that he treats.” Line by line, they explain the Greek grammar, what it means, and offer interpretation and parallels.

Munson posits that the recent surge of interest in his work is because his exploration of the fragile nature of truth still resonates today. “He has come to the realization that memory is relative, and so sometimes he says, ‘The Athenians say this, and the Persians say this other thing. I really cannot tell which one of the two versions is right.’ He makes you aware of his research and of his efforts.”

Perhaps, in an era where misinformation proliferates rapidly, this level of transparency causes us to question how we know what we know and what makes us trust our sources. 

And if we think respect for different cultures is a modern value, Herodotus proves us wrong. 

“He is describing the expansion of the Persian Empire … they were a superpower, multi-ethnic empire,” says Munson. “He just stops and examines all the various peoples that the Persian had conquered. He says the custom is king of all, so whatever is one's custom, you have to respect it.” 

Though Herodotus took pains to interview eyewitnesses and provide evidence for many of his claims, Histories includes figures from Greek mythology and a bit of his own moralizing.

“One of the things that he really hates is tyranny, the autocratic king, the dictator, the one who conquers other lands,” says Munson. “Very topical, especially now with the war in Ukraine. He would have a very clear position on that.”

And for those of us who grew up on folktales like The Tortoise and the Hare and The Emperor's New Clothes, Herodotus’ warnings about the dangers of hubris might feel familiar.

“In many cases, he shows that the reason why there is a downfall from great prosperity to not so great over time is because people have hubris, have pride, and they go overboard,” says Munson. “On the one hand, they are punished by the gods, but the way they're punished by the gods is simply by the fact that they start acting in unreasonable and self-detrimental ways.” 

Some of his cautionary tales are still scandalous by today’s standards. Histories is rife with husband-murdering queens and sister-marrying kings.

“[Herodotus] went around and collected great stories,” says Dewald. “It's really fun reading.” 

So, why still read such an ancient text? Because it has so many layers, there is always more to uncover.

“A lot of the stories are extremely funny in an extremely sly kind of way,” says Dewald. “I've been reading Herodotus for over 40 years, and I'm still finding things. ‘Wait a minute. Oh, that's a joke.’ But the joke always sends us to things that are pretty deep and worth thinking about.”"

From the website of Swarthmore College.

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Man Who Ruined Science Fiction (part 1)

That title is a gross exaggeration.  Roger Elwood in and of himself did not ruin science fiction, at least not all of it and certainly not permanently, but he did screw up a major hunk of it during the 1970s.

Let his tale be a warning to others.

Born in Atlantic City, NJ in 1943, Elwood seems to have been a primarily East Coast / NYC based writer / editor, conducting most of his business via mail though he did attend out of state conventions.

He began writing professionally soon after graduating high school.  I’ve found no record of him attending college (which I don’t hold against him; neither did I) or of any closely related family.  His earliest appearance in the world of science fiction is an interview with Joseph Stephano regard the then current Outer Limits TV show in Famous Monsters Of Filmland no26 (Oct. 1963).

It speaks volumes about my level of geekdom that I knew exactly which issue it appeared in without checking.

For FM it was an unusual article, one of the very few credited to an outside writer who wasn’t an already established pro giving an opinion of some classic horror film.  Elwood possessed a fair amount of skill as an interviewer, and for a couple of years in the early 1970s edited two wrestling magazines for an out of state publisher (The Big Book of Wrestling and Official Wrestling Guide), until he quit in a pay dispute according to some sources or according to others in dismay at learning wrestling was faked.

I can’t attest to the latter, but I will say it sounds in character for all I’ve learned about him.  Despite his interest in sci-fi and his professional publishing contacts, Elwood displayed a remarkable naivete throughout his career.

I don’t mean that in a positive way.

In the early 1960s he began packaging a series of reprint anthologies for various publishers, sometimes co-editing with Sam Moskowitz, a longtime sci-fi fan turned writer and genre historian, and Vic Ghidalia, an NYC based TV publicist (possibly the connection who arranged the Outer Limits interview?). 

His earliest anthologies appear pretty standard for the genre, collecting some of the better stories from the pulp and early digest era and reprinting them for new readers.

All that changed abruptly in 1967 when Harlan Ellison edited his groundbreaking original anthology, Dangerous Visions.

Dangerous Visions and its 1972 follow-up Again, Dangerous Visions provided a pair of sledgehammer blows that shattered the pulp era-sensibilities of science fiction that still hampered the genre in the 1960s.

They lit the fuse for a decade long controversy in sci-fi fandom called the Old Thing vs. New Wave feud. 

While today many of the stories in both anthologies seemed tainted with sophomoric iconoclasm, at the time they demolished long held publishing taboos in the field, in particular stories that questioned the existence or value of God.

This seems like middle school edgelording today, but at the time appeared absolutely unthinkable.  While the controversy around the two anthologies involved far more than that, in retrospect this couldn’t escape Elwood’s notice.

Just as the anthologies’ phenomenal success not escape it, either.

© Buzz Dixon

[pesbianlanic]

may 2023 reading

books in bold are especially recommended!

Bad Gays: A Homosexual History by Huw Lemmey & Ben Miller - 4/5. when they say bad, they mean bad. a fascinating analysis of some queer collaborators in/perpetrators of violence, colonialism, imperialism, and fascism.

The Devourers by Indra Das - 5/5. this book is chilling, visceral, consuming, enchanting, intoxicating. i have never read anything like it before, and i’m so glad that i read it.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power - 3/5. i enjoyed reading this, but i also think this book had a lot of wasted potential. there were elements (survival, body horror, queer romance) that didn’t feel fully fleshed out.

Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson, Fall River Press leatherbound edition - 2/5. Emily Dickinson’s poetry always gets a 5/5 from me. this edition is over-edited - leaving out her unique capitalization and dashes, rearranging and replacing words, and leaving out entire stanzas in some cases. do not fall for the pretty cover. i will be seeking out a better edition.

Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer - 4/5. two questions: for the love of dogs, why wasn’t the twilight saga set in a college town? and where was this characterization of bella in the original books? anyway, i actually enjoyed this. Meyer’s prose has improved a lot, and she clearly has had time to think about the story.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman - 4/5. crying. a beautiful, charming, sad-in-a-good-way story.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini - 5/5. a classic that deserves to be a classic.

Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson - 5/5. she was a master of creating terror through unease, dread, and anticipation of the unknown. my favorites were “paranoia,” “the beautiful stranger,” and “a visit” (aka “the lovely house”)!

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath - 3/5. lovely prose, but depressing. tw / cw: suicide, questionable ‘50s mental health treatments, racism, fatphobia, and sexism of the not like other girls variety.

[abookisafriend]

uprooted, by naomi novik: three and four fifths trees out of five

i started reading naomi novik's novels when i was in college and she was producing the temeraire series (his majesty's dragon), a series that reputedly began as a master and commander fanfic and escaped into the wild when novik shaved off the serial numbers and revised it with original characters. i enjoyed the first book and loved their visit to imperial china but didn't get caught in the series, perhaps partially because i was focused on college and getting into graduate school. i recently got back into novik's books by reading a deadly education, the first book in the scholomance series (hope with me that it's a series and not a trilogy, okay?). when i ran out of scholomance books, finished the first three locked tomb novels, and had nothing else to warm my lonely nights, i found uprooted.

uprooted was recommended to me by the same reader who recommended the scholomance novels. it's a very different book, though. this novel is set in a vaguely fantasized europe -- except that it's clearly poland near the border with kievan rus (the former russian domain, overlapping with today's belarus and ukraine). they have blini and zhurek and the country is called "polnya" (novik's family are polish on her mother's side). the year is sometime after 1267, based on the date of one book the main character references, but we don't know how long. it is in the days of swords and bows, before the gun. like the scholomance, though, the protagonist is a young woman who starts out with few resources but comes to cultivate tremendous power.

uprooted takes a very classical approach to the rewritten fairy tale genre. the characters are a mix of peasants and princes, and the main threat of the book is a mysterious and dangerous woodland -- "the Wood". the structure of the plot is a series of interlocked arcs, each part of the story a bit self-contained but leading into the next. there is something of a classical feel without becoming generic. you may be frustrated by the implication (if you know your tropes) that there will be a romance, since one of the implied romantic figures is rather disagreeable, but you may warm up to him by the later parts of the book. this book is especially recommended for readers who grew up with howl's moving castle and want an adult version of the story.