#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.

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part one

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

it’s summer in austin, and you and joel meet for the first time.

a/n: the joel miller brain rot is real and your advocate is here to help! masterlist will be up shortly, special thank yous and shout outs to @psychedelic-ink @allfoolsinluv and @gnollengrom for letting me scream about this fic in your dms 🤍 I have thought of little else for the last 48 hours

word count: 3.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI - this part is not explicit but other parts will be, masterlist has further warnings, but no real warnings for this part except a lot of fluff?? and banter?? and I’m obsessed kthanksbyeeeee

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works/chapters, follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

You meet Joel Miller long before the world implodes.

It’s 2001, you’re fresh out of college, relocated to Austin, Texas where your parents have taken over an old hardware store that once belonged to your grandfather. Nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for the time being, you spend most of your time in the store, stocking shelves and chatting with customers, learning the different things the store keeps on hand, what has to be shipped in special order. It’s not much, but it’s something to do; you’re just happy to be back with your family after four long years at college. Sure, you came home for holidays when you could, but it wasn’t the same.

It still isn’t the same, not really.

The house you live in is foreign to you, not the same roof you grew up under. The people are the same, your parents clearly happy to have you back, your little sister overjoyed to have someone in her corner again. Austin is nice, the weather warmer than you’re used to after four years in Michigan, but it’s a welcome change. Summer seems to go on forever, and your weekends are spent basking in the sun, finding new places to explore, wandering the shops that neighbour the hardware store and beyond.

And then one day, everything changes.

You’re stood at the end of one of the aisles, fixing a stubborn display of plaster tubs that won’t stay upright, when you hear the bells over the door chime, announcing the arrival of a customer. You don’t stray far from the display, calling out a good morning! and returning to your work. Your sister is perched behind the register, flipping through an old magazine, and you hear the tell-tale squeak of work boots on the linoleum, the sound now all too familiar to your ears.

The boots move in your direction, but you pay the sound little mind until it grows closer. Most people who come into the store know what they’re looking for, and your parents had been careful to keep everything in the same aisles and shelves they’d been on for the past decade, so as to not disrupt the regular customers. From the corner of your eye, scuffed, dark boots step a little closer, and your eyes drag over from the display, taking in the man before you.

You try really hard not to let your eyes linger everywhere, but it’s hard. He’s…well, he’s hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, patchy facial hair that really shouldn’t work as well as it does. Long legs covered in dark jeans, a t-shirt that’s definitely seen better days and is straining against his broad shoulders and thick arms. It’s a classic look you’ve come to associate with every guy who works construction in Austin, but right off the bat, you know there’s something different about this one.

“Hi there,” he says, his southern drawl not as intense as some other folks you’ve talked to, but still there, coupled with a little quirk to his lips, an almost-smile that makes you instantly desperate to see the full thing.

“Hi,” you breathe out, curling your fingers around the metal shelving in front of you, abandoning the plaster display.

“I’m lookin’ for a quarter-inch drill bit,” he spits, nearly stuttering the request out. You’re stuck still for a moment, absolutely enamoured by the man before you. And it makes your own lips twitch, the way his cheeks flare red and he drops his gaze after a moment, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m also assuming you work here but I now realize you don’t have a name tag or anything so I’ll just—”

You clap a hand over your chest dramatically. “Shoot. Must have left the stupid thing in the back.” He lifts his head, eyes going wide, the almost-smile returning. “Follow me.”

He follows you like a little lost puppy a few aisles down from where you were standing. He’s taller than you, by nearly a head, those broad shoulders almost blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. You may or may not let your hips swing a little harder as you walk.

“Any specific brand you’re looking for?” you ask over your shoulder, coming to a stop in front of the pegboard that holds bits of all sorts of sizes. “Or just a quarter-inch?”

“As long as it fits in my drill,” he answers, and you turn to the board, scanning for the right size. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, and you’re basking in it. When you find the right one, you pluck it off the hook and hand it to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans after he takes it from you. “If it doesn’t fit, just bring it back and I’ll make sure you get the right one.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he looks between you and the little package a few times, tapping it against the flat of his palm. His lips part, like he’s about to say something, but then your sister calls your name and your head snaps up.

“Come on up to the front when you’re ready,” you say, feeling a little bold and touching his arm as you step past him, “and I’ll cash you out.”

He watches you walk away, too.

“I need coffee,” your sister declares as soon as you’re within view of the front counter. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, stepping behind the register, righting a cup of pens that’s fallen over. She slips down from the stool, flipping her magazine shut, and brushes past you, just as a now familiar deep voice reaches your ears.

“Thanks again,” tall, dark, and handsome says, approaching the counter with the drill bit and a tub of plaster from the display you’d been fixing in his hands. Your sister steps around him as he walks up, and turns to look at you over his shoulder, her jaw dropped, giving you two thumbs up. Your cheeks flare with heat, but you ignore it, taking the bit and the plaster when he sees them on the counter. “Are you new here?” he asks, and then rubs his hand up the back of his head, turning sheepish again. “Here being Austin, I mean. Haven’t seen you around before.”

You can’t help but grin back at him. “New-ish. Moved back at the beginning of the summer after I finished college. My parents took over this place after my grandfather died, and I can’t afford rent in the city, so here I am.” You ring up his purchase, tell him his total, and he fishes for his wallet, digging in the front pocket of his jeans. “For now, anyway.”

He presses his lips together as he pulls a twenty out of his wallet and hands it to you. “Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

You punch in the right amount, letting the register drawer hit your hip as it shoots open. “Maybe you will.” You hand him his change, and as you press the bills and coins into his waiting hand, you offer your name with it.

“Joel,” he says by way of answer, and your chest puffs a little with the knowledge. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your grin widens. “Well, you have yourself a good day, Joel Miller. Hope I see you soon.”

He takes the bit and the plaster and takes a step backwards, walking directly into a display stand holding rolls of bright green and blue painters tape, sending it toppling to the floor. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry,” he grumbles, and you step around the counter, dropping to your knees, catching the tape as it rolls in a million different directions.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him earnestly, righting the stand and getting back to your feet. “Now I have something to do.”

“You sure?” he asks, straightening, his cheeks burning red. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, again,” you laugh, gesturing towards the front door. “I’ll see you, Joel.”

“See you,” he replies, tacking your name onto the end, and you have to ignore the way the sound of your name on his lips sends a prickle up the back of your neck.

You watch as he walks out the door, the bell ringing again as he departs, getting into a pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days parked at the curb. He scrubs a hand over his face as he starts the engine, and then turns and looks at you through the glass, lifting a hand in a wave before he pulls away from the store. You lift your hand to return the farewell, and your sister walks through the door a moment later, two coffees in her hands, pushing one into your grip even though you said you didn’t want one. You sip it anyway.

“Who was that?” she asks, bumping her hip into yours.

“Joel Miller.”

+

He comes into the store nearly every day for a week. Always looking for something new, another drill bit or packages of nails and screws, a hammer, rolls of tape. He’s a carpenter, you learn, and goes bright red when you hint that must mean he’s good with his hands.

Your conversations are always brief, but sweet. He asks what you went to school for, admits he never got past a high school education, laughs when you tell him he seems to be doing pretty well for himself despite that. He shows up one morning with coffees for both you and your sister, and a box of doughnuts, earning a squeal from your sister and a bright thanks Joel from yourself. One afternoon, he’s in a hurry, having run out of drywall screws, cursing that he left his wallet at the job site, and you wave him off, all but pushing him out the door with a new box.

Then Monday rolls around, and you find yourself watching the door, waiting for the bell to signal his arrival. Every time the bell does ring, you jump, stepping out of whatever aisle you’re in, checking to see who’s walked inside. 

“I’m sure he’ll come by tomorrow,” your sister says when the clock hits two and there’s still no sign of him. “He’s probably just busy.”

“I know,” you say, brushing it off best you can.

The rest of the day passes like molasses, the minutes ticking by so slow you’re half sure the clock on the wall is broken. You even go so far as to check the batteries, earning a laugh from your sister. You curse yourself for flinching every time the door opens, doubly so when your father arrives to take over for the evening and you jump so hard you drop the stack of sandpaper boxes in your hands. “Sorry, honey,” he laughs, helping you pick up the boxes. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” you reply, putting the sandpaper on the right shelf before heading for the counter to grab your bag. “See you at home!”

Your father waves without looking, but calls your name before you can walk out the door. “Someone’s at the house, just so you know. Your mother’s home, of course, but I hired a guy to look at the back porch, asked him to fix the light in the hallway too.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to fix that yourself,” you joke with a smile, “since you own a hardware store and all?”

He just waves you off. “Get outta here.”

You laugh, pushing the door open, the bells jingling above your head as you step through. It’s just before dinner time, the sun starting to hang a little lower in the sky. The inside of your car feels like a sauna when you slide into the driver’s seat, and you blast the air conditioning, turning up the radio loud enough you can hear it over the noise. It’s a quick drive from the store to your house, and you’re too distracted by the song that’s playing on the radio to notice the rusty pick-up parked at the curb.

If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.

Your mother is sitting in the kitchen when you walk through the door, calling her hellos, and you dump your keys and bag before bee-lining for the bathroom. The house is all one level, one bathroom shared between the four of you, and you flick on the light, turn on the shower, strip down quickly. The warm water is a balm for the long day, the tension that had been sitting between your shoulders melting away beneath the spray.

You wrap yourself in a towel afterward, collecting your clothes from the floor before flicking the light off again. You’re still humming the song from the radio as you open the door, wiping a drop of water from your cheek and—

“Joel?”

“Shit!” he mumbles, dropping the screwdriver in his hand. He’s standing right outside the bathroom, balanced on a step-stool. Fixing the light; you remember what your father had said. You’re instantly flushed, starkly aware of the fact that you’re basically naked except for a towel, dripping water and your underwear is basically dangling from your hand. “I’m sor—fuck!” The stool wobbles and out of instinct, you grab for him, planting your hand on his stomach. He’s reaching over his head still, and the bottom of your hand meets bare skin, his t-shirt riding up slightly.

“You good?” you ask, pressing your lips together as he balances himself. You move your hand, carefully bending your knees and picking up the screwdriver from where it landed on the floor. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking it from you, jaw working as he chews the inside of his lip. His cheeks are as red as your whole body feels. “Sorry, I’m—”

“I should go!” you say quickly, and side-step him, bolting out of the bathroom doorway and straight into your bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. Your clothes tumble to the ground as soon as you’re inside, clapping a hand over your mouth as the towel nearly slips off of you. “Oh my god.”

+

You open the store by yourself the next day, your sister claiming she has the flu, your father with a golf game he can’t miss, and your mother with ‘far too many things to do around the house’. You don’t mind it; it’s usually quiet in the mornings, with the exception of the week of Joel, where he’d shown up at nine o’clock nearly on the dot each day.

Once your father got home last night, you’d all but interrogated him. Turns out, Joel had stopped by the store late the night before, walking in just before closing, and he and your dad got to talking. When the subject of the creaky back porch and the broken hallway light came up, Joel had offered his services, and your father had accepted.

A minute after you’ve flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door, a now-familiar pick-up truck pulls up to the parking spot outside the curb. You inhale sharply, nerves and embarrassment in your gut, and you turn away from the door, heading towards the counter, you back to the door as it jingles open.

Joel Miller calls your name. You nearly freeze, but continue your steps until you’re safely behind the counter. You hear his boots squeak on the floor as he approaches, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head until he’s standing right in front of you, saying your name again.

“Morning, Joel.”

“About yesterday,” he says instantly, a hand reached into the space between you, landing in a loose fist on the countertop. “I had no idea that you were—that it would—” He blows out a breath, ducking his head before meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry, is what I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Y’know, I usually make a man buy me dinner before he sees me half-naked,” you say, the line rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. Joel balks, and you clap a hand over your mouth, nervous giggles pouring out of you. “Oh my god, that was cheesy, I’m sorry. And it’s okay, for the record. I should have checked the hallway before I walked out.”

He laughs, you laugh, and the idea sparks in your mind. Your hands move of their own accord, reaching for a pen and a scrap of receipt paper. You scribble out your phone number, accompanied by a little smiley face after the last digit.

“Here,” you say, pushing the paper across the counter, nudging his hand with your own. “Why don’t you take this, and maybe we can see each other someplace besides the paint aisle or outside my bathroom.” When he doesn’t answer right away, that sick feeling of rejection crawls up your throat, and you nearly snatch the paper back. “Or we could just pretend it never happened.”

“Can’t do that,” he murmurs, and his voice is so low and inviting you can’t help but lean across the counter slightly. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall and he curses under his breath. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” He grabs the paper, folding it up and tucking it into the pocket on his t-shirt. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, nodding, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he touches his hand to yours, fingers glancing over your wrist before he pulls away. He steps backward again, eyes not leaving yours. Thankfully there’s no display in his path for him to topple over, but he only looks away when he reaches the door, that almost-smile you’ve been chasing since the first day you met spreading into a full-blown grin that sends butterflies shooting through your stomach. “Bye, Joel.”

“Bye,” he replies, your name a near-whisper afterward.

As soon as the door shuts, the tinkle of bells echoing, you slump across the counter with a squeal. The bells ding again a second later, and you shoot upright, schooling your face into a normal-looking smile and greeting the customer that’s just walked through the door.

+

It’s nearly ten o’clock that night, when your phone rings.

You’re lounging in bed, a book propped against your knees, Sheryl Crowe crooning out of your stereo. The robotic ring makes you jump, and you hit the answer button quickly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late,” Joel says, and you smile, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Had a long day, and I almost didn’t call, but I really wanted to.”

“I’m glad you did,” you reply, letting the book fall shut on your lap. “What made your day so long?”

It’s easy conversation, the two of you chatting for a good hour. He talks about the job site he’s been working at, his brother that works with him, how his truck nearly broke down when he went to leave, making him late to get home. The call only comes to an end when you’re both making each other yawn, mumbling apologies every time.

“I should let you get some sleep,” Joel nearly whispers, his voice so soft through the phone you barely hear it. “Didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” you quip, rolling onto your side, keeping the phone pressed to your ear. “But I like talking to you, just for the record.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Just for the record.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask, faking shock. He laughs.

“Nah, I just like the way you talk, darlin’,” he says, and the pet name makes you shiver. “I’ll let you go.”

“You didn’t ask,” you say quickly, and he pauses, dead air on the line for a moment.

“What?”

“I said you could make it up to me,” you tell him, rolling onto your back, glancing out the window at the moon, big and white in the dark sky. “That was your opening to ask me out.”

Another pause, and you’re holding your breath, chewing your lip.

“Have dinner with me on Friday?”

You hum, beaming into the phone. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Joel barks a laugh, the biggest one you’ve gotten out of him yet, and you smile harder. “You’re trouble.”

“You’re the one having dinner with me,” you shoot back, and he laughs again, softer this time. “Goodnight, Joel.”

You can tell he’s still smiling. “Goodnight.”

NEXT

[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.

[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.

[raini-day]

I started keeping a reading log this month! For better or worse I ended up reading a lot more than usual but I manged to keep track of most of it 🌟These are ordered roughly by how much I enjoyed reading them at the time of reading

Some reccs from this month:

Or Something Like it

Kinaho lived alone until one day, her boyfriend Akito brought with him two young relatives: a pair of brothers who had just lost their parents. All at once, Kinaho finds herself living under one roof with not just Akito, but serious-to-a-fault eighth grader Toma and innocent five-year-old Haruhi. As the days pass in confusion, this group starts to forge a new relationship: a family… or something like it.

I always enjoy series that deal with people processing death + unusual family dynamics. I'm already enjoying the characters just from reading volume 1 and am looking forward to seeing more how their relationships develop!

2. Magmell Shinkai Suizokukan

A tale about a modern deep-sea aquarium employee in Tokyo! What's living in the overwhelming darkness deep within the sea? Take a glimpse into this strange world about a boy working at a deep sea aquarium.

This series has suuuuch lovely art, if you enjoy deep sea fish you'll enjoy this. I've only read volume 1 so far, and there's not been a whole ton of character exploration but it does seem to be setting up some interesting plot threads for the future.

3. Ari no Manma no Anata

Kaede, a young woman, has given herself a much more masculine haircut. Despite her insistence that it was merely out of her own preference, she still receives some hassle for it. On her way home from work, frustrated, she stumbles upon Yoshino, a battered young woman - and one that seems to have had problems with men….

wow, lesbians <3 cute oneshot about women standing up for each other + super cute butch protagonist, love to see it. It's the subtle things that have put this one so high on my list.

4. The Duke's Daughter Drops Her Engagement and Facade

After being publicly dumped by her fiancé, the Crown Prince Lombard, the duke's daughter Christiana appears unshaken. Despite being educated to be a refined noblewoman and the perfect queen, she has always harbored a different dream—to become Lombard's knight. Now, with the engagement off, she finally has the chance to pursue her true calling.

One for the villainess enjoyers! Setting aside the extreme trans guy vibes Chris gives off, I like this series because Chris's attitude towards her ex-fiance is pretty unique among series of this genre. It's very 'you gave up on me, but won't give up on you. you're still a good friend who I care about'. Considering that and their past relationship I'm curious to see what happened to change it so much!

5. Correspondence from the End of the Universe

Russian recent college graduate Marko is looking forward to traveling the world with his lover. However, he is abducted by a mysterious being to the end of the universe, ruining his plans. That mysterious being assigns Marko a ten-year mission. All Marko can do is give his all to the mission and befriend his alien coworkers. This is the peculiar story depicting life in a place far removed from Earth.

I'm a big fan of this kind of extremely whimsical sci-fi, so far my favorite aliens are the ones that eat the emotions of people eating. I really like the art and designs too, looking forward to seeing where this series goes!

6. Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko!

Soft and bubbly office lady Ayaka is madly in love with her senior at work, Hiroko! Two lovestruck coworkers who both think the other is straight totally crush on each other…

Unstoppable force (lesbian who will pull out all stops to flirt with her crush) x immovable object (lesbian who thinks 'wow straight women are so affectionate towards their friends nowadays') It's a pretty simple classic premise, which lets the characters and their troubles shine through all the better.

[hetr0ph0bic]

bestie

heyyy yall ! SEND ME REQS

2.5k+

summary : riri bestie come to wakanda and shuri is kinda selfish

its mature they not hunching frfr

 the fits if you need a visual/ want 

riri https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/d9/2f/1ad92f47b48b21361a2b6a77fd7c03ef.jpg

shuri https://i.pinimg.com/564x/2b/d2/2e/2bd22ea92a6aff5a0169d25c2cdaa8f4.jpg

ray https://www.instagram.com/p/CkSHQj3sAL3/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

and i posted 2 times this week stop play with me. also the bestie is bdtrelilbrother from tictok i love him down .i never tried anything like this fr, yall know this only my second fic so give tips in shit i neeeed it!!!!! also this can be a part to i think i got a couple ideas!

---------

riri looks up from the board she is writing on. in the lab, she’s making updates to shuri’s panther suit.

“hey baby” shuri peeks up at the call

“ remember my friend is coming into town for this week he’s staying for like 2 days. i’ve got a list of things planned for us. you can always join” she smiles turning back to the board.

“knowing you get clingy and jealous as hell” she mutters to herself

“what I do not, I’m not clingy! have fun with your little friend.” shuri tells the lie so smoothly. riri rolls her eyes at the tale

“ oh, you don’t? wanna bet? I think I had seen some shoes I wanted” shuri tutts her

“ you can scam them lil college students, but you can’t scam me” she ends with booping her nose.

days pass by rapidly

riri’s heals clack with the materials of the landing deck. she walks up to the landing shuttle. okoye pops out of the aircraft with her bestie ray trucking behind her.

“ ms. willams I’ve delivered your weird, talkative friend”

“fast and safely thankyou, thankyou, general”

black pants sagging, white tee, white air force 1’s and a shiny necklace on his neck. sticking out like a sore thumb. a classic african american in wakanda. in his left hand is his large suitcase.  

finally, they spot each other. ray drops in suitcase immediately, they run and capture each other in a warm embrace. holding each other tight with arms wrapped around each other. unaware to the two shuri is spying above, looking out from the lab window.

‘they don’t have to hug for that long’ shuri sneers out

“ bitchhh you look good” the two down below, began to catch up.

“ no, ray literally missed you so much them calls just wasn’t cutting it no more” riri wipes a dry tear from her clear eyes.

“i knowwww! okay so I look good now, where are we going” ray spins around showing off his outfit

“yeahh, head to show wakanda how we get’s down, yeahhh” a nasty giggle is delivered from the two.

“okay, wait. so first I’m hungry so food, and then after that we can come back change and go out to the club” on queue riri stomach marks a monstrous growl.

“oooooo you got it all planned out for lil ole me” ray is jumping at squealing.

“ but..” riri causes him to stop jumping

“ I did invite shuri with us, she is always cooped up in her lab and I want her to bond with you also.” she nervously says.

“oh girl you had me stressed! yeah I’m down with the queen for sure” “do she know how to party tho?” he whispers, with a nasty smirk riri nods her head.

“umm she can party forsure , hopefully she just has the strength to get out of the lab”

“girl you know what! keep them lil nasty thoughts for later you have to tell me  everything later about you and the fucking QUEEN”

they enter the palace, going to ray's guess room

“ oh my god, bitch , this my room?!?”

“ uhh yea something wrong”

“ nah it’s giving black luxury!!! giving i needa find me a lil wakandan man so I can settle down here” he drags out, causing a series of laughter to erupt from the room. they put away the items and head out for food.

“okay so I know you love your nigerian food but we just gonna go by the vibes tonight” riri states while playing with her gifted personal beads

“yeah, I’ll buss it down for sum greens, ANY TIME AND DAY! plus I don’t want to get anything I can get back at home.”  he speaks while looking over to what riri is playing with.

finally getting her beads to corporate “ hey baby me and raymonte finna head out for some dinner, after we eat we was thinking about coming back here and getting dressed to go out to the club. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes. also, if you're going let me know! bye, love you.”

pointing to the kimoyo beads, “friend why is you taking to yo bracelet”

“oh these my kimoyo beads i can do a whole bunch with them. video call, regular call, record, do the lil cpr thing with them” ray pokes the beads.

“ oh okay I knew you said wakanda has technological advancements but dang”

“ yeah just wait till you see the rest of the city”

they exit the palace heading to the maglev train.

“ ri where the fuck the rails at omg”

“ ray get on the fucking train please. even if I did explain how it works, you still gone be confused.”

“ I ain’t even mad, you know me so well, I missed you so bad.”

they finally reach the city floor, orange skies complemented the tall building and buzzing streets.

“ you know wakanda give new york but like… without all the bad shit.”

“what the hell is you talking about”

“ new york like the best state kinda right, everyone loves new york. but they got high ass rent, trash, bugs, terrible homes everything is so much for lackluster. wakanda is just like new york but make it no bad shit oh and african- girl why it’s a whole mexican pop up thingy” riri just listens as her friend talks rambles on and on.

“oh since shuri made an alliance with the man namor”

“ wait the the bitch who was tryna murk you??”

“ yeah him, the talokans really like wakanda so some of them bring their food over here so yeah, but wakanda ain’t completely cut off we got food from like every african country and even soul food”

“ oh snap so they still knew the world, but was hiding from it ??? crazy”

“uhhhh yeah and yeah kbbq”

“ohhh okay well ms international want to share a torta?”

“ they got a wakanda inspired one, this beans, meat, and cheese different”

they order the food, sharing the sandwich while exploring the golden city. they stop and see different neighborhoods and downtown and malls.

soon rays legs start hurting so the exploring is cut short.

“ girl, wait, pause, my feet thobbin i need lay down”

“oh look here go the train just in time” they hop onto the maglev making their way to the palace. stepping into the entrance ray goes to his room to rest up and to get dressed, riri goes up to check on shuri. trotting into the lab,she finds it empty, still thinking her lover could be in there, she enters even further.

“shuri you in here” silence greats her.

‘hmm, maybe she’s in her room’

quickly reaching the room, she greats the queen.

“hey baby I’ve been looking for you”

“oh I was up here I stopped working a little early, how was the food?” shuri kisses the small girls forehead pulling her into her lap on the bed.

“ good we shared a torta. sooo that means you coming out with us?”

“uhhh I don’t know all about your friend”

“what baby, you never even met him”

“I’m just saying he’s really close and touch with you” riri gives a look to shuri

“see! I want my money I knew you was gone do this” shuri rolles her eyes at her

“yeah whatever I'm not going” shuri pushes riri off her lap trying to get under the covers. riri goes into the closet pulling out a dress.

“oh baby calm down, that’s just how we are. you have literally nothing to worry about I promise. this is a person that means a lot to me. he’s closer than family.” riri finishes as she slips up the short dress, “can you zip me up”

“wha what your wearing … that” shuri stares at her blankly

“umm yeah? it just a dress you should get dressed” picking up her phone riri calls ray

“are you ready”

“ yeah i’m puting on my shoes right now.”

“okay let me see the fit.” ray turns the camera around towards the full body mirror.

“okay lil gangsta” rounds of high pitch yeahhhs are said.

“yeahhhh”

“yeahhhh! you look good real bad”

“oh ooo lemme see you” shuri is already on edge. riri props the phone up on a dresser and backs away giving a 360

“my GAWD you big booty bit-” shuri slams the phone down ending the call.

“shuri… for real? why you do that” riri says with big pout

“ really…” shuri rolls her eyes at riri’s confusion. shuri zips up her low rise jeans, ready to go.

“you're deadass giving him a 360, I need you, to be for real” riri sends a text message

��meet me at the club, and go with one of the doras’ she then drops the location  

shortly riri and shuri are walking up to the club. shuri’s arm rest around riri’s waist as they walk in. the club atmosphere is surrounded with yellows and browns.

“want a drink love”

“yeah baby and can u get ray some shots of tequila” hesitating she agrees.

the scientist stalks around the club looking for the man, once she spots him she waved him over.

“girl let’s go dance”  ray damn near yanks riri out of her heals to her dance floor.

the club is loud, lights bright, speakers blasting music. songs switch fast, at first freak hoe by speaker knockers is blaring. ray naturally turns around to riri and dances on her. creating a small crowd to hype him up. shuri is on her way back to the spot she left riri originally. spotting all the commotion, she makes her way to the dance floor. people naturally parting ways once they look up and see its shuri that’s cutting through. before she reaches the two, ray is still dancing on riri. then the song changes again and city girls is playing, the two irrupt screams.

“do it baby stick it baby suck up on that” riri screams

“WHATTT” ray answers

“until that”

“WHATT”

“hickey baby” they both scream the lyrics in sync, adding their own twist to the song.

riri then begins to dance on ray, in return he catches her as she did to him. riri dress rides up a bit and ray goes to pull it down.

“hold up bookie your dress”

shuri then closes the remaining distance, stepping into riri’s front line of vision. the younger head shoots up at the touch.

“ oh hey baby, ray this is shuri, shuri this is ray”

“heeey miss queen” shuri’s eyebrows rise to the top of her forehead, she didn’t expect him

to be so nice, but she is still pissed.

‘maybe riri was right, well we will see’

“hello good to finally meet you ray, you know since you stole my girlfriend away from me” she passes all the drinks around.

“shuri stop” riri smacks her arm.

ray give a loud cackle, “ms shuri you could have joined us earlier when we went and got some food. i never wanna steal her away from you, even though she was and is my first.”

shuri tries to bite her tongue, but she can't hold back.

“yeah, that’s cute, but I’m who she belongs to, so now what.”

shuri snakes her arm around riri’s waist, causing her dress to ride up. sensing that she then places a hand on her ass giving it a squeeze.

“OOOOO you said she was pressure, BUT GOOD GAWD” ray and riri giggle and geek over shuris possessiveness.

they dance all night, the queen finally letting loose for real. the club is jumping, the room to move gets smaller and smaller. after a few rounds of drinks and shots riri starts to feel the effects. Rihanna’s work seeps into the loudspeakers. as work plays riri grinds her hips on shuri. she turns around placing her hands on her knees fully loosing any shame or decorum. they dance to the beat, as ray tells them he’s going to the bar. riri turns around to put her hands around the queen's shoulder. out the corner of her eye she spots ray. her best friend is seen talking to some tall guy with muscles the too leaning on the bar. she is pulled away from her nosy antics by shuri.

“your lucky i love you for real.”

“I know I’m very lucky, but what made you think that this time”

“your dance on your little friend”

“love it’s my body I can dance on whom I want” they still continue to dance despite the weight on the conversation. work fades in quickie by Miguel.

“I understand that, but it’s just like, why she can’t dance with me, I’m her girlfriend. I’m the one who can make you scream, nobody else can.” shuri tightens the hold on riri’s waist.

“you are mine love, you know I don't sharing what mine love.” the queen snakes her hands down to riri’s core, delivering light touches. she knows the little drivers her insane, continuing, she rubs her clothes clit in circles. riri leans her head back on shuri’s shoulder, releasing moans that the music hungrily swallows. shuri front to riri’s ass, she persists putting the girl through hell, riri can’t wait to rip off her tight dress. the night slowly comes to an end, the boy and the couple slowly walks back to the palace.

“girl wakanda party a lil too hard for lil ole me” the group cackled

“nahh, but I did see that man you was talking to at the bar”  

“you always been so noisy, stay otta grown folks business”

“but nah I never got his number, I don’t know if he forgot or that’s just wakanda’s customs”

“It's not”

“well damn, I guess that's it for that then”

they enter the train platform and ray bumps into someone “ooop sorry bookie.”

ray looks up and see it’s the guy from the bar from. feet away, the couple sees them exchange numbers and socials. shocked and amazing at the perfect timing.

walking back to the couple “yeah, yeah! better hind your mans raymonte outside y’all”

they ride the train, walking into the palace.

“oops sorry bookie” shuri repeats in her accent tears in her eyes.

the couple head up to their room. while stripping off her dress riri sparks the conversation back up again.

“but what makes you act that way, you know I love you”

“yeah, but it just doesn’t feel good being selfish. I know it's irrational, but I do try.”

“plus, I just met ray and I thought he was some straight man trying to steal you away!!”

“first of all good thing we both gay” riri laughs at shuri’s misunderstanding.  

“and also you really thought I’m gonna give up you! YOU! wakanda, the relationships I’ve built her for some man… ewww!” riri slips out of the dress heading to the shower, shuri in tow.

“even if I was into men, he can’t do nothing. somebody that can’t even cook noodles right ? somebody that calls me when he gets scared of spiders and shit.” riri pulls the nob for the hot water to turn on.

“wow that’s crazy but not too much on bookie okay!” they giggle as their bodies become clean with the soapy suds.

[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

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Whenever

Listen the Ajax & Patroclus friendship lives almost entirely in my mind but together they are absolute clowns so this snippet is long.

~

“Alright, this was a weird and almost-funny reason to get me over for dinner, but can we cut the shit?”

Pat stares at him. “What?”

“You win for weirdest joke you’ve ever played on me. Kudos for just how deeply he’s chosen to commit to the bit, but can you just invite your new, very jacked, very theatrical boyfriend in here so we can have dinner and I can meet him normally?”

Pat continues staring. “He’s not… this isn’t… Why do you think it’s a joke? What did he say?”

“Almost nothing that I could understand. But 'Achileas?' Really? You should have gone with a different name. I might have played along longer.”

“What do you mean? Who is Ahi… whatever?”

Ajax folds his arms over his chest. “You’re really committed to this, too, then. Fine. Achileas. It comes from the same story as my name. And yours. Come on, Pat, you might be allergic to all things Greek, but I know even you know the name ‘Achilles’ and you can’t have expected me to let that slide.”

The name does ring a bell or two. “One of those demigods,” he says. “The boring one. Didn’t get to fight any monsters. He fought, what, Trojans? With the horse?”

“It’s hard to believe your degree wasn’t in classics sometimes.”

“Well, alright, you recognized the name; you tell me, then. What’s the story? What did he do?”

“I have no idea. I majored in football at college. But I do know Ajax, Achilles, Patroclus, and even your little dog Helen are all from the same ancient tale.”

“You think the dog is in on this? She came with that name.”

Little Helen lifts her head at this and sets herself to begging at Ajax.

“Give it up, Pat. Let it go. Let’s just eat. Achileas!” Ajax calls down the hall. “The jig is up. There's dinner in it for you if you tell me your real name.”

The stranger walks in slowly, still in his toga with Pat’s blanket thrown around his shoulders, eyes once again red-rimmed from crying.

Pat turns back to Ajax. “I understand this is coming from someone who plucked a babbling, crying man off the street and left him in my living room all day, but do you really think I would introduce a boyfriend to you like this?” Pat asks, gesturing with one outstretched hand at the weepy, hot mess he still has no idea what to do with. “It’s like you said, I’m allergic to all things Greek.” He eyes this ‘Achilles’ up and down. “A Greek-spewing demigod cosplayer is about as Greek as it gets, in really weird way that I am deeply not into.”

“He doesn’t speak Greek,” Ajax says.

“Oh.” That would explain the confusion then. Bad translator. Everything Achilles said was pure gibberish anyway, so Pat should have figured that out sooner. It must be a language that can be mistaken for Greek, like Spanish and Portuguese can be mistaken for each other. He feels oddly relieved about that.

But then Ajax goes on to say, “He speaks ancient Greek.” He turns to Achilles. “They should have taught you in your classes that they are not the same, and you wouldn’t fool anyone with this weird act.”

If Achilles understands, he doesn’t react. 

“You’re sure it’s ancient Greek?” Pat asks.

Ajax nods. “I know a few words here and there.”

“Well then can you ask him where he wants to go? Where he lives? God, Ajax, it’s not a joke. I just want to send him home.”

“No.”

“No?”  

“No. If Beowulf walked in here right now, would you be able to have a conversation with him?”

“No.”

Ajax jerks his thumb at Achilles. “Greek Beowulf right there. You’re going to need a classicist if you want to get anything out of him." He adds under his breath, "Or he could just stop fucking around.”

Pat slumps into a chair and drops his face into his hands. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do with him now?” he moans.

Maybe Ajax is wrong. Maybe his Greek is worse than he let on. He thought this would be the least painful way to help the stranger, but maybe it’s time to bring him to a hospital or a police department. The pit of his stomach clenches just thinking about it. He doesn’t think he can do it. It doesn’t seem like the right idea.

“This really isn’t a joke?” Ajax asks. “You really don’t know this guy? He just showed up at your work?”

Pat shakes and nods his head without looking up. Ajax puts a hand on his shoulder, and when he speaks again, he sounds furious.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he demands. Pat lifts his head up now to see Achilles, not at all intimidated by what was frankly a scary tone of voice. All seven feet of Ajax is bristling at the stranger, and he points at him and says, “You need to leave. Whatever this is, it isn’t funny.”

[popentertainmentconcertreviews]

Big Star – Ardmore Music Hall – Ardmore, PA – December 6, 2022

Perhaps you’ve heard the legend. An unknown rock band puts out a debut album on an imprint on of a record label more well-known for rhythm-based artists. The album gets good critical buzz, but only sells a handful of copies. The group releases a follow-up, which also barely makes a ripple. Members of the band split off, and the third release turns out to be essentially a solo album by the original lead singer.

The albums start showing up in record store cutout bins. They still don’t do all that well, but it seems that just about everyone who buys their records ends up starting their own band. And years after the band had broken up, they became a cult favorite band, beloved by a passionate base.

No, we’re not telling the story of the Velvet Underground. Well, okay it is the VU’s story, but it is also the tale of Big Star. The Memphis foursome, made up of former Box Tops lead singer Alex Chilton, guitarist Chris Bell, bassist Andy Hummel and drummer Jody Stephens, put together a sweet and spicy sound, mixing rock and swooning ballads and becoming one of the first power pop bands.

It has now been 50 years since the release of the debut album #1 Record, which has become considered a bit of a lesser-known classic, as did the second album Radio City. Guitarist Bell left the band to go solo after the release of Radio City, although his solo album I Am the Cosmos was not released until after his 1978 death in a car crash. Hummel also left the band after Radio City to finish college, eventually working for Lockheed Martin for decades before his death of cancer in 2010.

Chilton and Stephens reunited in 1993 and toured on and off for many years until Chilton had a fatal heart attack, also in 2010. Stephens returned to his day job – running Ardent Records, the formerly Stax-distributed label that Big Star had recorded for all those years earlier. It seemed like Stephens would never play the music again, until he announced this limited 50th anniversary tour celebrating the band.

However, this isn’t just the case of a classic band touring with one surviving member and a bunch of kids young enough the be the sons (or grandsons) of the original artists. For the Big Star 50 tour, members of some of the most respected alt-rock bands of the 90s – and all Big Star fans – came together to make up the rest of the band. These included Mike Mills (of REM), Pat Sansone (of Wilco), Chris Stamey (of the dBs) and Jon Auer (of the Posies).

In fact, Auer (and his former Posies cohort Ken Stringfellow) had toured with Chilton and Stevens in the revamped Big Star on and off from 1993 to 2010, when Chilton died. They even did a 2005 album together called In Space. (Stringfellow is no longer involved with Auer or Big Star due to fall out from a series of 2021 sexual abuse allegations.) Therefore, Auer has been playing this music well longer than half of the original Big Star members ever did.

And the other new “band” members here obviously had the chops and the love for the music to make this show rock. There was also a guest appearance for this show on two songs by Adam Weiner, lead singer of the band Low Cut Connie.

The concert was split into two acts. First, they played the entirety of the #1 Record album – in order. Then after a brief intermission they came back and played a bunch of fan favorites – a great deal of which came from Radio City, but they also did some cool unexpected rarities – including a simply gorgeous version of Bell’s solo single “I Am the Cosmos.”

All five musicians (six if you count special guest Weiner, who played on two songs and sang one) traded off on lead vocals and instruments. Band favorites like “Don’t Lie to Me,” “Ballad of El Goodo” and “Jesus Christ” sounded fantastic, peaking with a stellar version of “September Gurls” featuring Mills on vocals.

Still, to this day, it’s a complete mystery that this band never became huge. At least we got the opportunity to bask in their stellar songbook for one more night.

Copyright ©2022 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: December 10, 2022.

Photos by Jay S. Jacobs © 2022. All rights reserved.

[starleska]

Hey pal just wanted to ask: do you have any articles or more info on the whole "getting Shreked" situation that was happening during Shrek's production? I've seen several people say that animators who weren't performing well enough were sent to work on Shrek, but I haven't seen anyone actually link a source or say anything more about it (and Google isn't helping). It just sounds so bizarre and hilarious that I'd love to know more about this. Like, why did they all send them to work on Shrek specifically? Why was Shrek predicted not to be profitable? Why was Shrek apparently the lowest of the low work? And how the hell is it such a great movie if it was made largely by people who were seen as underperforming? So many questions

hey there lovely!! :3c thanks so much for sending this my way - i'd be happy to provide you with sources!! with this kind of revelation it's very easy for lots of folk to just parrot one another without citing the original sources. here you go:

the central claim of the 'getting Shreked' punishment comes from writer and journalist Nicole LaPorte, who wrote 'The Rules of Hollywood' column for the LA Times Magazine as well as a number of other publications, including The New Yorker and New York Times.

LaPorte wrote a book called 'The Men Who Would Be King: An Almost Epic Tale of Moguls, Movies, and a Company Called Dreamworks'. in this book it is claimed that animators who failed on other projects (specifically 'The Prince of Egypt') were 'Shreked' or sent to 'The Gulag' to work on Shrek. LaPorte cites her sources as being animators who worked at DreamWorks.

in her article for the New York Post, journalist Susannah Cahalan reports that 'Shrek' was viewed as a low-budget endeavour, and that the 'Propellerheads' sent to work on it (largely college graduates) were doing something 'inferior' compared to the 2D animators. presumably this is because of when Shrek was being developed - 3D animation had yet to take off in a big way, and there was serious pretension around the superiority of hand-drawn, 2D animation, especially compared to motion-capture work.

William Steig's 'Shrek!' wasn't considered the most thematically rich material, either - placed alongside the epic Biblical narrative of 'The Prince of Egypt', DreamWorks at large had no idea what a success Shrek would become.

in general, the development of 'Shrek' was troubled with a lot of writers and actors changing hands during the process - for instance, 'Shrek' was originally supposed to be Chris Farley, not Mike Myers. Farley died during the project, and journalist Jim Hill gives a more thorough overview into the difficult production of Shrek and the eventual casting of Myers.

you can understand why this production hell led to such a biting, cynical, fresh take on the classic fairy tale story with serious disdain for 'perfection' in all of its forms!! i think the movie is great because it is made up of people shoved right to the bottom of the barrel who weren't allowed to exercise their creative talents in the big leagues...they found themselves unrestricted, and that helped hugely. you could be axed for a simple mistake on a huge film, but at the time, no one cared about 'Shrek'!

hope that helps 🥰💖 there will be some lovely, much cleverer people out there than i who can help fill in the gaps 😉

[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.