#i think i looked up vague reference for the dress and then said fuck it

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚖𝚊 - 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍) 𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft mommy kink(not femdom), creampie, lactation kink, nipple play

��𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Naruto or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 1,968

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest, underage(17), Reader being called Mommy, creepy voyeurs and (unmentioned save for a tiny reference towards the end, fairly easily ignored) infidelity, No use of Y/n, 1st person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Generally vague setting, so you can imagine this taking place wherever and it’s kinda mini-AU ig? Menma is more of just a (really) bad boy instead of straight-up evil and he’s living in the village as Minato’s son, still got that sexy black hair tho😌

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

I looked down at my stepson who happily lapped at my leaking nipple. His eyes closed in bliss as he wrapped his lips around me and sucked wantonly, his fingers deftly playing with my other nipple, occasionally unfurling to grope at my entire breast which brought a sighed moan to my lips.

“Oh, you’re doing so good, baby.. So good for mommy..” I moaned out, working my hand into his pants to pull out his weeping cock. Menma moaned around my tit as I worked his shaft, making sure to rub my thumb over his leaking tip, spreading his pre-cum over my hand to make it easier to jerk him off. I looked up from my stepson and made eye contact with a man who was eyeing my tits with envy. I gave a small huff of amusement before looking him up and down, unimpressed, before looking back down at Menma.

The ravenette opened his eyes and looked right up into mine as I gave him a sultry smile. He smirked around my tit before playfully nibbling on my bud earning a cut off moan at the sensation. As another spurt of milk shot into his mouth, I sighed at the relief from my overfull breasts.

“C’mere, mommy,” the emphasis he said the new title with sent a jolt of pleasure straight to the heat between my legs as he lifted off my breast, sliding his hand up my chest to the side of my neck to pull me forward. I met him in a heated kiss, our tongues clashing wetly and I could taste my milk in his mouth and it only made him taste even sweeter. “You taste so fuckin’ good. I wanna feel you.” He muttered into my mouth as he kept invading me with his tongue.

“Oh fuck, please, baby..” I whimpered into him. He smirked at my submission and shifted to get into a position to hoist me into his lap. As he manhandled me, I got a glimpse around us and saw at least 5 men watching us, including the man from before who, entirely unabashedly, had his hand in his pocket to jerk himself off.

Once I was situated in Menma’s lap, I felt him sliding his cock head through my slick folds as he unhooked the clasp of my wrap dress and helped me shrug it off, leaving me entirely exposed. I circled my hips in anticipation as he nudged the head of his cock against my clit, earning a moan. I planted a hand on his shoulder to steady myself and used the other one to guide his head back to my chest where he gladly took a nipple into his mouth again and began to suckle.

“Fuck, baby… Oh, that feels so good… Oh, you’re doing so good for mommy.” I sighed and raked my fingers through his hair as I sank down on his cock.

“Damn, you think she’d be my mommy if I asked real nicely?” The crude voice of one of the men watching made me grimace but I turned my attention back to my stepson who greedily sucked and lapped at my milky tits.

“Nah, man, bet you gotta do your chores first,” I rolled my eyes at the joke and only focussed on rolling my hips against Menma’s.

“Fuck, Mommy.. You feel so fucking good. Taste so good, too.” His smooth voice vibrated against my skin and I looked down and met his eyes as he glanced up from his place and latched onto my chest.

“Thank you, baby… You fill me up so good..” I spoke with a moan lacing my words as I stroked my hand through his hair and started moving my hips more up and down on his length. My stepson lightly grazed my sensitive nipple with his teeth and it brought a gasp out of me from the shock and the sudden feeling. I felt him smirk against my skin and when I looked down I saw him looking up at me with a cocky gleam in his eye. To say it turned me on even more would be a massive understatement.

“Seriously, man, look at her, she’s the definition of a MILF!” I glanced at our little audience and I saw that they had dared to get closer, 3 of them closer than the rest and by the sound of it, the ones who made those comments.

“Baby, if you wouldn’t mind…” I looked down at my stepson lovingly with the unfinished request hanging in the air for just a moment before he pulled away from my tit with a wet ‘pop’. With a smirk, he leaned up captured my lips in a heated, passionate kiss and his tongue fully invaded my mouth, nearly driving me crazy.

“Of course, Mommy,” He pulled away and summoned just a bit of Kurama’s chakra to release a burst of wind around us to shove them all back. He didn’t force them entirely away from us, the voyeurism still excited us and spurred his vigorous actions. Using even that small bit of Kurama’s chakra made his nails slightly extend into claws and his eyes flash red as he gazed at me with his cocky smirk which also revealed his extended k-9s.

His nails dug into my hip as he encouraged me to keep bouncing on his hard cock. Happily, I complied as his other hand returned to my hip to grip at the flesh. His lips caught my swollen bud once again and he suckled more as he groaned at my cunt squeezing around him. His sharpened features receded but his iron grip on my hips remained.

I moaned whilst Menma sucked wantonly at my sensitive nipple and used his grip on my sides to add momentum to my hips crashing down to meet his. His dick plunged deep inside of me and slammed right into my sweet spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through my entire body. I cried out in pleasure as my climax washed over me. As I trembled and shook in ecstasy, Menma didn’t stop his movements.

He sucked at my tit until he could only get a small trickle of my milk. He groaned in protest as he continued to suckle on the drained teat. With trembling hands and a shaky coo at my raven-haired stepson, I gently pulled him from my chest and placed a wet kiss on his lips. He growled possessively into my mouth and kept on with his motions of assisting my hips up and down on his length. When we separated our mouths, I guided him to my other breast which felt entirely too full with the other having been drained by my gluttonous lover.

“My poor mommy, you must feel so full, huh?” He feigned sympathy as he nipped my boob just beside my hard nipple. My eyes, still hazy from my high, silently pleaded with him to take care of me and, with his cock still sliding in and out of my creamy pussy, he couldn’t resist. He laved over my nipple and wet my breast with his drool before he latched on and sucked with earnest.

The men surrounding us were still a bit vocal, though they weren’t quite as crude as before and certainly not as loud as to distract me from my stepson. He seemed to appreciate it as well, happily lapping and suckling on my breast without interruption while he used his strength to keep my hips’ momentum. His grip tightened whilst I could feel his cock twitch inside me, his pace only faltering for a split second. He was getting close but he was holding off his orgasm.

“Ooh, baby,” I cooed, “you’re close, aren’t you? Go ahead and cum inside me, cum inside mommy.” I spoke through breathy moans as he seemed to suck harder, just this side of almost painful. He let out a low growl denying that he cum yet.

My hand rushed to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair as I gently indicated to be more gentle. Silently— other than the grunting moans against my skin— he relented on his harsh suction and gently lapped at my bud in apology. In turn, I used the strength I had regained in my legs to move myself up and down on his cock. With my assistance, he was able to release one of his hands and slide it up my body to grope and squeeze at the breast he was suckling on.

With each squeeze, another spurt of warm milk rushed into his mouth. His eyes rolled back with a groan as he happily swallowed it down. My tit was slowly reducing its swell with Menma emptying my chest, thusly relieving the pressure of being so full.

Rather, while he emptied my chest, he filled me up in another way. The reminder of that hit with every time his cock bottomed out inside me. He reached so deep inside me. Not quite reaching the deepest parts of me, but full nonetheless. That was also inconsequential when I had a solution for those last few inches, so I had that absolute fullness and indulgence in my more.. risqué desires.

I felt my second climax quickly approaching and I felt Menma involuntarily bucking his hips up to meet mine as he sucked my other breast nearly empty. His hand roughly but carefully squeezing my tit released and returned down my body to my waist where he steeled his grips. The men around us became more vocal again, groaning and making other lewd noises that I could only vaguely acknowledge.

My focus was on my stepson and our looming climaxes. With his firm grip on my waist, Menma slammed me down on his cock and met with harsh bucks of his hips. His cock dragged along the spongy spot inside me and ended with slamming directly into my g-spot in one fluid motion. I screamed as my second orgasm ripped through me and had me gushing for a second time around his dick.

I vaguely recognized Menma sucking me dry before he released my nipple as his own orgasm hit. He clenched his teeth as he looked up at me with an intense gaze while he filled me up. His cum spurt into my spasming walls and filled me to the brim with warmth that spread to my belly. His fingers dug into my sides as he held my ass firmly against his lap while he finished.

He raised a hand to the back of my neck and pulled me down to meet him in a heated kiss. I could taste my sweet milk on his tongue and it sent one last wave of pleasure to my core. The men around us all groaned in a combination of delight at the sight of my baby boy filling my cunt with his hot cum and disappointment that the show was over.

“I think we’ve given them enough of a show, Mommy, what do you say we head home and I can take better care of you there?” Menma muttered against my lips with a cocky smirk. I chuckled at his subtle possessiveness and nodded, still too worn out to give a proper response. We silently agreed to at least regain the energy to stumble home before we moved too much. While we waited, his cock remained in my creamed pussy as we kissed and Menma pulled my dress to drape over me, much to the chagrin of our greedy audience.

New, small surges of arousal shot to my core when Menma possessively growled at any people that got too close for his liking. Each time he felt my wetness return he sent me a cocky smirk with a promise for later.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[turcott3]

after dark

luca fantilli x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, protected sex, oral m receiving, kissing, fluff

masterlist

-

you saw your best friend disappear up the stairs as you sat in luca’s lap on the couch. you were proud that she finally grew the balls to talk to mark, let alone fuck him. you shifted in his lap to a more comfortable positions, his arms wrapping around you snuggly as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder.

you and luca had never shown this much affection in front of so many people. it had been a couple months but you weren’t together, or at least weren’t officially together, but this seemed to be a hint at him wanting more. just like you had been dreaming about for the last few weeks. you were becoming less friend-like and more girlfriend-like.

“baby, do you wanna go somewhere?” he whispers in your ear over the loud music, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your thigh.

“where?”

“you wanna go find that place mark told us about?” he replies smirking and you nod quickly. if there was anything you loved about him, it was how good he made you feel when he fucked you, and you couldn’t wait to add the potential risk of getting caught onto that.

you stood up off his lap, intertwining your fingers as he guided you out the doors into the crisp air of ann arbor.

“he said it was off in the woods.” he replies, his grip on your hand tightening a comfortable amount.

“oh yeah, that’s not terrifying at all.”

“nope.” he giggles in reply, opening his car door for you. he pulled up vaguely directions, arriving to a random empty home, placed conveniently next to a blocked off trail.

“think we found it?” you giggle as he turns the car off.

“i’d say we did.” he replies as he grabs a blanket from his backseat before you both exit the car. you meet him at the front of the car, quickly grabbing onto his hand, the full moon dimly lighting the area enough to see each other clearly.

“it shouldn’t be too far back here.” he states, in a tone you can’t quite place.

“man i hope so. im getting cold.”

“you won’t be cold for long, don’t worry.” he replies, you could hear the smirk on his face as the words rolled off his tongue.

“oh okay.” you reply briefly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. after a few short minutes, you finally approached the large abandoned outdoor theater.

“wow.” you say, taking in the scene. it was a lot bigger than you thought it would be, wondering why you had never heard of it ever existing. luca moves ahead of you, up a couple of rows of bleachers.

“HA nice.” he laughs.

“what?” you reply, your head snapping up toward the brunette.

“mark ditched a condom here.” he continues as you meet him, looking at the used latex on the ground.

“wow he really did.” you giggle.

“doesn’t shock me, he’s a bit careless sometimes.”

“speaking of, you brought one right?” you ask as he pulls you to him.

“of course i did, i know that’s important to you, so it’s important to me too.” he says leaning down to press a kiss to your lips as your heart fluttered. you take the blanket from his hands, covering the cold metal bleachers with it.

“i don’t know how to do this.” you giggle, not even knowing where to begin with such limited space.

“just relax, i got you baby.” he smiles giggling lightly, attaching your lips, tugging your unzipped jacket off of you. you knew you would end up here with him at some point, so you tended to wear short skirts and dresses to parties, not knowing which day he would’ve selected. it gave him easy access.

“i dressed just for you.” you smile as he gets a look at your outfit. the way his eyes scanned your body soaked your lace panties in an instant.

“fucking god.” he mutters.

“i can lose the top if you want.” you say, referring to the top that rested your tits perfectly.

“oh we’re getting there don’t worry. come here pretty girl.” he says sitting down on the blanket, beckoning you over to him. you climbed into his lap, straddling his hips as you reconnected your lips. his hand slipped under you, grazing your soaked core.

“so wet for me huh?” he says and you nod, “we can get right to it then, you make it so easy for me.”

he says locking eyes with your lust filled ones. you tossed your jacket to the ground, getting down onto your knees. you took the packaged condom out of his hand, carefully tearing it open with your teeth, not once losing eye contact. you unzipped his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out of his pants stroking him a few times.

“christ.” he grunts, looking up at the sky, “been waiting all night for this.”

“me too.” you smile, spitting on his leaking tip, taking him quickly into your mouth. you used your free hand to help you push him along, gagging on his thick cock a moment before pulling him out and jerking him off, pulling the condom out of the package. quickly you rolled the latex onto him, pressing a short kiss to his tip before standing up off your knees. he reaches out, wrapping a hand behind your neck, pulling your lips to his anxiously. you climbed back onto the bench, straddling his thick cock as you sunk onto it, a moan pulling from your throat before your head crashed onto his shoulder.

“fuck, so tight for me.” he says as he grips onto your ass, bouncing you up and down at a steady pace. you moaned as his tip brushed the soft spot inside you. he slowed down as your reached back to unzip your top, freeing your tits from their constraint.

“my fucking god, look at them” he says. quickly, he takes one into his mouth as you grind back and forth on his cock. you whimpered as his swollen cock stretched you out like never before. he was always good but was it EVER like this? not that you could remember.

“god you’re so big.” you whimper, your head nuzzled on the side of his neck. his hands return their grip on your ass, assisting your movements as you started to grow tired. he bounces you quickly up and down on his cock.

“look you pretty like this baby.” he says between his quick breaths, attaching your lips to his as you lifted your head from under his chin.

“lu, i think im getting close.” he says and lifts you lightly off his lap, snapping his hips into you, a yelp leaving your mouth involuntarily. he pounded into you quickly, hitting deeper than before.

“fuck.” you moaned loudly as your grew impossibly closer to your orgasm.

“oh i’m cumming, fuck.” he grunts as his hips stutter, spilling his climax into the condom as your own orgasm washed over you quickly.

“holy fuck.” you sigh out, your head crashing back into his shoulder.

“let’s see how many of these we can leave behind this summer yeah?” he smirks as both of your chests rose and fell heavily. you giggles at his remark, sitting up and locking eyes with him.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous y/n.” he says, a sparkle in his eye a bit brighter than usual.

“thank you handsome.” you say smiling, pressing a loving kiss to his lips. you sat up off his lap, pulling him out of you, yanking the condom off of his slowly softening cock. you tossed it to the ground, starting your own pile on the ground of the row behind you. you put your clothes back on as he tucked himself away. you straddled his lap once again, more innocently this time.

“i think i love you.” you whisper into his jawline as you peppered it with light kisses.

“what’d you say baby?” he says, pulling away, a hopefully gleam in his eyes.

“i said i thi-,” you pause as your heart pounds in your chest, “i- i love you luca.”

he remains silent for a moment as a smile grows on his face. he places a gentle hand in the hair on the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. this kiss was much more passionate than the many you had shared before. he pulled away slowly, with a wide smile on his face.

“and i love you.” you replies before you hug onto him, never wanting to let go. this moment confirmed everything you had second thoughts about, and now it wasn’t a question as to the status of your relationship.

“we need to go back sweet girl, we gotta go meet mark and see how that went,” he says pressing kisses to your cheek.

“yes let’s go.” you say giggling as you gathered you jacket and walked back to the car, his arm snuggly wrapped around your shoulder. you climb back into the car leaning over the console to kiss him again.

“i can’t believe i get to love you.” he smiles as you slowly pull away.

“says you.” you giggle smacking his chest as he giggles, putting the car in reverse, driving back towards the party, just as busy as you left it.

-

[vamphorica]

How would a female Mello, matt, and Near be?

absolutely wonderful question, anon, thank you so much. if you've been on my blog for any length of time, it is probably not surprising that i've given this a lot of thought and, putting aside my intricate transgender speculations for the time being, let's gender swap the wammy's creatures, and consider how that could impact their narratives within death note.

note: i will still be referring to all three using he/him pronouns, but this is not intended to be intentionally contrary. feel free to substitute whatever pronouns your heart desires throughout.

♀ mello -> mihaela may be a little bit obvious, haha, but if mihael is a croatian name that means 'who is like god', and we need to retain the letter 'm' for obvious reasons, i think it works well as a feminine alternative name. mello is relatively androgynous as an alias, if not slightly masculine, but i think it is fine given what i'm about to talk about.

mello's canonical gender expression is already nonconformative, so it is interesting to speculate what he would he look like if he were a girl. one of my absolute favourite genderbent depictions of mello is this piece by thekatzone because it still retains mello's visual ambiguity but in the opposite direction. i do think he would dress more masculine as a woman not only because his subversive appearance is a very significant aspect to his character, but also because of how it might relate to his position in the mafia.

mello spends a significant amount of time in the manga and anime in hypermasculine environments despite his presentation, and i think it is important to retain this idea even if he were to be genderbent. i do think mello would have had a much harder time, if it was at all possible, in attaining a leadership position within the mafia as a woman. the women who frequent the base are implied to be sex workers, and so i'm genuinely curious as to whether mello would have felt able to approach the organisation as a masculine presenting woman, or whether he'd seek out a different group. in which case, what would that group be? would he have been able to effectively carry out his insane plans in the same capacity?

i have very little doubt mello would still have been ambitious, but i actually don't think that he would have been able to pursue his goal to catch kira before near as he went about it in the series. certainly light would not have taken him seriously if the voice he heard down the phone was higher pitched, and that alone could have greatly impacted how sayu's kidnapping played out, as underestimating mello could have easily resulted in her death.

♀ matt -> apparently mail as a name means 'pleasant', and that is very funny to me. i quite like the name maille, which is irish, so fits nicely with a vague headcanon i haven't fully developed. i also learnt it is the name for a brand of mustard, and i think he would appreciate that. matt as a pseudonym might have to be changed to matilda, or martha.

while i am under no illusion that matt would be the kind of girl to give a shit about their appearance, i do think in another life, he would have made an excellent e-girl twitch streamer. i can imagine him wearing cat ear headphones and miniskirts, and referring to "chat" every five seconds. rest in peace, mail, you would have loved twitch subs.

regarding matt's gender identity in the canon series, i think that it worth considering how he might have responded differently to surveying others as a woman rather than as a man. i think matt's approach to watching others is very informed by his own personal biases, which I think are definitively masculine. The most clear example of this is how he describes misa as "an awfully cute japanese girl" which, while isn't necessarily the worst thing said about a woman in this godforsaken series, demonstrates that matt's perspective on women is superficial at best. this isn't helped either by the fact that he completely fucks up when guessing misa's age, even going so far as referring to her as a "child".

i think a female matt would probably feel the most overwhelmed of the three by societal expectations of women, and may even distance himself away from femininity. i'm not trying to suggest here that matt's comments imply he's misogynistic, but i actually think matt is the most masculine of the wammy's kids, which may be controversial, i don't know. i believe that he retains his masculine personality in this genderbent scenario.

♀ near -> i love the japanese pronunciation of near's name, nia, as a girl's name that he could use as an alias. natania has the same meaning as nate – 'gift of god' – which does not match his character at all, haha, but that is what i managed to come up with.

near is the easiest to consider gender swapping because to me, he's a girl anyway. you can point to his female voice actors in the anime, or his long hair in the 2020 manga one-shot, but he is also so clearly coded as a feminine character, a contrast from not only mello's aggressive impulsivity, but the masculine environment of law enforcement. with halle as a notable exception (who herself is very masculine, but another post, perhaps), near is markedly different from every other character in the series. some might say he resembles his predecessor, but i think they are very distinct from one another as characters.

my personal opinion relating to mello and near's gender identities (which you may disagree with) is that mello expresses his gender ambiguity externally whereas near does so internally. essentially, if we interpret them both as androgynous, mello's appearance is far more expressive of this, whereas near's behaviour is his more nonconformative trait. this can be a slightly tricky area to navigate as it's important not to dive headfirst into gender essentialism, but i think near's mannerisms can, and should, be explored here.

girl near would still be able to work as head of the spk, without the disadvantages girl mello would face to become head of the mafia. i really don't think there would be much in the way of significant plot deviance if near was female, other than maybe light freaking out over the fact he was caught by a woman, which would be very funny. in the one shot, near's internal androgyny has manifested itself as a more external expression, and i really like that decision.

to conclude, i do love the concept of the wammy's girls, and i think it invites some interesting discussions relating to how femininity is often dismissed in death note. there's a lot of creativity in genderbending characters. mello, matt and near each have complex and interesting traits that are very fun to explore when thinking about them from this perspective.

[a-murmur-of-a-prayer]

Rambles On Femininity And Gender

(Wow this turned out longer than I thought. I guess you're getting some prose/vaguely poetry-esque writing tonight. WARNING: it's all pretty mild, but I do bring up derogatory terms for women, as well as vague references to sex, sexual assault and suicidal ideation.)

*clears throat*

My relationship with my body, and with the idea of being a woman, is so fascinating to me - because for years I did feel like a girl, but when I turned 18 I couldn't call myself a woman. It felt weird. I still can't call myself a woman. But I don't remotely feel like a man, either. I also don't feel comfortable thinking of myself as non-binary or genderfluid. For a long time, I haven't really known what I am.

Lately, I've started to play with the idea of that, and why I feel that way. I was allowed to be a tomboy when I was a kid, to relate to male characters, to help my dad with physical chores since I didn't have brothers - then the moment I turned 13, I needed to wear make-up and act like a lady. But I couldn't draw sexual attention; I had to wear modest clothes, to be gentle enough, to be polite enough, to be the exact right balance of everything.

"Oh, don't wear that," I'd hear, "you don't want to look like...well, never mind." There was an invisible word there that I wasn't old enough to know. I learned it when I went to high school; the word was slut, or some variation of it. And how do you deal with growing up as a girl, when you like playing in the dirt and pretending to be an action hero, but deep down you're also dreaming of being loved? What do you do when the only way to be loved is to abandon all the things you like in service of some person everyone else wants you to be? What do you do when you want to talk to boys, but your friends tell you stories about being sexually assaulted by their boyfriends? What do you do when old men whistle at you, and when the boys you sit in class with say vulgar things about the girls they want to fuck? What do you do when all the adults in your life tell you to look like a lady but not to dress a certain way, not to even think about sex...and on the other side, most girls in your town lose their virginity by age 15?

You are given a choice, essentially, between being fuckable and having autonomy. It sickens me that I even put it into such black and white terms; removed from the environment, I realize how horrible it was that I thought that was so normal. I chose to have autonomy, partially because it seemed safer at the time but also because I had squashed down every ounce of thoughts about sex I'd ever had. It wasn't a woman's job to be interested in sex; it was your job to be interested in having children. But obviously, I wasn't going to even have that, because I'd made painstaking effort to not draw the wrong type of attention. That meant that when I actually drew the right type of attention, when a boy was interested in me, I couldn't recognize it.

When I turned 18, they said "you're a woman now!" Outwardly, I looked like one. But inwardly, I didn't recognize that. I knew what my body was, but that body wasn't a woman.

Eventually, once I got out of that town, I started to change. Sometimes for the better (I made friends who were comfortable with whatever version of me existed, with whom I could embrace whatever side of gender I felt like), and sometimes for the worse (I craved a relationship, so the replacement for that was toxic people that gave me extreme depression to the point of suicidal ideation). And then, after that all passed, it started to hit me that I hadn't kissed or had sex with anyone and I was in my twenties, an old maid by my hometown's standards, so I started going out to bars, putting on a performance, finding a guy here and there to flirt with, and sometimes more than that...but the more men I kissed, the emptier I felt. So I didn't know what to do.

Now, I'm starting to enjoy things I never thought I would. I wear make-up every day, because I like it. I cut my hair short because I wanted to, and now I'm starting to grow it out in a way I think I'll enjoy. I write smut fics, and I enjoy it; it channels something I haven't historically thought about. I like dancing at bars with my friends. I wear things that sometimes show a little too much, that maybe make me look like a slut. I've learned to experience things for my own pleasure. I've learned to watch movies and say, out loud, that guy's hot, and not feel like a shallow teenager for saying it. This might seem really weird to the rest of you; but that's something I've struggled with for my entire life, and even saying that little bit feels like a huge victory. Scratch that, to think about sex at all is a victory.

And the thing about it is that I enjoy it when I'm doing it for myself. I might not have found a boyfriend yet; a depressing part of me thinks that maybe I never will, that I'll just drift through life craving touch and connection and love and not be able to get it. But I do know that when I do those little things, I feel just a bit happier. I like myself just a little bit more, because it helps me to tell myself - I deserve love, I deserve happiness, I deserve to feel pleasure, I deserve to look pretty. I want to be soft, and I don't want to lead all the time, and none of that is going to put me in danger if I find the right person. And it's okay to want it.

If 14-year-old me could see me right now, she'd be betrayed. She'd think, how could you? Don't you still want to be like Indiana Jones? Don't you want to have your own job? And the answer is yes, I do. But maybe I would've liked doing feminine things too, wearing lacy lingerie and low-cut tops and make-up, and flirting with boys, if I hadn't been pressured to do it for someone else's idea of a woman.

I still don't think I can call myself a woman, though. I'm not upset about it in the slightest; it's just probably something that's never going to change.

Now, I don't know if this is a unique experience, or something anyone else can relate to; this is the most personal, in-depth post I've written about myself, but I wrote it partially in the hope that, if this resonates with anyone, it makes you feel seen. Or maybe this really is a completely original experience, and I've just lived a weird, insane life. Either way, it really does help to own up to how I feel and write it out - usually I channel that in fanfiction, but this has been cathartic in a way I never could have imagined.

(Could this have been way shorter? Yes. However, I'm not a concise person, so I don't really care.)

[alitgblog]

s9 vol 6: oh fuck I was joking last time but am i.. is this gonna be a Hamish route for me??? 😳

i guess first of all, the kelly/kat drama. I know it's yet again Finn and Kat but I'm happy they're dealing with it in a different way (although if S5 is Suresh's island, I can't help but think S9 is Kat's island 🙄). The thing that annoyed me the most is MC not being able to say anything? Like Kelly brought up the note, I feel like MC and Finn should've said something.

however we do get this, which, as someone with a friend whose name starts with K going through relationship troubles with a Korean man, actually I'm offended they took my joke and made it less funny,

but snog marry pie! Most of the girls (my MC included) choosing to kiss Hamish? It's like we all forget how bad a kisser he was in S6 like what happened. however, uhhh kinda worth it like I was initially intrigued about a Finn or Stefan route but Hamish is really coming in as a dark horse with chat like this (especially considering how sassy MC can be this season)

and the thing too is even though hes clearly changed bc they're making him a serious LI this season, there are several moments where I'm like yeah that's the same guy that had the audacity to ask S6 MC to run away with him at the end of S6

Then I played by rules like Chen, and chose a different person to snog, a different person to marry, a different person to pie. And then Hamish gets his little moment kissing and marrying MC, which kind of undermines the big moment which is his speech where he pies himself? like the talk on the terrace later this volume is great and I love the flirty banter between him and MC but he's so wishy washy about Natasha and it just doesn't really get addressed?

Kat's partner (in my game, Jude) is a whole mess. Like it'd be one thing if he's gonna be like "hey I'm sorry I was just defending Chen because I misinterpreted some stuff I thought you did" but it's another to do all that meanwhile he was also being shady about flirting with Melissa???

Then they call the incident Melgate bc... fusebox struck gold with Cherrygate and has been trying to recreate it ever since and has always failed. I never clicked the gem scene that would prompt Kat to tell you this story, and so I was so confused until they explained it in the next episode and that was so annoying. Then they do the thing (again!) where they like shame you for not being a friend (Kat's like "I tried to tell you"). this is worse than when you had an ugly dress and the girls were like God you look awful.

Jude being vague during the game was annoying bc i know theyre just stretching it out but also absolutely I could see that happening on the show where he's like "you know what you did. we'lltalk about it later" and it cuts to MC in the beach hut being like "judes being a real bitch. of course I know what I did but which time are you referring to"

Chen being constantly voted the sweetest during the challenge and then awards night is great but also just reminds me that his character is gonna be so vague from now on bc he's sharing a personality with three other guys. like its gonna hurt to break him but also he's not getting the care from the writing team that they've been giving the other routes so unfortunately he's boring rn 😬. doesn't even have the audacity to be mad just has to go away and think. And Chen just keeps taking L's too with MC (at least in my game) flirting with everyone and Jude in his ear saying MC can't be trusted. like if he twists in casa I'm not even sure if the audience would blame him (they would bc they love MC but ya knowww)

God don't remind me I'm missing not only missing actual litg season 2 but also what I have instead is Kat and Finn season 2

anyway MC being able to say never have I ever had a steamy shower with someone? she's so messy

also with Natasha explaining more of what she did in casa on her original season has me making things up in my head bc you gotta be a pretty memorable casa girl for the game to pretend you're an all star but she didn't even make it to the actual villa so that's even harder to imagine, but I'm going to pretend she flirted with one of the guys while also sneaking behind his back with Roxy and people ate that up. then he tells her he wants to bring her to the villa and she rides off into the sunset with Roxy instead (or Roxy breaks her heart goes in the villa with a guy idk)

I'm starting to think Kat's gonna end up either with Finn or if MC is with Finn, then single but then we get a reunion episode and she reveals she's dating Finn's brother bc she has a TYPE (also wouldn't be out of the ordinary for fusebox bc of the grace/ozzy/marshall thing but it's still icky to me lol)

then lastly for brunch we got the first of TWO prompts this volume to lay to learn about your own backstory?? I mean no question I'm upset about paying for information but your OWN character??

I had no problem saying no though like I feel like there's enough context about Sarah Ann for me to guess (side note, if anyone from Casa comes back with Sarah Ann I'm throwing hands)

OK but awards now. I feel like awards night is usually an end of season thing when the producers of the show have not much drama left bc the couples are solid and they want to throw in drama for the last week, but seeing as this is a game and they can just write in the finale whenever, I guess here is alright. (I wonder if that means no movie night then though?)

the clip they showed of Natasha? honestly, I respect her more for it. like idk she just seems more real than this perfect character flirting with MC all the time if she's venting to Hamish about also being sick of Kat and Finn or small things like Kelly taking long to get ready.

Here's where I did wish there was more branching like I think if you didn't do anything with Finn you should get a nice award, like about being loyal, while the clip still showed Finn being sneaky. like I don't doubt that if this were real, the producers of the show WOULD show the note and then getting cut off before MC realizing it's Finn and not her partner, but it's irritating to get blamed for that and even worse, MC does not get a real chance to defend herself, we just listen to everyone else's reactions.

anyway in my game MC should've been shown pieing off Finn at the pool and then Jude apologizing realizing he didn't understand what he saw. and then subsequently after show the clip of MC trying to kiss Finn at the shower and him rejecting her bc I personally loved that moment and I actually gasped when I thought they were gonna show it instead of cutting it off (bc again, not enough branching)

I did spend the gems on the second MC lore thing bc I was like ehh why not it's the end of the volume and like wow I get why I like s9 mc now, she's so Bobby coded 🤣

once again, I do appreciate the effort going into Hamish's route rn bc he has actual consequences and regrets for hooking up with Melissa and it getting exposed. OK maybe not actual consequences bc I think the game will just continue to pair up him and Natasha but the fact that there are some repercussions at all AND he gets to talk out his feelings and regrets about it with MC on the terrace after? And then he continues to show interest in MC and explain his reasons for not being with her and also the whole hi trying to look for validation from his dad? sorry Finn and Chen, the writers are playing favorites

I did not think we were getting casa lmao. there's no casa in the actual love island all stars and love island games so I was surprised but I'm curious about who the other boys are, if they're all gonna be international or are we gonna see at least one more UK islander? if Cassius is coming in during casa it feels like he's gonna be overshadowed and his route is probably merged with some international guys, which I guess makes enough sense like we didn't know him during season 7 anyway but I'm just curious.

oh yeah and this guy

late to the party like I know the game keeps reminding me of him, but the more they did the interested I was, but I could be brought back

OK fingers crossed they don't dump single islanders post casa

[daechwitatamic]

Its been xx months maybe over a year? since you completed What Was Hidden and I still regularly wonder what Taes thoughts were when he spoke with oc on st Patricks day.

Ykw anon it will be one year in November and I freaking miss them so here you go.

Below the cut – NSFW (but not explicit so don’t come in here expecting smut lol) no minors, Taehyung’s POV of the St. Patrick’s Day party in Chapter 14 of What Was Hidden. Probably this cannot stand alone without reading the series.

Warnings include alcohol consumption, cursing, vague references to Tae’s car crash, kissing and implied sex, angst. unedited so if you see a typo lemme know.

WC: 1700

(banner by @itaeewon)

Sure of It - Tae POV # 7

“I’ll never look back and think maybe I didn’t love her.”

That’s what Taehyung had told you, months ago, before everything fell apart.

And he stands by it, even on the days he’s sure he hates you.

He was sure he hated you when your silence had let him down, was sure of it when he blocked you on insta, was sure of it when he saw you on campus and felt acid roil behind his bellybutton.

He was sure of it when you’d flirted with that idiot right in front of him, was sure of it when he’d called you a coward, was sure of it when you’d lied straight to his face and claimed you didn’t want him.

He hated you. He hates you.

He’s just waiting for time to do its thing and take the sting from it, the same way time slowly took the intensity from his flashbacks and nightmares.

He does what he can to distract himself, in the meantime. That’s what he’s doing on St. Patrick’s Day weekend – distracting himself, one shotglass at a time.

He’s never understood why his hyungs go so big for an Irish holiday – for Yoongi, he thinks it’s a bit ironic, just for a laugh. But Taehyung thinks Jin actually really likes the holiday for whatever reason, and so he finds himself in his packed living room sometime after midnight, awash in green lighting, noticing an ass in a tight green dress.

He knows that ass.

He knows that ass well.

(He misses that ass. But that might be tequila talking.)

He stands at the edge of the dancefloor, hovering between the kitchen and the stairs, and watches you dance with Bridget.

For a second, he doesn’t hate you. For a second, the slanted funhouse he’s lived in since he walked away from you rights itself, and he stands on even footing.

Then the beat changes up and your eyes meet his across the dancefloor, going wide with recognition. He clutches his sweating beer bottle tightly and watches as something hard slides over your face. You down your drink, sending the bottom of the red plastic cup skyward, and turn your back to him.

Move, Taehyung thinks to himself, move before she turns around and you’re still standing here like a fucking clown.

His feet obey, and he makes his way to the basement. He feels like it’s a good idea to be on a different floor of the house than you, if only for self-preservation.

He knows himself well enough to know that his mood is written all over his face. Seeing you unleashed all of it, as it always does. It leaves him as spinning and shattered as the sedan he’d steered into hell over a year ago.

It’s how he knows he loved you, loves you, though. Because when he sees you – whether it’s across campus or across his crowded house – the hating you gets quieter.

Everything else – the stuff he’s been distracting himself from, trying to drown out the sound of – gets louder. Like the fact that you look miserable, even when you’re laughing at something Bridget says. Like the fact that when your eyes catch his, there’s always a flash of something before you seem to shove it down. Like the fact that his heart leaps when he hears your voice, even when he knows it’s stupid. Like the fact that he loves you, loves you, even now – would do anything for you, would climb any mountain if you just said the word.

He's a world-class fool. But the heart wants what it wants, or something.

He expects it to be Jimin who clocks his mood and heads over, but somehow he finds himself standing near the pong tables and it’s Jungkook who sidles up.

“What’s wrong?” the younger man asks, and Taehyung looks at him, surprised. They’d argued less than two hours ago; Jungkook had slammed his bedroom door in Taehyung’s face.

It reminds Taehyung that their friendship existed before, and there’s hope for it still.

“She’s upstairs,” he says flatly. He knows that’s enough.

Jungkook grimaces. “You gonna talk to her? Or you gonna hide down here?”

“I’m not hiding,” Taehyung snaps, but he is and they both know it.

Jungkook shrugs, unbothered. He sips at his beer, scans the room. Taehyung waits. He’s known Jungkook long enough to know he should wait.

“You think she’s sorry?” he asks finally, and the question surprises Taehyung so much that he drops the bravado and fully turns to face his friend, eyes wide.

“Sorry about what?” he manages. He really means, sorry about which part, but he thinks Jungkook understands.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whatever happened first. If you can forgive the first transgression… the rest falls into place.”

Vocab, Taehyung thinks. Out loud, he scoffs. “Transgression. It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that clear cut.”

His words aren’t working right.

You’d know what he meant.

Jungkook shrugs again, lazy. “I’m just saying. Maybe she’s sorry and doesn’t know how to say so.”

You had apologized, Taehyung remembers, sipping at his own drink. He’d been too mad to hear it, at the time. And then you’d gone radio silent, like he wasn’t even worth fighting for. Had looked him dead in the eyes and said, “I don’t want you.”

Were you sorry – about any of it?

The part of him that loves you whispers, of course she is.

The part of him that hates you whispers, she threw you away.

And the part of him that treads water somewhere in the middle wonders if any of it even fucking matters.

“I need some air,” he mutters, and heads for the stairs.

He wishes he could go back in time and never trip over you on these fucking stairs. Then maybe his heart wouldn’t be cracked and splintered, maybe his head wouldn’t be spinning in confused circles.

He hates you, he hates you, he hates you.

He heads for the kitchen, ducking around bodies and drinks held aloft, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

He freezes halfway across the kitchen, his gaze snagging on the window above the sink. You’re out back, alone, leaning against the railing, your head hanging towards the plastic cup you’re dangling over the railing.

He hates you, but his heart tugs.

It’s how he knows he loves you, even when he hates you. Because he can tell by your fucking shoulders that you’re not okay. Because noticing that makes his stomach hurt, makes his hands itch, makes his ribs tight.

He slips outside, closing the door gently and making his way over to you. He leans his elbow on the wood, mirroring you.

He hates you, but he loves you, so he has to check on you. He doesn’t have a choice.

“You okay?” he asks. It’s a dumb question. Neither of you are. You’re both casualties of each other.

“The fuck do you care?” you snap, and Taehyung breaks. He clutches the railing with one hand, turning to face you, every muscle quivering in his fight against his instincts, which scream hold her, hold her, hold her!

Because that? The hatred, the anger? That’s not you, and he knows it. Like looking in a mirror, Taehyung sees it for what it is: a façade, hiding the hurt. It makes him both ache for you, and furious with you.

How dare you make him want to make it better?

He doesn’t touch you, but he does say your name, just once, quietly.

He watches you take a breath, watches as you struggle to get it together. “Go inside,” you say finally. “Go have fun. I’m fine. I just wanted to cool down.”

Liar.

He steps back towards the house, and your body follows, turning so you can keep watching him. He loves you and he hates you, and they are at war inside him, and he had probably three too many shots earlier, and that dress is a sin on you and –

“I know this sucks,” he says, surprising himself. His mouth took over while his head spiraled. But he presses on. “It’s hard for me, too, you know.”

You laugh, and that’s the moment Taehyung knows how this is going to go. There’s something in your stance, in that sarcastic ha, that feels like a challenge. Like you’re daring him to cross a line, and he’s ready to leap.

“I know it’s hard for you, Taehyung,” you say, voice dripping with attitude. “I get it. I’m the bitch that broke your heart. You don’t have to remind me.”

He stares at you and wonders if anyone had let you grieve, when it ended. He wonders if there’s anyone you let inside your walls, where he used to be, to see that you aren’t fine.

He wonders if you’d let him kiss you, if he tried.                                

That dress is fucking with him.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for you when I’m angry with you.”

“Be mad then,” you snap, like you’re over it, exasperated. “Go for it. If you want to hate me, hate me.”

He does.

He could never.

He steps closer.

“That’s not what I want,” he admits, voice low.

He loves you. He’ll prove it.

Your body language shifts; he knows the green light when he sees it, he was with you long enough. “What do you want, then?” You demand it like you already know the answer.

You probably do.

He won’t look back and wonder if he loved you. He knows he does. He’s sure of it when he presses you against the deck railing and kisses you again, stomach swooping with joy. He’s sure of it when you follow him upstairs, when you cling to him and breathe his name in the dark. He’s sure of it when he falls asleep with his face buried in your neck, his arm around your waist.

And though his heart breaks impossibly, new cracks forming right beside the old, he’s sure of it even when he wakes up to find you gone, his sheets cold, the room silent and still.

It wouldn’t hurt this bad if he didn’t.

[quibbs126]

Oh yeah, so does anyone remember that one Professor Layton OC I made back during my Layton phase?

Not Eileen, I’m talking about this guy here. The character who was unnamed but was part of an idea I had for a Layton story (and also an ex of Descole’s)

Well, I actually named him ages ago, as well as gave him a bit more stuff (not a lot, just a bit), and about 2 hours ago I just randomly decided to draw/redesign him again. For no particular reason, I just did it

If I’m being honest, I don’t think the redesign turned out half bad. I didn’t do much, just changed up his hair and outfit a little, but I think it works. Ironically I was using Ace Attorney characters as more of my reference here than Layton. Maybe not the best but it works

Also I know his cane arm looks weird, but shh

I wrote most of the stuff about him up there, but his name is now Claude di Adone, for reasons I don’t remember. I do remember where Claude came from though, it was @notllorstel’s Twisted Fates AU Descole that was Layton. And also that his name was supposed to sound both vaguely French and Italian

As I recall, the hypothetical plot centers a good deal on parts of Descole’s past (though not a lot on Descole’s character development), where Layton and co come to this town where at least in public, everyone dresses similar to Descole. Not necessarily because of him, but rather because it was based on the bauta masks and the fact that apparently people in Venice once commonly wore these outfits and that sounded cool

Actually I think I remember the name of the story now, I believe it was City of Masks or something like that

Edit: I found the original post, it was Town of Masks

Anyways, Claude was the one who called Layton here, as he wanted him to solve some mystery going around the town that I never really figured out, and had done so after learning of his reputation

However, there’s more to Claude as he actually once knew Desmond Sycamore when they were younger. The image says “friend” because they weren’t just friends, they were actually dating, but Claude might not make that fully known. There are hints prior to this revelation that Claude knows a bit more than he should about Layton from the papers, or at least on a level that he shouldn’t for a complete stranger, like trying to call Layton by his first name. This is because Claude has been fully aware of the Hershel twist for years as this was before Desmond got super secretive about his former life and considered Claude someone he could trust. So from Claude’s perspective he’s meeting the famed younger brother of an old friend/ex of his that he’s never fully gotten over his feelings for, and he occasionally forgets that Layton probably doesn’t know that

But not only does Claude have a past with Desmond/Descole, but Descole himself happens to be in the town as well, albeit with a bout of amnesia. Note that this is supposed to take place sometime after the prequels. Claude is well aware of this, and this is the second secret reason he called Layton, as he knows Layton has a past with both Desmond and Descole, and hopes that Layton will be able to jog his memory, especially as Claude himself has been struggling with that due to the large gap in time from when they last met

Also, there’s the matter of his cane. Originally I said that he used one due to an injury in the past, but now I’ve decided he’s just always had weak legs, and has been using a cane pretty much his whole life. His cane does still secretly have a sword though

Claude is a nice guy, and can be rather generous, such as letting Layton and his friends stay in his house for their time here, since he’s rich with a big house and lives alone aside from some servants, so there’s plenty of room, and he does ultimately have good intentions, but he can also be shady as fuck sometimes and you probably don��t know him as well as you think

And yeah, I just felt like sharing that. Don’t know if anyone cares but I did

[tssdresses]

The dress of Io

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors (hi please let me know about any pronoun mess ups and I'll edit the post, I think I got them right, but... just to be safe)

There have been a few iterations of designs for Io’s dress— all of which have very flowery inspirations. I sent Violet an ask and the first thing bay said was “something vaguely gauzy with a petal skirt,’ so that’s been a heavy part of all the deign ideas thus far. 

So, over various asks and time and fics, the needed elements are:

Colors: Reds and deep purples, like mulberry fruit, and white and cream, like mulberry flowers. Greens as needed. I'm thinking mostly a pinky-red. If you look at the first image below, there are three mulberries in a line at the top left-- look at the one in the middle and/or the one under it (not in the line of three) for a good color reference.

Thigh holster: Knife. Hot. Io needs a knife under ly skirt because it’s what lu deserves. I'm thinking either a faux leather, because that's what I use for part of Remus's dress, or strap made of several green fabrics woven together, to give it a homemade vibe, like Io made it laself. And it will be accessible via... :

Skirt shape: Petals. The first idea I had was a petunia, to make a solid skirt with five panels, each which would have a scalloped edge to create the shape of the flower, like these:

Skirt, cont.: But after realizing that lu would need access to a thigh holster for ly knife, I started to think about how to access that in skirt form. One idea is to make the skirt of separate, finished panels that can be easily reached between. One construction idea for the original paneled skirt idea was to make it as several strips with a waistband that tied around. So now the idea is to use that method, but with deconstructed panels to give a very open skirt but keep with the theme of easily removable. Also imagine all the different panels flaring out when you spin!

Fabric: After Mulberry was posted, we learned more about how Io dresses (or, uh, doesn't), so I started thinking more about the fabric type. I want to balance the surreal (shiny fabrics making a less natural looking appearance, nodding to fae) and the mundane (Io being a less powerful nymph, as opposed to powerful gentry). I'm a little at an impasse for what fabric to use. I love organzas (even though they're mean to me) (it's fine, everything's fine), and I think using a mix of organza and a very light-grade tulle would make an interesting texture for this dress.

Sleeves: Again, this depends on the fabric type, but imagine big billowing sleeves of a transparent mesh fabric with discrete embroidery of mulberry themed elements. Thinking the sleeves will be completely off the shoulder, maybe made with casing and a ribbon tie to keep them at the top of the arm.

Bodice: Also going back to Io's tendency to dress less, using a knit fabric which matches skin tone is one option for the body potion, OR, hear me out, a gentle mesh (that doesn't set off sensory hell!) with exposed boning to make a corset-like top! Then, referencing this post, flower or similar motifs sewn into to chest piece. Another part I'll add is an open back element, with some sort of lacing. This works great for me, because zippers and I are reluctant allies at best.

Overall vibes: Basically, I want this to look like a flower nymph ballet costume, because how fucking cool would that be? Here are some images with elements of the silhouette I'm thinking of:

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Code Words

Read on Ao3

Warnings: references to relapsing, nothing explicit

Pairings: platonic roceit

Word Count: 5184

For several years, Roman Prince has been tasked with taking down a prominent member of the Agency's rival, an underground gang member known only as Deceit. Many sleepless nights, many painful memories, but it would be worth it, right? To take him down?

Well, after bursting into a high-level Agency meeting to see him sitting there, an undercover agent this whole time, nothing seems simple anymore.

What is he supposed to trust now? The Agency that lied to him, or the man whose alias has been deception for as long as Roman's known him?

Roman curls up tighter as he feels tears begin to slip down his face, clinging with razor-blade focus to his red cheeks. Humiliation burns up his throat, his hands aching where his nails are digging into his palms.

A trick.

A trick.

This was all a trick.

He'd been briefed about a villain he needed to stop. He spent years working to bring them down—years of sleepless nights and violence and scars that'll never fully heal—only for the Agency to reveal that it was all a plan, a set-up. A way to get information and the villain was actually working for them the whole time. That Roman was just fucking set dressing.

And how did they find out about this? Oh, only because someone made an off-hand comment about the villain being there and he burst in on a meeting only for everyone to laugh.

They laughed at him.

Didn't help that the supervisors had the most patronizing tone ever as they finally explained. Didn't help that the villain just sat there looking vaguely amused. Didn't help that he was disregarded as soon as he wasn't useful anymore.

So. Here he is. Mortified, humiliated, stupid, stupid.

There's a quiet knock at the door.

"What is it?"

"Hey," comes their voice—hell fucking no— "can I come in?"

"Go away!"

"Remember that favor you owe me from the docks?" The door handle jiggles. "I'm calling it in."

I made that deal with someone who wasn't a liar. That's not true. I made that deal when I thought you were a villain and now that you've humiliated me I don't want to owe you anything anymore. That is true. That's not what comes out of his mouth.

"…fine."

Janus opens the door. It's jarring to see him dressed down, open, vulnerable. Roman glares as hard as he can and it seems to just bounce off.

"I wanted to check on you," he says like it's acceptable, "you…left kind of quickly."

Ran away, he hears and he glares harder. "What do you want?"

"I just said: I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine. Now go away."

"You've been crying," Janus points out in what's probably supposed to be a kind way, but just makes Roman so much angrier. He whirls around, back to him, fists clenching.

"It's fine."

He hears a sigh. "It's okay that you didn't win, you know."

His teeth grind together. That's what he thinks this is about?

"I know first-hero missions are a lot," he continues, coming closer, "and it can feel like, I don't know, you have to prove your worth or something. But it's okay, you know. You don't have to be ashamed or embarrassed about losing. I've been doing this for a lot longer than you."

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus is still coming closer.

"I don't know what they told you about me—"

"Nothing."

"Hm?"

"They didn't tell me anything," Roman bites out, "I didn't find out about you—anything until five fucking minutes ago."

"Language."

The fuse that had been burning since he'd been so thoroughly humiliated downstairs runs out. He whips around so fast it sends the papers on his desk scattering, glaring hard enough to melt a hole through steel.

"Don't fucking talk to me about my fucking language," he growls, spittle flying from his lips but he doesn't care, "you don't get to do that. You don't get to act like I'm being unreasonable right now."

He stabs a finger at the door.

"I just fucking found out that the thing I've been doing for years, the person I've been trying to stop for actual fucking years is a goddamn liar and in on some big thing that I didn't fucking know about! I just got fucking humiliated in front of everyone for trying to do the right thing because I was fucking scared!"

His hands are still shaking from the moment he heard that Janus was in the building. He grips his hair to try and stop it.

"Fuck," and his voice starts to crack, "do you even—you fucking hurt me. You tortured me. I couldn't sleep because of you, I fucking relapsed because of you, so you—you do not get to stand there and do that."

He shakes himself, still glaring.

"Maybe you're right, I'm not fucking fine, but that's your fucking fault for doing that to me and everyone else's fucking fault for not telling me shit." He's out of breath by the end of his shouting. "So take your fucking pity and your fucking condescension, and your smug fucking face and get the fuck out."

Janus stands there, expression unreadable, until: "…they didn't tell you?"

Roman's shoulders slump. All of the anger drains out of him and he tries to feebly claw it back. "No. No, they didn't."

Janus inhales sharply. "That's—so that's—so you couldn't—fuck."

"Language," he bites out as Janus pinches the bridge of his nose, eyeing him warily.

"I thought you were a good actor," he mutters after a moment, "but you were just scared. You were actually scared because you thought I would hurt you."

"You did hurt me."

"I know, sweetie, I know, but—" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm just—I'm very upset for you right now."

Upset…for him? Not at him?

"There are supposed to be safeguards," Janus explains carefully, "things that prevent situations from escalating and people from getting hurt."

"But only if I know about them."

"But only if you know about them."

And wasn't that just the goddamn hole in the fence.

Roman wraps his arms around himself, trying—and failing, he's sure—to pass it off as crossing his arms angrily. He tries to glare at the floor but his face protests, swollen and strained from crying.

The ache washes over him slowly, building with a patient hopelessness. His head pounds from crying, his eyes are exhausted and swollen, his neck feels like it's made of rebar and the phantom pains tingle all over his body.

And the humiliation still hasn't gone away.

"Can," Janus asks, startling him, "can I hug you?"

Roman blinks. "Can you what?"

Janus opens his arms slowly, exposing his chest, his torso, everything, looking at him with a…a soft expression. "Can I give you a hug?"

Part of Roman screams that this is a trap. He flicks his gaze out to check for syringes, knives, other weapons that are just waiting for a piece of him. A part of him that crawls at the thought of being so close to him again.

The rest of him is just so tired.

Unmistakable relief crosses Janus's expression as he nods, patiently waiting until he's closer to tuck him into his arms. He cradles his head with one hand, pressing it gently into the crook of his neck. Roman can feel his pulse jumping right next to his cheek and he has to swallow the urge to bite. Then Janus's other arm wraps around his shoulders and—

"Hey, hey," Janus murmurs as Roman stiffens, trying not to sniffle too audibly, "it's okay, sweetie. You can cry, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

A sob escapes. An ugly, messy sob and Janus just tucks his head up against Roman's. His breath warms the top of his ear and cheek.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he whispers, "I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay, I promise."

He doesn't know how long he stands there, blubbering like a baby into Janus's chest. Janus doesn't pull away, still cupping the back of his head and murmuring comforts each time the sobs reach a crescendo.

When they do finally taper off, Roman is drained. He would feel embarrassed about it, but at this point there's nothing left for him to do. He doesn't even have the strength to pull away.

"It's funny," Janus says softly, "I've always wanted to do this."

Roman swallows. "What?"

"This." He gives him a gentle squeeze. "Hug you. You…well, you were always so scared. But you were always trying so hard to be brave and you used to be so small…"

He knows he doesn't imagine the way Janus's grip tightens slightly.

"I wanted to give you a hug," he confesses, his voice a little thick too, "and tell you it was okay. That everything would be okay."

Roman squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to ask more, did Janus know what was going on? Did Janus mean anything he said? But before he can convince his throat to cooperate, his legs start to wobble.

"Here," Janus says, quickly yet gently guiding him to sit, "can I get you a glass of water?"

Roman makes a non-committal noise and Janus disappears into the bathroom, coming back with a glass. He regards it with skepticism as Janus sits.

"Here," Janus says, taking a sip, "see? Just water, I promise."

Roman takes the glass and silently drinks half of it.

"Good job, sweetie." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I…understand if you'd rather not be near me right now, but…can we talk?"

"If I say no, will you leave?"

"You reserve the right to throw me out of this room at any moment."

"How many times did I tell you to get the fuck out and you didn't?"

Janus winces. "I know. I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't know what was going on."

The urge to tell him to get the fuck out, then is strong. Cruel and sharp words rise to the tip of his tongue that he wants to spit out too, make Janus hurt like he's been hurting for years, but he doesn't.

"…if I tell you to leave now, do you promise to?"

"Yes."

He shifts, pulling his leg up a little more. "Then we can talk."

"Thank you," Janus says quietly, "thank you, sweetie."

He sits up a little, still braced on one arm.

"What did they tell you?"

Roman takes another drink. "That you were a new member of the gang. That you needed to be stopped before—before something bad happened."

"But nothing about me being undercover?" Roman shakes his head. Janus's jaw clenches for a moment. "What about the codes?"

"…codes?"

"Code phrases, yes. Ones that would've meant that you were compromised, or I was compromised, or…"

Something dark flickers across his expression for a minute before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"…or if it's getting to be too much."

Oh.

Oh.

"I-I was—" Roman swallows— "I was supposed to have a way out?"

"Yes, sweetie," Janus says softly with quiet devastation, "you were supposed to have a way out. I—I never had to use any of them and I guess I…I assumed that you didn't either. But you didn't know them."

"No."

He nods, jaw clenching again. "And you…you said you relapsed?"

Shaking hands, shaky breath, it's dark. It's quiet. It hurts and it won't stop—

"Stay with me, sweetie." He indicates the glass. "Drink a bit more, you're still dehydrated."

He gulps down the water on autopilot. The glass is still cool to the touch. He takes a deep breath. "Yes. I relapsed. It was bad."

Janus closes his eyes for a minute, head bowing. For long seconds, neither of them move.

A cloud passes over the window. Footsteps and the low murmur of conversation pass by in the hall.

Janus slowly raises his head. "Who briefed you?"

"What?"

"The name," he says firmly and Roman flinches.

He's back in that warehouse. He's bleeding—it's so cold—

"Shit," he hears distantly. Janus scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, sweetie, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm—I want to get this sorted out. I didn't mean to scare you."

Roman swallows. "I know."

"I can be gentle with you," he continues, smiling slightly when Roman fails to hide the hope that crosses his face, "I've just spent too long being a mean, unrepentant asshole, I'm very much looking forward to not having to anymore."

"…yeah?"

"Yes, sweetie."

He might…he might be okay with that.

"The reason I asked who briefed you is because I'm going to go talk to them after this. They need to be held responsible for not telling you. This could've been so much worse and it's already bad enough."

Roman shuffles, almost curling into a ball. "They're not going to like that."

"I don't like my partner getting traumatized and terrified to the point of relapse either, so they're just going to have to deal with it."

"…partner?"

"Yes, sweetie." He smiles again. "We were assigned to the same mission, that makes us partners."

"…oh." Roman nods toward his desk. "Their name is over there."

Janus gets up and he hears him shuffle a few papers around before the chair creaks as he sits down again.

"Hey." Roman looks up. "I don't expect you to suddenly be fine with me. I hurt you and nothing I do or say will change that. You are entitled to deal with your trauma and cope with it as best you can. I'm not going to be upset if it takes you some time to be okay with me, alright?"

"…okay."

"I'll go be mad and scary at the people who deserve it, not you."

"You are scary."

Janus chuckles. "I know, sweetie. But I'll try my best not to be scary to you anymore, okay?"

"Okay."

He hesitates for a moment before sighing. "I have to ask…was there any point, at all over these past years where you thought that maybe I was—that I wasn't just the bad guy?"

…one.

***

    "Oh, Janus! I didn't know you were going to be around here for the holidays! Are you going to be in the area for a while? How are you? Please, come in, come in, you must meet Roman!"

In the other room, Roman froze. His heart stuttered. After all his careful planning, with everything going on, it couldn't…

He surged to his feet, reaching the hall just in time to see the villain offer his mother a friendly smile and a hug. Relatives flocked to greet him, happy, all warm curiosity and questions, as if this were normal.

His mother turned, her face lighting up as she saw him. "Ah, there you are! Come here, there's someone I want you to meet—"

Roman gaped. What—how…?

"Actually," the villain broke in softly, "we've already met."

"You know each other?"

"In a manner of speaking," the villain said, smiling slightly, "Roman's a friend from work."

Friend, Roman wanted to scoff, but his throat worked against the word and he swallowed. "What," he managed to gasp out, "are you doing here?"

"Dinner," his mother was saying, "you absolutely must stay for dinner."

"Yes," one of the other relatives began to clamor, soon the whole room joining them, "stay, stay!"

"If you insist," the villain demurred, the picture of propriety, "as long as it's not an imposition."

"Never."

"At least let me help—"

"Absolutely not," his mother said, "I forbid it. In fact, why don't you go for a walk around the neighborhood? It's so pretty with all the snow…yes, that's what you'll do. Roman, you show him around."

The villain looked up and the two locked eyes. He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the door, smile sharpening as his mother watched expectantly.

Roman swallows. "…sure."

And that was how he finds himself outside in the now, walking around the neighborhood with the villain like some ordinary people showing each other around at the eve of the holidays.

"This is a really nice neighborhood," the villain remarked as they strolled, "did you grow up here?"

Roman didn't say anything. The villain knocked their elbows together.

"Roman?"

"What are you doing here," Roman ground out, "what do you want?"

"So frosty," the villain mused, "maybe you should go back inside if it's too cold for you."

Roman snarled, whirling on him but before he could do anything, the villain grabbed his wrist, twisted it away, and had a hand around his throat. He gasped as the grip tightened slightly.

"None of that, now," the villain said lowly, "we don't want to make a scene, do we?"

"How did you find me," Roman rasped out, "how did you find out about my family?"

"I know everything about you," the villain said softly, turning Roman's head back and forth like he was examining an interesting piece of art, "I know where you live, I know your parents, and I know about the secrets you've tried so hard to keep buried."

Roman's eyes widened. He held his breath. The villain looked at him a moment longer before he snorted.

"I'm teasing," he chuckled, "I met your mother at the grocery store the other day while she was shopping. She asked me to help her carry things to her car."

Roman's face contorted and he tried to lunge forward but the hand on his throat stopped him.

"Shh, now," the villain murmured, "we can be done now. You're very threatening and you've done a lovely job, I'm very impressed, but let's be done for now."

"Oh, you two look lovely!"

Roman's head whipped around as his neighbor smiled at him, adjusting her glasses as the villain's hand smoothly adjusted to fix his scarf instead. He forced a smile.

"You two look like a postcard," the old woman says, "have a good walk!"

"Thank you," Roman said, quickly grabbing the villain's arm and starting to walk down the street, "you too."

The villain watched, bemused, as Roman guided them down the street. He glanced down and cocked a brow.

"You're welcome," Roman grumbled.

"Why didn't you say anything," he asked, "you could've called for help."

And you could've killed them, Roman didn't say, so he shrugged. As long as he could keep the villain out of his house, away from his family…

"Sweetie," the villain chuckled, "you are about as subtle as a freight train."

Roman hunched his shoulders. "You've never been interrogated by her."

"Oh?"

"Now that's torture."

"I'll take your word for it."

They walked on. Roman couldn't help but sneak glances at the villain. He did look good, the long black coat, the blood-red scarf…it suited him. He looked like he could be in a magazine campaign or something.

"You're staring," came the villain's soft voice. Roman glanced up to see him smirking and he looked away, cheeks burning as the villain chuckled.

He kept his gaze on the ground as they walked, trying to pretend that this was just a walk. Just a walk, in the snow, at his home. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Just a walk. Just a walk.

The neighborhood really was beautiful. Snow on the pine trees, fairy lights glittering in the soft afternoon. Red and green, blue and yellow, pink and purple. Silver and gold edging along the eaves, snow drifting down from the great empty sky.

A camera clicked behind him.

He turned, mouth open in surprise. The villain stood a few paces back, phone aimed at him as he took another picture.

"Your neighbor was right," he said, walking closer and holding out the phone, "you really do look like a postcard."

Roman's hands trembled as he took the phone. His eyes widened as he looked.

He—he did. He looked like he was on some photoshoot. His hair blew in the wind, his coat looked perfect against the snow. His expression as he looked over his shoulder looked like he was waiting for a partner to catch up. The moment was…perfect.

"I think your mother might want a copy," the villain said softly, "don't you?"

It was too much.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as the emotion welled up, his throat closed. His vision grew cloudy and he glared up at the villain, wondering how he could be so cruel.

But he wasn't cruel. He looked at Roman as if in shock, mouth open, eyes wide. He started toward him.

"R-Roman—"

"Shame on you," another voice said as the old neighbor from further down the street neared them, "for making your nephew cry."

He pointed a stern finger at the villain.

"You make this right with them, sonny," he ordered in a voice that would have been funny had Roman not been crying, "it's bad luck to spend your holidays crying, you hear."

Roman closed his eyes as the crunch of the old neighbor's footsteps passed by. "Let's just keep going."

He hadn't expected the phone to be carefully replaced with a tissue, nor did he expect the villain to carefully cup his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," the villain murmured, sounding genuinely regretful, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

The old man can still hear us. He's just playing the role of a guilty partner. He blew his nose with a despondent honk.

"I didn't even know she was your mother," he continued, "not until she…"

Roman dabbed at his face, huffing a laugh. "I don't think I look much like a postcard anymore."

A gentle hand under his chin. "It looks alright to me," the villain said, "just that you've been out in the cold for a little too long. Still a pretty postcard."

"You think?"

"Yeah," the villain said softly, "I do."

He blinked, suddenly realizing the intimate position they were in. HE pulled back, balling up the tissue and stuffing it into his pocket.

"Um, thanks," he mumbled, "for the tissue."

"Sure."

"Here," he offered, thrusting his hand out for the villain's phone, "let me return the favor."

The villain raised an eyebrow. "You…want to take my picture?"

"Can't just have one postcard."

He blinked, fumbling to get his phone back out and handing it over. "How do you want me?"

"I—um—"

The villain chuckled as Roman glanced around. He spotted a bench that had only a little snow on it.

"Over there."

"The bench?"

"Mhm." The villain walked over, tucking his coat up to sit comfortably. "Yeah, just there."

Roman held up the phone, taking a few pictures as the villain adjusted. When he'd finished making himself comfortable, he folded his hands and leaned forward.

"Should I pose?"

"Just stay like that." He snapped a shot. "Perfect."

"You should be a photographer," he laughed as Roman crouched down to get a better angle.

"I don't think I have the patience for it."

"You seem to be doing pretty well right now."

Roman was about to reply when he caught sight of the villain's soft smile on the screen. The sort of smile he'd seen in movies, or ad campaigns, or anywhere except the villain's face.

He swallowed and took the picture before his hands started to shake.

"Here," he muttered, passing back the phone, "have a look."

The villain took it and whistled lowly, scrolling through the photos. "This is how you see me?"

"It's how the camera saw you."

He huffed. "I've never been this photogenic before."

"Really?" He bit his lip when the villain looked up, raising an eyebrow. "You seemed like you knew what you were doing."

The villain glanced around. "Maybe it's the neighborhood. Makes everything look like a Hallmark movie or something."

A laugh escapes before Roman can stop it. "Maybe they should film one up here. Do some cliche plot that checks off all the marketing boxes and makes all those studio executives and holiday movie-goers happy."

"Yeah," the villain said quietly, "something like that."

Roman looked back, his breath caught in his throat.

The villain was smiling at him again, but he didn't have the camera between them this time. The face that had only ever smirked and grinned at him across gnashing teeth and biting remarks was smiling, as though he was…happy. To be here, with…with Roman.

Like he wanted to be.

In the midst of his pondering, however, he missed the mischief that flickered across the villain's expression before he reached out and pulled Roman onto the bench.

"Whoa—hey!"

Roman tumbled forward, arms flying out to catch himself as he almost fell into the villain's lap. The villain laughed at his undignified sprawl, the camera shutter clicking again just as Roman looked up, making him freeze, still halfway across the bench.

"Did you just—"

The villain lowered the phone, showing them the photo. "Now that's the postcard."

They looked. The villain smiled cheekily at the camera, his arm around Roman to hold him on the bench. He looked like a child too pleased with himself for getting away with something. Roman's face was a breathless smile too, looking up just as he fell. He looked…happy, a child-like wonder he hadn't seen in years shining in his eyes.

He was still pressed against the villain, he realized. The villain's arm was heavy and warm and snug around him, keeping him from falling off the bench. His chest was solid and firm against his side, close enough that he could feel the way it moved as the villain breathed. If he just looked up, he could feel his breath on his face.

He didn't realize his head was moving until he was staring at the villain's profile. The snow drifted down and around them, landing in his hair, on his cheeks, on his collar. It looked soft. He looked…soft.

"See," the villain said quietly, indicating the photo, "it just looks like you've been out in the cold for a while and you've got a cute little red nose."

He looked over at Roman. Their eyes met.

"What do you think?"

They stared at each other for a moment. They were so close.

Abruptly, Roman pulled away, glancing at the photo one more time. He tugged his coat tighter around himself. "We should get back. Dinner's probably almost ready."

Without waiting for a response, he started walking back toward the house. After a few moments, he heard the footsteps and turned to see the villain out of the corner of his eye. They walked in silence for a while.

"…did you really not know it was my mother?"

The villain glanced at him. "No, I didn't."

When they arrived at the front of the house, the villain pulled him to a stop. He reached out and fiddled with Roman's scarf, adjusting it to put it back in place. When he finished, he looked up.

"Do you want me to go," he asked quietly, "I don't…you should…I want the dinner to be nice."

Roman glanced up at the house. "I think Mom would throw a fit if you didn't come in."

His mother loved the photos. She clamored for copies, saying it was a shame they didn't give them in time to be holiday cards. The dinner was…nice. Surreal, yes, strange, but nice.

He walked the villain out afterward. It was dark as they stepped outside, light snow still falling. The villain paused as they turned on the stoop.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Thank Mom," Roman mumbled, "I think she likes you more than me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Roman hugged himself tighter, missing the way the villain's expression twitched.

"But I do have to thank you," they said, stepping closer, "because I know if you really didn't want me there, you would've kicked my ass."

"If you had tried to hurt my mom or my family, I would have," Roman said, even though it didn't sound like a threat.

The villain smiled. "I know."

They stood in silence for a moment, the snow creating a hushed bubble of intimacy. The villain glanced around as a slight gust of wind blew snowflakes toward them.

"Really is like a Hallmark movie, huh?"

"Mhm." Roman looked at him, standing there on the porch. An odd rush of lightness opened his mouth again. "Get home…okay."

He turned to go back inside before this got any weirder when a hand caught his wrist. He looked back as—

The villain leaned close and kissed his cheek, perfectly chaste, lingering for just a moment as warm breath fanned across his face.

"Happy holidays, little hero," the villain whispered before turning and walking down the street.

Roman watched him go, his silhouette fading in the streetlights, one hand on his face to feel where the kiss had been mere moments ago.

***

    "…when you came for dinner," he mumbles, staring at the floor.

Janus makes a noise of recognition. "Your mother is a truly amazing cook."

"Thanks."

Another moment passes.

"It makes sense why you were so scared," he continues, still speaking softly, "and why…well."

"Why what?"

"Why you looked so shocked when I wasn't hurting you."

"Well, yeah. And then you fucking kissed me."

Janus winces. "Sorry about that."

"Why did you do that, exactly?"

He sighs. "Because, sweetie, you were very scared that day and you finally relaxed."

"That doesn't mean you fucking kiss me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Also I don't believe you."

He frowns. "About what?"

"That that's why you kissed me."

"Sweetie—"

"No," Roman growls, trying not to look too much like a wounded animal and probably failing, "you owe me the truth."

"I do," Janus says quietly, looking away for a moment before taking a deep breath. "You didn't really acknowledge…this," he says, gesturing between them, "and I wanted—this wasn't long after I'd—"

Roman tenses and he backs off immediately.

"Right, after that, and I—I wanted to apologize for it in some way. But you weren't bringing it up and I didn't want to cross that line, not with your family right there, not with the holidays so close, and so…I had to find a different way."

"So you kissed me."

"So I kissed you."

"Was it actually a code?"

"No." Janus shakes his head. "No code, no nothing, just…just me."

Roman's quiet for a while. Then: "you're really going to go and yell at the person who didn't brief me properly?"

"Ideally, I want to bring the agency down on their head, but yes, I'm going to go yell at them."

"I-if you do decide to do…more, can you…will you warn me first?"

"Sweetie, I'm not going to do anything unless you want it too. If it were up to me, I'd have whoever this is locked up for life, but it didn't just happen to me, it happened to you too, and that means you get as much of a say as I do. More, even, because it hurt you worse than it hurt me."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

Roman nods, watching as Janus gets up. He glances over his shoulder just as he leaves.

"And if anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to give you a hard time about what happened," he says, "will you come and tell me right away?"

"Will you be scary at them?"

"If that's what you want."

"…okay. I will."

Janus smiles and closes the door softly behind him. He rests against it for just a moment, giving himself one last second to be sorry he couldn't protect Roman from all of this, before he takes out his phone.

"Logan? Hey, yeah. I need your help."

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[undeadorion]

I got so mad I crashed. Like a computer. Brain shut down. No function. I laid down, turned on a video and was out within minutes. Fully zonked out for like an hour. Fury just obliterated my battery.

The incest defender from that post, the one who was harassing a literal minor, had been in my messages since yesterday. This is not a callout post, hence not including their name directly. If you look up who I’m referring to, please just block them. I do not condone harassment.

The conversation was pretty awkward but I assumed best intentions. Even still, there were red flags.

They’d sent me an ask then reblogged in which they insisted Ghost was doing drag. Drag is a very specific thing that is incredibly important to the gay community. Men dressing as men is theater, not drag.

They frequently mentioned they were a feminist. Being a feminist is by no means a bad thing, I am one myself as are anyone I even vaguely consider a friend. But mentioning it in casual conversation multiple times is a major red flag. Worse still is they presented it as if somehow being submissive like in regard to sex or a relationship would somehow be a betrayal to the cause of feminism.

They have a goal of becoming Tobias Forge. As far as I can tell they think if they follow the exact roadmap of his journey they will achieve the exact same thing. If my 8 year old nephew thought that, I’d tell him he could absolutely do it. But this person is a grown ass 30 year old. Like they mentioned not having a role model brother exactly like Tobias as something holding them back. On my post in awe of Tobias changing even the speaking voice of the Papas they literally said they couldn’t wait to have a different voice as if it’s something they’ll just eventually unlock. It’s possible they meant they were working on it, but that’s speculation.

There were a lot of smaller things, too, that just didn’t sit right with me. Like insisting canonically harsh characters are secretly soft. That’s not necessarily a red flag but it’s a warning sign to me.

The real kicker was their behavior in that post. If it was just the incest shipping I would have just blocked them and not even hinted all of this stuff. First, they were openly and knowingly harassing a minor. There can be some overlap in interactions, especially in fandom, between minors and adults. But especially in conflicts, it’s on the adult to actually be the adult. There are times when an adult needs to step in and say something, but a minor venting on their own blog about unavoidable incest isn’t one of those situations. Then there was the bizarre attitude of “you’re only 16 you’re not old enough to understand”, insisting how much they didn’t care. If you didn’t care you would have ignored it. But then digging deeper with “if you don’t like it block it” when not making use of the block button themselves. AND accusing the person of being in their “safe space” somehow.

It’s just disgusting to see people like that, and to have them latch on to me so hard when i literally just entered the fandom. If i weren’t so passionate about it, and if I hadn’t already found good folks, that would have been enough to make me peace out. It’s how fandoms have such a notorious reputation of becoming utterly toxic. The worst people stomp around like they own the place and scare off anyone even vaguely decent.

I guess what I’m saying is I’m bringing my grumpy protective grandpa energy and I’m not fucking leaving. I have never arrived somewhere and felt so completely and immediately like I belong like I did the moment i stepped into this fandom. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect younger and vulnerable fans from toxic garbage like that person.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Bitten - Part Two

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader

Rating: Mature. No explicit material in this one, but the next part will be! Minors, please DNI!

Word Count: 4,100

Warnings: themes of rejection, longing, and disappointment. Also for standard club behavior, a single slap, references to past intimacy, hashing out terms with a dominant sexual partner, and alcohol usage.

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“Hey, you’ll never guess who’s here!” Gemma told you excitedly when you ducked back to the table for a gulp of your drink.

“Who?” you asked innocently. Of course, you knew exactly who was there: Broadside. It was like you had a special ability to sense whether he was in a crowd - or, on one of your better days, whether he was looking in your direction or not. 

Your fixation on the pilot hadn’t faded with time or lack of attention. It was ridiculous, even a little sad, you could admit that much. But when you shared the same space during down time, Broadside always fell into conversation with you, smiling at you any time you entered a room he was in. He helped you with some of your duties scheduling maintenance for the ships, and every interaction only pushed you further toward obsession. 

It was to the point that everything done in Broadside’s presence felt… performative. Like you were showing off for him even when you were just doing what you normally would be. Of course, that was done intentionally tonight. You had suggested 79’s knowing he would be here and dressed to impress. You had gotten a drink when you may have skipped it on another night, chatting and laughing with Gemma more exaggeratedly than you normally would have. Even the trooper you were dancing with had been positioned so that you were dancing where Broadside could clearly see you.

“Wolffe!” Gemma reported. 

The answer was so unexpected that you could only frown at your friend in confused silence for a moment. “...Wolffe?”

“You know,” she said with a vague gesture. “Wolffe. The commander who rocked your galaxy so hard that you forgot about Mister Perfect for a little while?”

“I remember,” you said, forcing a small laugh but not offering any other answer.

Wolffe had been amazing… maybe too amazing. He had distracted you. Admittedly, that was what you had wanted to happen, but you hadn’t expected it to be so all-encompassing. After your time with the commander, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. It had been like having another Broadside, but somehow worse. Your connection with Wolffe felt sharper, deeper. Ridiculous, since you couldn’t even charitably say you had shared a conversation. You had just fucked. It had felt good - in fact, ‘good’ seemed like too simple a term for it - but you hadn’t felt right about your preoccupation afterward.

So you hadn’t commed him. 

Somewhere between the end of her shift and disappearing with Gemma, Ieri had slipped you a napkin with a string of numbers written in a neat hand. Clearly, Ieri had been the one to write it down, but you trusted that it was the accurate comm code. However, she hadn’t written his name on it. Instead, she had labeled it with a simple ‘W’. 

You had narrowed your eyes at Ieri for that one, waving the napkin between you. “What, he didn’t want you to put his full name?”

“Are you kidding?” Ieri had asked. “If anyone knew Wolffe was between partners right now, they’d stun you in a heartbeat for that comm code. He’s a popular man. I can’t take the chance you’ll lose it and then I’m responsible for the dozens of calls he’ll get.”

That had created more questions than it answered, and you frowned at the pretty Zeltron. “So he’s some kind of lady’s - well, and gentleman’s - man?”

Ieri had given an indelicate snort, one loud enough to be heard over the music. “Not even close. People just… they want what he has to offer.”

No, you hadn’t called Wolffe… but you still had the napkin tucked away in a safe spot in your bedroom. Gemma had kept you up-to-date about when the so-called Wolfpack was on Coruscant, and you had been tempted more than once to take Wolffe up on his offer, but you never had. Wolffe was great, but you weren’t willing to risk losing yourself just to get Broadside out of your head.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Gemma asked, pulling you back to the current moment.

“Nothing,” you told her with a shrug. “I’ve got a good thing going with a trooper on the dance floor. I think I may end up going home with him.”

“Suit yourself,” Gemma said, shaking her head doubtfully. “I don’t know why anyone would pass up tall, menacing, and cybernetic, but that’s your choice. An incorrect one.” She may have been trying for discretion by muttering the last part into her drink, but since the comment had still been loud enough to cut through the din of 79’s, you didn’t want to give her too much credit for tact.

“Just because you’re deliriously happy in a committed relationship doesn’t mean the rest of us are itching to follow your lead,” you retorted, smiling to take the sting out of it. Gemma and Ieri had been inseparable since that first night. They were sweet together… when they weren’t being jaw-droppingly public with their physical affection.

“Yeah…” Gemma drawled, sarcasm dripping from every one of the too-many syllables she gave the word. “You’re a paragon of polyamory.”

You made a face at her, but you were having too much fun to take her teasing seriously, much less be offended by it. Besides, you had done what you had wanted by coming to 79’s - you had made sure Broadside saw you. After all, familiarity was the primary requirement for attraction. Sure, you weren’t going home with Broadside that night, but there was another very attractive trooper who thought you were interesting enough. 

Overall, it was a very pleasant way to spend an evening. 

When you glanced at the dance floor, you caught the eyes of the trooper in question, and you made a mental note to find out his name before things went too much farther. The noisy club could excuse a lot of things, but it would just be awkward to ask at a certain point.

The unnamed trooper lifted a single eyebrow and you smiled at him. You both took that combination as a sign that you should return to the dance floor, and you were blissfully dancing together only moments later. You were steadily losing yourself in his swaying and the way his hands wrapped around your hips…

“Excuse me,” someone said loudly, knocking you slightly forward as they cut between you and the trooper. 

You glanced up, heart pausing and then pounding viciously as you recognized the intruder as Broadside. 

Your dance partner didn’t seem nearly as excited to see Broadside as you were, and scowled at the new arrival. “What the kriff? Do you mind? We were in the middle of something-”

“I think you were in the middle of leaving, vod,” Broadside told him, the words bit out sharply.

The trooper looked at you for confirmation. You shrugged apologetically. He was sexy and seemed… nice… you had never actually spoken to him, though, so how were you to know? He was sexy, but Broadside was Broadside. He was the man who made your chest ache when he smiled. And now, when his face was half-creased in an expression of displeasure, your ribs ached with the effort to hold in a laugh as you realized he might actually be jealous. 

When the other man had left in a huff, you tilted your chin playfully at Broadside. “You know, if you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask.”

Broadside shook his head, returning your grin as he picked up where the other trooper had left off. Admittedly, he wasn’t nearly as skilled a dancer, but what did that matter? You were dancing with your crush. There was a chance your flirtations with another man had spurred him into action. 

It wasn’t the lovelorn confession of long-stifled feelings you had wanted, but you would take it. 

When Broadside’s hands rose to follow the dip of your waist, then the swell of your ribs, you thought you might actually hyperventilate. There may never be a better chance than this, so you were going to take full advantage of it. 

“You know, Broadside,” you said, striving for a conversational tone that could still be heard over the roaring crowd and thumping music. It wasn’t an easy balance. “There’s something I’ve wanted to say for-”

“Hey,” Broadside interrupted, only then noticing your startled expression. “Sorry, we’ll get back to that in a minute, but do you see the Mirialan girl behind me?”

“Yeah..?”

“Is she looking at us?”

You were instantly on-edge, alert in the face of an impending threat. Was this girl someone who liked Broadside? Was she going to try to compete for his attention? Was she obsessed with him? When you scanned the crowd, you found a girl watching you with sharp eyes, suspicion and jealousy filling her expression. 

But you also saw a Mirialan girl and found that she looked vaguely interested at best. Who was that other girl? you thought, bristling. When you looked back, she was still staring, face shifting colors with the lights overhead. 

With the alcohol and the seething crowd in the background, you hadn’t immediately recognized yourself, but you could clearly see the mirror now. You made a conscious effort to smooth your expression before you looked back at Broadside, who was watching you with curiosity on his face.

“Yes?” you answered belatedly.

“Does she look irritated?” Broadside caught your blank stare and hurried to add, “Like she’s mad I’m dancing with another girl and wants to come over here and dance with me instead?”

Your stomach clenched so hard you thought you might vomit. “Uh, no. Why?”

Broadside visibly slumped. “I’m trying to make her jealous. If she doesn’t look upset, it’s obviously not working.” 

And there it was. 

You felt so stupid, so irritated with yourself for falling for this again. The alcohol and disappointment mixing in the pit of your stomach sharpened your senses, gave you the perspective you had been lacking lately. You were being ridiculous about this, about liking someone who was never going to feel the same way about you in return.

Maybe your preoccupation with Broadside had reached an obsession, but could you really be blamed for believing it could be something more when he did things like dance with you in clubs or have comm conversations with you late into the night? You were partially at fault here, but could the blame truly be laid at your feet alone?

It was too much self-reflection after such a long time spent deep in denial. You still felt like vomiting and you were growing increasingly worried you were going to do something embarrassing, like burst into tears and demand that Broadside love you back. Or ask him whether he knew just how much he had led you on. Maybe that would even be healthy…

Before you had a chance of forming a semi-objective opinion about that, you realized that Broadside was talking again. He was still dancing - maybe he had never stopped. You were swaying awkwardly back and forth in front of him, still in touching distance. For the first time you could remember, you weren’t even tempted to touch him. 

“Should we kiss?” Broadside asked, clearly oblivious to your line of thought.

You considered it, you really did. You had wanted this for so long, even if the situation was drastically different than you would have preferred. Your brain immediately sprang into action, throwing out every justification it could come up with: 

You’ve spent so much time thinking about this, you may as well take advantage.

If you’re really ready to move past him, helping him get another girl is a good way to prove it. 

And, most desperately, Maybe kissing you would change his mind.

With more effort than you were proud of, you pushed the thoughts and temptations away. You shook your head. “No, competition won’t do the trick here, but I can think of one thing that might work. Do you trust me?”

“With my life and everything else,” Broadside immediately replied, eyes shining with endearing earnestness. 

That look paired with those words broke your heart a bit. Still, you took a savage joy in slapping him soundly across the face. 

It sounded a lot worse than it was. Broadside’s head moved only as much as necessary to accept the blow and there was no sign of hurt on his face, only confusion. To everyone else, though, it must have looked serious. The immediate crowd fell awkwardly silent, no conversations filling the gaps in the pulsing music as they tried to figure out what had just happened. It was both disappointing and satisfying that the Mirialan girl finally looked interested in what was happening. 

“Now go to the bar, act confused, and let her comfort you.” You gave Broadside a slightly watery wink to accompany the instructions. “Good luck.” 

He smiled at you, his lips moving as he said something in reply, but you were already turning away. 

The crowded dance floor seemed to swim across your vision, but you navigated out of it with enough presence of mind to aim toward the refreshers. Ieri’s lovely face slowly pulled from the crowd, drawn into an expression of concern. “Are you okay?”

You waved her off. “Fine. Excuse me.”

By the time you reached the refreshers, you were nearly desperate for a semi-private place to nurse your wounds. For once, there wasn’t a line of patrons waiting to use the private, closet-like stalls. 

The 79’s refreshers weren’t your favorite place. They were all unisex, which cut down on the line… assuming no one had decided to hook up in one. The staff at 79’s did their best to keep the refreshers ruthlessly clean, but that just made things more odd. The air was scented with harsh chemicals and sweet perfume. The grime-free floor was littered with paper and a condom - thankfully unused, though you weren’t going to start digging through trash cans. The mirror had likely started the day clean, but it was now covered in lipstick kisses and some graffiti.

Despite your typical feelings about them, you were profoundly grateful to close yourself in the refresher and let yourself fall apart. It took less time than expected, though. After a short burst of tears - the ones you had been holding in - you were left feeling numb. When you saw your reflection in the mirror, you looked… shocked.

That was accurate. 

You gave yourself another few minutes to reduce the risk of a breakdown in public, but you could hear a line forming outside as 79’s hit peak occupancy. After swiping a paper towel soaked in cool water beneath your eyes, you vacated the stall, watching as a giggling couple took your place. 

For a moment, you stared blankly at the crowd of people on the dance floor, but it was no use. You didn’t feel up to acting casual enough to find a partner for the evening, especially since Broadside had ruined your best chance of a hook-up. Drinking didn’t seem like a great idea in your current frame of mind. Honestly, the best thing would probably be to leave, go home and process things in a safe, quiet space.

No sooner had you decided that was the best course of action than you became aware of a figure standing nearby.

Wolffe was tucked along one of the walls, watching the dance floor as he sipped from a glass that had probably once held whiskey, but now seemed to hold little but ice. His arms were crossed and his cybernetic eye gleamed in the flashing, multicolored beams of light that shone around the room. He looked bored and thoroughly unimpressed, and neither of those expressions changed as you offered him a fresh glass of whiskey you had retrieved from the bar.

His mismatched eyes traveled from the glass in your hand to your face, studying you with an intensity that made you slightly nervous. You took a drink from your own glass in an attempt to avoid his scrutiny.

“Hyperdrive?”

You paused, blinking at the unfamiliar question as you swallowed the mouthful of your drink. Of course Wolffe remembered your drink order from your only previous interaction. Well, and why not? You had certainly remembered his. 

“Uh, no,” you said, glancing down into your glass. “It’s a Bespin Fizz.”

Wolffe nodded, sipping from his glass. He gave an appreciative hum that put your body on-edge, then nodded at your hand. “Any good?”

“No,” you said with a rueful smile. “But I wanted to try something different.”

Wolffe hummed again, but didn’t offer any other reply. Instead, he continued to watch the dance floor in silence. You deflated at being ignored. The night had already been rough enough that you were doubting your own attractiveness, and Wolffe wasn’t helping. Not that it was his responsibility to do so, of course, but still…

Just as you were ready to mumble an excuse and melt away, Wolffe jutted his chin toward the dance floor. “Not much excitement since you left.”

You winced. “You saw that?”

“Yeah.” Wolffe glanced sideways at you. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was unconvincing even to your own ears. “No, actually.”

He nodded slowly, like he had known your answer all along. “Want me to have my guys mess with him?”

The unexpected offer brought a startled laugh to your lips. “No, that’s okay. But maybe…”

You trailed off, courage faltering even when Wolffe spurred you on with a sharply raised brow. Still, he waited for you to speak rather than ask what you were trying to say. When you managed to force the words out, they spilled from you in a violent rush: “Couldyoudistractmeagain?”

Wolffe’s mask of indifference was incredible - he did little more than pause a moment before he had a reply for you. “Why didn’t you comm?”

“What?” you asked, certain you had misheard him, but he only watched you steadily and took a sip of his drink. “I- I didn’t think you would notice. Not notice, really,” you altered hastily when he tilted his head in a manner that managed to look displeased. “More like care. Ieri told me you’re popular. No, wait. She said that people want what you have to offer.”

The look Wolffe gave you at that managed to be both inscrutable and utterly disapproving. “And?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want to risk getting in the middle of something. You know, if you were already seeing someone or something.”

“First, I don’t get involved with someone if I’m already seeing someone else,” Wolffe told you, voice firm. “Second, only one of us is emotionally attached to someone right now.”

Your breath huffed out automatically at that, as if your body itself was acknowledging the solid blow he had landed on your psyche. The immediate instinct screaming through you was to reply, to throw something - anything - back at him. But you were still reeling from the hit and could only stand there, watching him. 

Wolffe’s gaze was pitiless. “I don’t normally let people use me this way-”

“Use you?” you repeated, horrified at the implications of that. 

“This is the second time you’ve come asking for a distraction,” Wolffe pointed out. “With no intention of offering anything in return either time. What else would you call it?”

Your self-esteem took another hit. You had assumed that being with someone was its own reward, but Wolffe was making it sound like he had done you a favor. “I didn’t realize last time was such an imposition.”

“It wasn’t.”

For the second time in this conversation, you were left gaping at him. “Then what are we talking about, here?”

One side of Wolffe’s mouth curled in a mocking sort of smile. “This game we play - the game you were so eager to play last time - is all about power dynamics. You asked me for a distraction the first time and I gave it. A favor, a step into the game. Now you’re asking for another.” 

You could feel your eyes widen throughout his explanation. For one thing, you were pretty sure it was the longest speech you had ever heard him make. But more surprising than Wolffe’s sudden verbosity was your own reaction: you were intently interested, your mouth dry and your pulse pounding through your body. 

Wolffe shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes trained on you. “All I need to do is decide whether to give you a favor or ask you for something in return.”

“I’ll give you anything,” you said breathlessly, then could have kicked yourself. What a stupid offer to make, especially when the man had just told you that it was all a power game. You had surrendered all of your power immediately. 

Wolffe must have seen your self-censure, because he chuckled. It was a low sound, surprisingly rich as it curled around you even through the thumping music. 

His laughter made you smile despite yourself. “Within reason. What is the going rate for this kind of favor?”

“For this? Considering the show you put on when you were on the dance floor?” Wolffe fell silent while he thought about it, but his gaze was anything but absent as he studied you. He seemed to be tallying up a total in his mind, and you could only hope you had the ability to pay his price. “No charge. Instead, I’ll make you a deal.”

Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring. You frowned at him. “What kind of a deal?”

“If we finish up and you don’t feel the urge to comm, you’re in the clear. If you’re totally satisfied but want nothing more, you never need to talk to me again.” Wolffe’s scrutiny increased until you felt ready to squirm under its weight. “But if you want more, you have to initiate it. You have to comm me.”

“And if I do comm you?” you asked, trying to push words through your dry lips. “What is the next step?”

“We’ll set up a meeting and see about making a more permanent arrangement.”

Without any further explanation, Wolffe held his hand out for you to shake. You eyed it for a moment, but couldn’t claim that the offer was anything less than fair. If he really had been doing you a favor last time and you were asking him for another, it was only right that he got to set some terms. And if he really wasn’t out of your system after this, maybe you should consider getting together with him on a regular basis. 

If nothing else, he could probably drive Broadside from your mind permanently. 

You pushed away the surge of relief that rose in you at the thought - there would be time for self-reflection later. In that precise moment, your main focus was on Wolffe and the pleasure you hoped to share with him, whether or not that led to something more. 

You shook his hand. 

As his fingers slowly slipped from yours after giving a single, weighty shake, Wolffe watched you. He had been doing exactly that most of the time you had spent together, his attention fixed on you despite watching the dance floor at several key moments. However, this look was different. It was patient, it was… expectant. 

“Do I have your permission to touch you?”

You tilted your head at him, offering a bemused smile. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to ask permission.”

“Not tonight, not necessarily,” Wolffe told you. “Tonight, I want to make you feel good, show you what this game has to offer. If you’re good with it, the only thing I want you to do is take in all the pleasure you can handle. Tell me to stop if you need me to, but I’m asking for blanket permission.”

“Sounds like something I can do,” you agreed, trying not to sound too eager.

Wolffe nodded slowly. He didn’t respond, and the silence stretched between you - a trick in the middle of the sheer volume of 79’s. 

Eventually, you broke that silence with a half-chuckle. “Should I find Ieri? You know, ask for the storage room key again?”

The corners of Wolffe’s mouth twitched upward, but he shook his head and began to walk away. You trailed behind him with his simple order still rumbling through your mind: “Follow me.”

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Author's Note - as usual with my two-part fics, this part wasn't very spicy, but the next one will be almost entirely spice. You've been warned!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, holidays are over and Im regularly taking the bus again so its time to read A Court of Mist and Fury. I've made through the prologue and the first three chapters and I feel like I already have a lot of thoughts so Im splitting them into two posts. This one is just gonna be random silly bullshit that I wanted to mention but dont have any deep thoughts on, the next one is gonna be my thoughts about the character development that happened between the books

why does Sarah J Maas always seem to use the vaguely pagan (?) moon and moon cycle imagery when theres like, an all-woman religious institution in her books. Like, Ianthe has that tattoo on her forehead and shes dressed in blue robes and wears a lot of silver and it reminded me of that one random aside in Crescent City where we hear about those priestesses that worship the goddess Luna, like with the robes and headbands and stuff, when theyre first initiated they get a headband with a waxing crescent moon, then when theyre at their peak they get one with a full moon and when they get older they get one with a waning crescent. Like, obviously I know that the moon is associated with with witchcraft and feminine magic and whatnot so it makes sense in a doylist sense, but like, whats the in-universe explanation

You know what, maybe I do have deep thoughts about some of this stuff, what the hell is up with the High Priestesses? Theres twelve of them ?? for some reason?? Theyre said to be the advisors of the high lords on top of their religious duties, so if there were gonna be more than seven, I would think there would be 14, two for each court. But they actually appear to be wholly seperate, like they just dont belong to any particular court. And thats weird to me, but Prythian is technically one united kingdom (get it, cuz the map looks like fucking great britain for some reason) despite some of their inter-court tension so maybe that makes sense. But then WHY do they have such a Night Court-core aesthetic, wearing dark blue (night sky) and silver (stars) with tattoos. If they were an institution thats completely seperate from the courts, I feel like they should use imagery/an aesthetic thats not already kinda taken by another court. Like, idk, rainbows maybe, thats the only thing I can think of rn and it could also make them a symbol of Prythian's unity or something

This is only tangentially related, but how come the Night Court doesnt seem to have any moon imagery associated with it? I say seem to because I havent actually seen it yet, but from the fanart and from what I can remember from cari can read's summary, its all stars and darkness and dreams but not the moon??? which is the thing I personally associate most with night but okay

I was not expecting a sex scene in the first three chapters and I was especially not expecting Feyre to describe her having an orgasm as "I passed away". Granted, that might just be the german translation being weird, I dont have access to the original english but still. Then again, I guess they dont call it the little death for nothing

Speaking of the sex scene, I thought the people saying this were joking but no, she was literally asking him about the political implications of their marriage on some random ass night while they were getting it on, thats hilarious. And then she got TURNED OFF when Tamlin told her there werent any high ladies this series shouldve been a comedy

Last thing I wanted to mention is the use of the formal and informal yous in the translation, which is still really good. As a reminder, du/dir = informal you; Sie/Ihnen = formal you; Euch/Ihren = the most formal you, usually reserved for nobility. Feyre used Euch/Ihren for all the high fae in the first book (atleast for the first half, I havent really kept track of the pronoun usuage), Tamlin and Lucien used du/dir for Feyre, Alis used Euch/Ihren for Feyre. In this book, all the servants still refer to her by Euch/Ihren but Feyre, Tamlin and Lucien are all on a du/dir basis with each other now. Also, Feyre uses Euch/Ihren for Ianthe and honestly, that alone says so much about how important she is within the court, I feel like I didnt even need an explanation of what exactly she does, but this book was written in english qhere they dont have that so I get it

[adultswim2021]

Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job #17: “Robin” | January 7, 2008 - 12:15AM | S02E07

This could be my least favorite episode of the series so far, which is really too bad. The Robin wraparound, in which Eric buys Tim his own Robin Williams, is funny and quite memorable. Everything else is sorta middling for various reasons. In that wraparound, Robin is played by David Born, who is a noted Robin Williams impersonator. He has a pretty legit career as a character and voice actor. Recently some friends and I spotted him in the Chuck Norris/Jonathan Brandis film Sidekicks, which featured him in a minor role. We all thought he looked familiar and looked him up, shocked to see that he was the titular Robin from this episode. 

Tim and Eric’s comedy is sorta interesting in that it seems like it’s fairly good at not relying on specific cultural references almost at all. But they also love bad celebrity impersonators, which indirectly is a cultural reference in of itself. Some people might be too young to know who Robin Williams is at all. It’s important to know that Robin was often derided by other comics but they’d usually take it all back after meeting him; by all accounts he was one of the nicest guys in the world.

The annoying hyperactive persona on display here is pretty accurate. But the ending (featuring a cameo from Keith Crawford, I think?) where Robin shows up to give Tim & Eric a thumbs up for reuniting and doing their thing on stage is also very accurate; he was indeed a fan of comedy, and sought out things that were cutting-edge. I do believe that he liked Tim & Eric and I vaguely recall Tim talking about meeting him and having a very positive experience.

Going further back, if you watch Bob Odenkirk and David Cross’ sketches on Comic Relief, they are notably a cut above what anyone else was doing on that show. But Billy Crystal and Whoopi Goldberg would furrow their brow and act like what they did was too weird too be funny. I remember Whoopi shaking her head after their sketch and saying “I must be getting old.” Robin was the outlier in being supportive of those guys, and was clearly a fan.

When I saw the Comedians of Comedy Show in San Francisco, I was hanging out in line with some friends. While driving in, I did what my mom always does, which is point to the hillside where Robin Williams house was. “You know Robin Williams lives over there” I said, mocking my mother unnecessarily. Naturally, Robin became a running topic on that trip. For some reason I started reminiscing about a particular ad advertising Burger King toys for the film Jumanji. This involved me imitating the ad, which cried the name of the movie over and over. As I was doing this, Robin fucking Williams speed-walked past me and got in line for the show. He was just there to be a comedy fan, and some dipshit is screaming the name of one his movies, completely gratuitously. A hilarious coincidence, sure. But man, I felt like a schmuck. I ain’t trying to make Robin Williams feel weird about attending the same show I am!

As for the rest of this episode: we got Dressed to Impress, which is a decent Dougpound bit. We got Dunngeon, which features Richard Dunn in a mesh shirt interviewing Dave Navarro. Dave plays his part pretty straight, and you almost wanna believe that when he gets up and leaves in the middle of the sketch that it’s a genuine moment. The outtakes on the DVD show him giggling during the shooting, so I wouldn’t take it too seriously. Tim & Eric play a German goth band. It’s not very strong; in fact I forgot these characters ever existed.

There’s Demons, which is a hidden camera prank thing that sorta devolves to a point where it didn’t really need to be a hidden camera prank. Tim & Eric hold auditions for a fake horror movie and over-laugh at a mild gaffe and then share an awkward group hug with, I believe, Stephanie Courtney, acting as another producer. This bit isn’t very satisfying. I remember promos making use of this footage in a more effective way, featuring footage of the actors acting scary that wasn’t in the actual episode. They end it with a clip of Will Forte from season one gently saying “I’m a demon”, a line I was never super fond of. Brandon please don’t put that on our discord soundboard. Please. 

Noted wad Rainn Wilson appears in a sketch about an Encyclopedia that just lists numbers. Honestly, this is an okay sketch. But my aversion to Rainn Wilson is just too strong. I don’t want misery inflicted on anyone, but I would experience significant schadenfreude if he were to ever be found out to be a despicable human being. I envision white supremacist compound for him, with maybe a smattering of sex trafficking. I’m not saying I’ve heard anything; I’m unfairly profiling him based on finding his personality abrasive in interviews. I remember growing to despise him while listening to The Office DVD commentary tracks. Why the fuck was I listening to The Office DVD commentary tracks, anyway? I believe both Rainn Wilson and the Dunngeon set (I’ll be surer when I see the episode again) gets reused in Tim & Eric Nite Live.

Pound for pound, this might be the weakest episode yet. But it’s far from worthless.

EPHEMERA CORNER

New Year’s First on the First (January 1, 2008)

On January 1st, Adult Swim did a cool marathon where they played the first episode of each of their shows in reverse chronological order of when they aired. This included a rebroadcast of the original Brak Show pilot “Leave It to Brak”, which was later reworked into “Mr. Bawk Ba Gawk”. The pilot version had drawn backgrounds instead of photo-realistic ones. This was the first time they aired this pilot on Adult Swim proper. It’s original airing was a stealth showing on Cartoon Network, before Adult Swim was a thing.

Notably, they sometimes swapped the first-aired episode for the first-produced episode. Also I can pick out a few things where they didn’t seem to always go by strict reverse chronological order, at least not by air date. Here’s the schedule (as always, thank you swimpedia):

11:00 Fat Guy Stuck in Internet: Threshold

11:15 The Drinky Crow Show: Mermaid

11:30 Superjail!: Bunny Love

11:45 That Crook'd 'Sipp: That Tree of Strife

12:00 Xavier: Renegade Angel: What Life D-D-Doth

12:15 Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!: Dads

12:30 Saul of the Mole Men: A New Friend

12:45 Assy McGee: Murder by the Docks

1:00 Frisky Dingo: Meet Killface

1:15 Metalocalypse: The Curse of Dethklok

1:30 Moral Orel: The Lord's Greatest Gift

1:45 Minoriteam: Operation Blackout!

2:00 Lucy, the Daughter of the Devil: He's Not the Messiah, He's a DJ

2:15 12 oz. Mouse: Hired

2:30 Squidbillies: This Show Is Called Squidbillies

2:45 Robot Chicken: The Deep End

3:00 Tom Goes to the Mayor: Bear Traps

3:15 Perfect Hair Forever: Perfect Hair Forever

3:30 Stroker & Hoop: C.A.R.R. Trouble (a.k.a. Feelin' Dirty)

4:00 The Venture Bros.: The Terrible Secret of Turtle Bay (Director's Cut)

4:30 Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Rabbot

4:45 Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law: Bannon Custody Battle

5:00 Sealab 2021: I, Robot

5:15 The Brak Show: Leave It to Brak*

5:30 Space Ghost Coast to Coast: Spanish Translation

5:45 Space Ghost Coast to Coast: Gilligan

[intrepidradish]

Ooooh hell let's talk about Grayza too. She's awful! I don't know which writer left the table for this character to escape containment without a single sympathetic angle. It's like a bunch of men brainstormed for 5 minutes on what an example of a fascist sexually liberated woman would look like and created a tits out woman with pencil thin brows. (Being that I know a few doms with pencil thin brows even twenty years after the 00s, that's the only accurate part of her portrayal and it does make my blood run cold. Nice work.)

But let's humor the concept for a moment, they didn't even commit to the bit. This is Farscape! The definition of committing to the bit. If Grayza is a dominant woman that seduces her underlings with the pheromone trope, than how come she doesn't have Meeklo in a speedo? How come everyone is fully clothed? If we're going to reference the raunchy, fear-of-powerful-woman, sci fi tropes here, how come she doesn't carry a whip? How come she's not attended to by sexually slaves? Literal zombies, yaknow?

They could have really taken it up a notch. She could have been a horse girl (references the female cop tropes too). Jim Henson alien horse puppets? The fucking balls of a woman to have a huge pet on a command carrier. She could've delivered her weird pheromone through a heel spur (foot fetish). She could've had her male slaves dressed for ponyplay. She could've seduced women too. She could've had like vacuum beds and kept her slaves organized for her whims. Like jeezus. Just commit to the bit.

But if we don't humor the idea of Grayza, what's her deal? Okay, so in the 60s when a lot of men were writing science fiction stories, rape and women were a pretty oft talked about phenomena. A lot of these stories theorized that in a sexually free society, where women stopped being so fucking frigid, rape simply wouldn't exist. MAGIC SPARKLES. Because, of course, in the minds of some dudes, sexual violence simply doesn't happen to men (wrong) and the issue with rape is not an issue of autonomy but an issue of culture (also wrong). We have rape in our society because we aren't free thinking enough about fucking everyone nasty. Uh-huh. Okay. Very wrong.

Right, so this is actually fun stuff to reference in modern sci fi because it is so laughably stupid. But Farscape doesn't really tackle it. It only introduces it, and then drops it entirely. In the first episode of season 4, Chiana finds Crichton on Elac, and admits that she tested her future sight by gambling, was caught, brutalized, and raped. Oh. That's terrible! Crichton doesn't really care. Okay. Hm. The only time this is referenced again is when Chiana is acting aggressive to others and Crichton is like "oh give her some space." ... Okay. Well, I find that vaguely disappointing of everyone.

This rolls into Arnessk, which is all about rape. Crichton is raped that's pretty clear. I've spoken a little about Scorpius's abuse too. I don't think people view Grayza's treatment of him as rape, but in the kink community, just because someone likes torture and pain doesn't mean they enjoy it from everyone. I think its pretty sad that Scorpius gets tortured, is like 'this is fine because I'm enjoying it', and then he gets all his motor controls taken away with drugs. I'm not sure I can call it rape, but it is a violation, and it can be considered a sexual one knowing that he often experiences pleasure from pain. I know the kink aspect gets confusing for some people, because 'well he said he liked it' but... I also think Scorpius makes do with terrible situations and has his entire life. Just because someone can manage trauma (can he? has he) doesn't mean he should continue to experience it.

Uuuh, so. Crichton also doesn't get any time to process his rape...at all...? He gets a drug from Noranti to forget about Aeryn, but... wouldn't it make more sense, from a storytelling point of view, to interweave that harrowing experience with Grayza into why he might be distant from Aeryn? Instead, maybe he's drugging himself to cope? Instead, it's just ignored, and the fear Crichton had for Scorpius (his abuses are numerous) is never the same fear he has for Grayza (always deferring to the fear of getting caught but never the fear of having his mind taken away).

We never get much insight into Scorpius, since he doesn't share feelings, but it's also a constant theme in this season that he exposes himself to pain, bad situations, death because he can handle it. Even when those situations do hurt him (and not in like a sexy fun way either). No one questions this. It is seen as pretty helpful...*narrows eyes*

In Twice Shy, a woman who is being sexually abused by traders is taken on Moya. It turns out she's another spider lady, and she's eating people. This is a weird one too. This is also the only time Chiana kisses another woman (do it more, you cowards). The sexual victim turned dangerous predator is another one of those old pulp fiction tropes. Just a disappointing episode when viewed in this transparent light. The spider dies, etc etc.

Throughout all of this, Grayza doesn't get any more depth. She's seen using Braca a few times. She doesn't even have sex with him, just lies that they did, but why? Why. Why. Why. Make her scary or something? Do anything with her. But no.

Lots of thoughts this morning.

[gayspock]

ok miniseries liveblog . night 1

okay so for the record. what i know about battlestar galactica going into it: it's a remake of a series from the 70s; to my understanding, it's a slightly "darker" tone in comparison to other sci-fi shows of its time; ive heard vague, mixed things about later seasons of the show but i heard vague rumblings about farscape s4 & pk wars so idk what to think fo that; and that's listerally about it

i genuinely dont know anything plot-wise im going to just go into this completely blind starting with miniseries

OKAY. we're opening with a blonde girlie sucking tongue. how does this bode for the rest of the show? well we'll see. also i cant tell if all blonde girlies look the same or if she looks like skyler white.

well now whos this smart looking gent with the circular specs. does he have issues in the head-

OKAY HANG ON

WHOS THE GIRLIE WITH THE ARMS, NOUGHTIES BOY BAND HAIR, AND THE CIGAR CAN WE PAN BACK PLEASE-

STARBUCK? YOU CALLED THIS WOMAN STARBUCK?

WELL WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER GIRLIE WHOS SHE. THERES WOMEN HERE. DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT.

i know shes the one in the right here. sorry. but whats the point of balding, divorcing men if you cant take the mick out of them. theyre like bruises to poke at.

also referring to how i knew jack shit going in: i dont know why, but in my head this was going to be a bit crunchier despite knowing its from '03. kind of sad. i wanted some ugly shit BUT in fairness those cylons were pretty funny looking, too

oh its red dress woman again

IS SHE ABOUT TO KILL THAT BABY?

COME ON GIRLIE.

also im fascinated - hey.... sorry red dress woman reappeared again , not in a red dress but instead in that sheer little number? okay.... all is forgiven... like. maybe it wasnt even her fault.. maybe shes allowed to kill babies like its just a #woman moment ... can women fucking do anything these days like please

oh now shes eating face . busy schedule with this woman

also my interest is piqued btw i should say that. im always a fan of artifical lifeforms BU

CAN YOU BE POLITE TO THE LITTLE MECHANIC GUY WHOS JUST SO EAGER AND HERE TOHELP. i will also say theres so many people here. do i have to remember allthese people. and i reemmber 0 names. smile.

like this. is this the other woman from earlier-

are they

WHYS EVERYONE SUCKING AND FUCKING

OKAY I LIKED HER AND I LIKED HIM SO I SHANT COMPLAIN BUT MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME. i liked polite mechanic guy whats his name. and like i said the girlie is cute too. i love women.

oh fuck back to red dress lass and fucking GAIUS i remember his name because hes got long hair, he's shorter and his name is fucking GAIUS . can you not take the piss out of blondie's religion. she literally kills babies she can kill you too i dont doubt.

i hate gaius' voice. fucking gaius

sorry i dont know why im this strongly against gaius i just feel violent today. i dont mean it. maybe gaius is nice. maybe i will be affectionate towards gaius. but i kind of want to kick him around like a football.

theres also this polite young man i see with the curly hair and the sensible yet charming little suits

I LIKE THE OLDER GUY WHO HAD GLASSES. THE IN CHARGE GENT. I LIKE HIM THUS FAR. YEAH. DONT LET THEM NETWORK THIS BITCH. SO TRUE.

oh hey starbucks

starbuck

frappycunio

DONT FUCKING SHACK HER UP WITH THIS LAD EITHER. YOU BETTER NOT. HE'S GOT A RAT FACE. IS THIS THE LAD WHOS MEANT TO FLY THE THINGY. YEAH

oh so it's "lee" is it. with the dead brother. ii dont care. starbuck and lee it doesnt even make sense.

and going BACK hi red dres- HE DID N OT. I KNEW IT. FUCKIN GAIUS. SLAG. MAN SLAG I KNEW IT. I TOLD YOU. LETS KICK HIM ABOUT LIKE A FOOTBALL. HE'LL SQUEAK

hi lee.

OH

MISTER IN CHARGE IS DIVORCED. EPIC.

and lee hates him. oh i love it when there's family strife. girls. FIGHT.

back to gaius and blondie

"you knew i was different" blondie maybe he just thought you had the tism . its charming. that autistic rizz.

ibtw towards gaius to clarify , i wasnt HOSTILE-HOSTILE towards gaius before just thinking about teething with him but now hes kind of whimpering and it slike so im giggling MORE thnan i was as im kicking him about does that make sense. i want to play silly golf with him

mister in charge. adama. do i call him that now. hes got his specs back on. hi-

SEE. WET. WHIMPERING. PATHETIC. [STARTS BEATING HIM UP]

number 6 is that going to be her name now.

i feel cheeky calling her blondie

MATE

THE BALDING DIVORCEE.

also other girlie from earlier... boomer is her name... i like her too. smile.

also i like this woman. uhm i, sorry i didnt get her name... the government official. theres lots of girlies for me to smile about

FUCKING GAIUS MADE IT. OF COURSE YOU DID GAIUS. WEE PRICK.

hi lee, again... can you be friendly to the photographer.

acrually nevermind its that guy. fucks sake. HE HATES WOMEN. FUCK THE PHOTOGRAPHER. LEE GET HIS ASS.

okay thank god. lady is in charge. GOOD.

also are you kidding me is gaius about to get pulled by the lottery by boomer and bloke because thats so funny. especially with the kids. imagine being 10 years old and abandoning your parent for fucking gaius to be on board

ALSO BOOMER'S LITTLE BOYTOY... I LIKED HIM... youre scaringhim. hurting his feelings. booooo

"AREN'T YOU GAIUS BALTAR." "yeah i haVENT DONE ANYTHING" FUCKING GAIUS. TYPICAL.

boomer's bestie ... are you kidding me. HELO? HELLO . YOURE GIVING UP THE SEAT FOR FUCKING GAIUS. JOKES. ITS JOKES AT THIS POINT.

also LAURA. government girlie is laura... now president laura of the world. girlboss

can WE ALL JUST. RESPECT WOMEN. THINGY OF EDUCATION. SO SHE A LEARNED WOMAN. WHATS THE PROBLEM. LEAVE HER ALONE.

a woman can survive any blast. shes fine. i know she is

although then again... if your fucking callsign is apollo i dont know what the hell you expect

okay end of part 1

[alivehouse]

just wondering why you dislike Neil gaiman so much?? not trying to criticize or defend him, just curious

gghhhhh

(this is all just going to be based on good omens related stuff bc i havent really willingly interacted with any other work of his since i was like 12 he is not a great writer imo)

ok before i get into why specifically the way he uses his socials annoys me so much i just want to mention that good omens (tv show) has a serious problem with treating its characters of color poorly/as disposable (which this post goes into) and as far as i know neil has never so much as acknowledged this let alone apologize for it so theres that

but as for why i hate his social media presence specifically so much i just think the way he interacts with his fanbase is annoying & i dont want to use the term 'gaslighting' for something this stupid but i dont even know how else to describe his habit of like. pretending he wrote aziraphale and crowley in a relationship for the sake of clout?

^ he used to regularly regularly say condescending no homo shit like this but then when he realized he could get attention for pretending he wrote queer characters he pulled a 180 and started going 'ohhhh i DID write them in a relationship actually and also trans and also nonbinary i cant believe you didnt GET it just because its SUBTLE im sorry half assed vaguely subtextual scene #5 was not enough for you stupid fa- i mean people'

and he does this shit constantlyyyy and gets no flack for it. in fact a lot of his fanbase encourages it even bc were still stuck on begging for word of god scraps from rich straight men instead of engaging with work made by actual queer people i guess. (ALSO THIS TWEET SPECIFICALLY IS REALLY FUNNY bc like a month later he lied about there being a secret handholding scene in the show to send people on a wild goose chase zooming in on shit trying to find anything just to give him more streams i guess i dont know i think it was a stupid thing to even fall for honestly but it still strikes me as kind of cruel)

i mentioned this in tags before & idk if he still does this but he used to go look up his own name on here to find people talking negatively about him so he could reblog it and get them dogpiled which is why you see people talking negatively about him calling him 'neilman' so much instead of his actual searchable name. literal full grown man picking fights with random people on here bc he knows hell win since hes a famous author and will get backed up no matter what

and ok this is edging into fandom circlejerking (i think hes only said this one a few times but his fanbase brings it up constantly to shield him from any criticisms) so i wont go into this as much as i could but theres this Thing hell do where he says they cant be gay bc they technically arent men bc they arent humans (based on a bit in the book where they feel the need to specify that aziraphale is NOT ACTUALLY GAY after continuously subjecting him to homophobic language/aggression) and people will bend over backwards trying to interpret this as meaning they are canon nonbinary and Epic Trans Rep and hell vaguely encourage this instead of like acknowledging the extended man-in-a-dress evil nanny bit in the show and pointing out that it was fucked up? & honestly the whole undertone of that is like 'this character might go out of their way to look like and dress like and act like and refer to himself as a man but he cant REALLY be a man because he wasnt Created That Way' like how the fuck am i supposed to be treating this as a trans positive read of the situation lmao. not to mention the 'inhuman = nonbinary,' 'nonbinary = CANT be gay!!! there are no gay nonbinary people i guess' legwork going on here going on here i dont know its a whole mess

PLUS i just think its funny that hes said making characters gay would be disrespectful to his deceased cowriter but pulling an entire second out of his ass for that sweet amazon money apparently isnt lmao

and to finish this off just for fun heres him at the start of the pandemic when there was a crazy high rising death toll making it about his fucking book, + him answering another ask in response to that AFTER he had deleted the original post, to make the person asking him look like they were attacking him for no reason: