#insane behavior but frankly not as insane as the fact that

[lucidfairies]

disgusting [e.w]

pairing: preacher's daughter!ellie x old friend!reader

synopsis: when darkness overtakes the righteous, light will come bursting in (Psalm 112:4)

maybe, just maybe, she could get in and break you down. make you reconsider all of the things you swear you love. things that protect you.

they couldn't protect you from her.

warnings: not proof read!, reader is a minor in the beginning (flashback), reader is femme but nothing else is really disclosed, probably short, plot is weak but there, corruption, angst, religion mentioned several times, smoking, stalking, perverted behavior, mass shooting mentioned, sarah is back then dies again, underage drinking, recording without consent (not sex), unrealistic virgin experience, top Ellie, cunniligus, fingering, ass play, double penetration, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, humiliation, pillow humping, crying, smut based on this

wc: 7.8k

a/n: wow this was absolutely insane to write. this was mostly based off of this blurb, I wrote to the author for permission to base this fic off of it but I never heard back so I figured I would leave them credit here :) joel is a bit of a dick in the beginning and tess effing sucks!

the sun poured into your windows as you awoke to the loud sounds of trucks outside your window. it was the first Saturday in September, and the air was beginning to chill. you had no interest in being awoken this early on the weekend, deciding that pulling your second pillow across your face to drown out the noise was the best course of action.

unfortunately for you, the noises didn't halt, in fact, they got louder, as the backs of the trucks slid up and men began transporting boxes into the house next door. you knew people were moving in, but you didn't know it would be today of all days.

stubbornly, you sat up, pushing your hair away from your face and stretching, before standing and peaking out of your window. there were four men coming in and out of the house, as well as three women. on the second floor, you were too far to make much of their faces, but one of them was older, presumably the mother of the other two.

reluctantly, you decided to bake them a pie as a welcoming. your mother loved meeting new people and being as peppy as possible so that they would like her. she was desperate for people to like her - sometimes you were too. and right now, you wanted this family to like you, even if they woke you up at the crack of dawn.

the pie took all day, in and out of the kitchen. by 3pm, the trucks had all dispersed, and the family had moved in. if your mother wasn't away, she would be knocking at their door already. but you knew what it was like to move houses, and you knew that nobody would want anyone at their doorstep during their first day in the home. you decided to go tomorrow.

when the next day arrived, chilly and cloudy, you were ready. you were wearing a pink sweater dress, it dusted the tops of your thighs that were covered by tights. you had white, knee high socks gracing your legs under knee high boots, and they pulled the outfit together. with your pie and sweet smile, you ventured down the sidewalk to the house next door.

the woman who opened the door was the same woman you had noticed yesterday. she was tall, long brown hair that flowed over her shoulders in a gorgeous manner, and she wasn't as old as you had thought upon looking at her yesterday. frankly, she was gorgeous. you wondered if her daughters looked like her, if so, they're lucky.

“hi, can I help you?” she asked. she was breathing harshly, you wondered if it was from moving boxes or something other.

you introduced yourself, offering up your pie. she invited you in, and you noticed that the majority of the first floor was already set up, minus a few boxes here and there. you wondered if it took them all night. she called in the rest of the family to their living room, and you sat the pie on the table in the middle.

as the rest of the family filed in, your eyes locked on the girl in the middle. she was significantly shorter than the first woman you met, tess, and she looked nothing like her - neither of the girls did. she was pale and freckled, and her hair was short. she had it pulled back in a small bun on the back of her head, and she was in a white wifepleaser and jeans.

“it's nice to meet you guys,” you smiled, reaching out your hand and shaking all of theirs. in order, it was joel, ellie, and sarah. ellie. what a pretty name, you thought. her eyes practically burned your skin as she looked you over, taking in every inch of your person.

you quickly found out that ellie was merely one year your senior, and you couldn't get the fact out of your head. she wasn't too old, you told yourself. sarah, her sister, was a year younger than you. but ellie. beautiful, eighteen year old ellie, was looking at you like you were everything, and you were looking back.

an hour later, you were saying your goodbyes and traveling back down the street to your house. you almost spun; the introduction went stunningly. there was no way that the williams didn't like you, which meant that they would inevitably like your family as well. your mother would be elated.

you learned late the week day that ellie loved to smoke. every time you glanced out of your window, she was there, tapping her cig out the window. you couldn't comprehend how someone could spend so much time staring out the window with nothing but a cigarette - or a joint, whichever it actually was. you weren't close enough to see.

you said a prayer for her that night.

it stormed that next saturday, one week after the williams had moved in. it reminded you of ellie. as you walked in to your room, ready to go to bed, you were stuck in your spot as you glanced out the window to ellie's room. the scene was nothing you had seen before. there was ellie, standing in the middle of her room, yelling at joel. she looked angry, and equally sad. they both looked sad.

you couldn't hear what they were saying, but you knew it was bad. ellie grabbed a backpack and began stuffing clothes from her messy floor into it, still yelling at joel. her cheeks were red from frustration and stained from tears. joel was crying. something bad had happened, you could feel it.

ellie said something small before throwing the backpack over her back and storming out of the house. moments later, she was storming out of the front door, into the storm. and she stopped. she glanced up, met your eyes, and stopped. you looked at her as she looked at you; longing. longing something far from reach.

and then she turned, got in her car, and drove away.

you, now two years older and attending university, didn't often think of that day. ellie though - she never stopped thinking about it. she had returned home a handful of times since that rainy night, and by some miracle, you were there every time she was.

nothing about you had changed since that night. you still had your big doe eyes and you were still just as curious as you were that night. every time ellie came home (frequently for the first year, but she hadn't been back), you would peer out of your bedroom window and watch her gather things from her room.

ellie knew that you had asked about her. several times, for the first year, actually. she knew that you wanted to see her. meet her again. maybe even smoke with her. ellie had conjured many an idea as to what would happen if she was there.

so, knowing this, you simply couldn't blame ellie for her aggressive means of knowing your whereabouts. you couldn't blame her for following you home or watching you from below your bedroom window as you changed. you're the one who wanted to see her, even if it was a long time ago.

ellie swore that one day she would approach you. she was desperate to. she thought about you no matter what she did. when she was in the shower, when she was working, when she was getting off. the last one embarrassed her. she hardly knew you, while also knowing everything about you.

she knew your favorite color and your favorite skirt. she knew what kind of books you liked and that you loved to bake. she also knew that on most of your underwear, there were flowers and bows. she knew what you slept in most often. and most of all, most disturbingly, most disgusting, she knew every way to make you cum.

she watched you frantically rubbing your nipples as your hips ground down against your pillow, and she watched as your face contorted in anger every time you didn't finish. and she watched you get on your knees and pray for forgiveness from a god who wasn't listening - because the next night, you did it all again.

ellie dreamt about every way she could make you cum. if she could get her hands on you for one night, she could have you coming over and over. you just needed her, she was sure of it. she had never seen your pussy, not from the ground with you all the way up on the second floor, but she dreamt about what it would look like to watch her strap bottom out inside you.

she craved it.

she knew your schedule so well that she could tattoo it. you left early in the morning for class, came back, did homework, slept, and then went out again. she knew what days you did your laundry and what days you went grocery shopping, she even knew what you got every week, but she was too scared to ever attempt to cross paths with you –

until now, when you decided to change your schedule.

there was ellie, looming in the dairy aisle, gazing at the milk options. she had a favorite brand, but it appeared to be all out, so she was considering her choices. as she opened the door, she heard her name and came to a screeching stop. nobody says her name like that. not since the last time she talked to you two years ago.

she turned towards you, face as pale as a ghost. her ears were ringing, her blood was rushing, and she was sure she was going to faint.

“ellie, is that you?” you grinned. you knew all too well that it was her, but you figured you would ask anyway. she looked like she was going to be sick. maybe she was trying to avoid seeing anyone from the neighborhood; word had spread that she was kicked out. “oh ellie, it's been so long! I've been worried about you.”

she couldn't stop staring, not even when you pulled her it on your embrace. “hey,” she said slowly, “it's been a while.” she smiled awkwardly, attempting to mask all of the feelings that just welled inside her. “how've you been?”

“I've been good, getting by. I'm in school now. you haven't been by for a while. how's it been?” your eyes were genuine, and she immediately felt all of the blood rush back to her face as she blushed hard.

“it's been alright,” there was a pause and you pursed your lips, unsure what to say. “if you want you could come over and I could explain everything that happened. I know you saw it all that night.” you smiled widely.

“it was probably a bad night for you. but if you're up for it, it would quiet my curious mind.” you giggled. ellie must have blacked out. this couldn't be real. “here, give me your number.” and like that, your phone was in her hands. she typed in her number and quickly handed it back to you. “I have to head out, but I'll text you.”

“great.” ellie left the store without her milk that day. she had to go back, but wound up not buying it again when she replayed what had happened the previous day in her head.

you were coming to her apartment. soon. tomorrow. you had texted her about it, several times. you didn't stop texting her. she was so, totally, fucked.

when you woke up the next morning, you were excited. you had craved answers to what happened that night since it happened, and here you were, about to get them. ellie's apartment was in an area that your parents would've called rough. as you walked up to the entrance, the gate creaked and the bell had to be pressed harshly to get it to actually ring up to her apartment. she buzzed you in, and you began up the stairs to the third floor.

ellie was staring far too hard. she could see your legs. it was killing her. she wasn't ready for this, she wasn't ready to sit next to you and have a conversation with you and have you talk back to her. she simply could not.

how was she supposed to look you in the eyes and be honest with you after using your phone number to find all of your social media? how was she supposed to pretend like she didn't get off to the pretty pictures of you on your Instagram at the beach? how was she supposed to pretend like she wasn't attracted to the religion that you had plastered all over your page? maybe, just maybe, she could get in and break you down. make you reconsider all of the things you swear you love. things that protect you.

they couldn't protect you from her.

“well, I brought you some cookies,” you opened your purse and pulled out a small, round tray of chocolate chip cookies. ellie was practically foaming at the mouth already. she reached for the tray and sat it down in the kitchen, and as she walked towards it you noticed the subtle changes in her since the last time you two had shared space.

she was paler now, if that was possible, and boney. she hadn’t been eating much (spending money on weed was a lot more fun than groceries), and it made her cheekbones stick out. her hipbones, which peaked out in an undeniably slutty way from her low waisted pants and cropped shirt was more evidence towards her lack of food consumption, and you worried for her. maybe she would let you come around more, cook her some meals, maybe help her heal. maybe fix her.

that was a nagging thought in the back of your head, and it persisted, loudly, as soon as you met her again. maybe you could fix her. it’s what god called you to do, anyway. fix the broken. fix ellie.

her hand wrapped around the thin wall as she poked her head out. “want a beer? I have corona, coors, heineken-” you cut her off, or assumed you did, because she appeared as if she would continue listing brands.

“I’m good, thanks. I don’t drink.” instinctively, your hand flew to the cross around your neck, and her eyes followed it. she breathed out a small “ah”, before grabbing herself a beer and closing the fridge.

from what you could see from your statue-like spot in her living room that barely had any view into the kitchen, she had tattoos. one tattoo, specifically. it wrapped itself down and around her forearm with different types of leaves, beginning with a large, detailed moth. however, from the cleanliness of the root of it, it appeared that she just got work done. an addition had been added, coming down the top of her hand and stopping just below her fingernails on her middle and ring fingers.

it was a lovely tattoo. and it drew your attention more than it should’ve. you berated yourself; no sane person spent this long staring at and thinking about a woman’s fingers. well, maybe gay women, but you weren’t gay. you simply enjoyed the way it curved around her arm and fingers. “it just finished healing,” your head snapped up and she appeared in front of you, leaning against the table. “I got it done a couple months ago, the bottom part. I got the other part done a couple years back, high, in my friend’s basement.”

you were eternally embarrassed. god knows how long she had been standing there, watching you watch her. “that’s really… cool,” you said awkwardly. “I could never get a tattoo high. or do anything high, for that matter.” ellie hummed, cracking open the beer and flopping down on the couch. with a gesture, she offered you the other half of the couch, and you obliged, sitting your purse on the floor next to you and crossing your ankles.

somehow, you felt equally comfortable in her home as you did out of place. the brightness and niceness of you seemed as if it would disrupt ellie’s dark energy and darkness of her home, but instead you felt welcomed. you felt as if the darkness blended with your light, and it was almost nice. It would’ve been lovely if you could’ve ignored the overarching, lingering smell of weed.

“i’m sure you want to get to the point and then leave,” ellie joked, taking a small sip of her drink. but that wasn’t true - you were in the mood to stay for hours. “a lot happened that night. but a lot led up to it, too. you see, i grew up in a house like yours. joel was a preacher for a while. tess, well, tess didn’t work. not since they met, which was only a couple years ago.”

as ellie took another sip of her beer, you put some pieces together. it made sense now why ellie and sarah looked nothing like her, and why ellie never seemed to be comfortable around her.

“so, knowing that information, when I came out to my dad and tess, neither of them were really cool about it. especially tess,” your brain lagged for a moment as you processed what she was saying. obviously she was gay. that made so much more sense than trying to piece together why a woman who was trying to attract men would dress the way she dresses, with hair and tattoos like hers.

“that’s what started the discomfort in our house, but that was before you, and before the new house,” she sighed, taking another sip of her drink. you were sure that the ‘new house’ meant more than what she was letting on. “a couple days after we moved in and two nights before you saw what you did, sarah was killed in a shooting.” your mouth fell agape.

“is that why you guys were fighting?” your pupils were blown and your mouth was still hanging open, ever so slightly. even when talking about the death of someone she cared for, she still loved the way you looked at her. like you cared.

“part of why. it was a shooting at a mall. I took her to that mall. I was there when it happened. I watched her die,” ellie spoke about the matter like it was just another blip in the radar. at this point in her life, that’s what it felt like. she got high so often that she was over it. she couldn’t afford therapy, so coping with drugs was the next best thing. “all of tess’s problems with me bubbled up that night. she had been in joel’s ear about how terrible I am, how much I smoke, how my lifestyle isn’t one they should agree with, y’know. and then she told him that it was my fault. that I didn’t protect sarah, his only living memory of his other wife. and for a while, he believed her.”

ellie’s eyes fell to the drink in her hands, and she watched it fizz and bubble. she wasn’t crying - she didn’t cry often. but reciting the story for the first time aloud brought on more feelings than she had anticipated it might’ve.

“I’m sure you can imagine the rest. joel and tess aren’t together anymore. tess died, cancer took her. karma sure is a bitch,” ellie laughed dryly, leaning back against the couch and manspreading. “he’s moving soon, since it’s just him in that big ol’ house. but I can’t go back. not after everything he said. not after he picked tess over me.”

“ellie… that’s– I’m so sorry, that’s so much worse than I thought it would be,” you faltered. you couldn’t find enough words, or the right words, to express the deepness you felt for her. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to reach out. I’ve spent years wondering about you, I should’ve made an effort.” ellie tried not to focus on the admission that thought about her, and shrugged.

“you didn’t know, nobody did. joel and tess were quiet about sarah’s death, quiet about their divorce, and when tess finally died, joel lived his life in the quiet. he hardly leaves, doesn’t have guests or friends.”

“I’m still sorry, els. truly.” ellie almost folded. “I have an appointment in half an hour, could we do this again? I’ll bring food, I can cook for you if you’ll let me.” ellie bit her lip, filthy images of you cooking for her (and doing other things for her) flooding her mind.

“yeah, that’d be great. next wednesday?” you grinned as you both stood up.

“perfect, send me your favorite dishes and I’ll go grocery shopping.” she walked you to the door, hand pressing gently into your lower back as she reached around you to the doorknob. your skin was on fire, you were sure you were blushing. through the thin material of your shirt, you could feel every bone in her fingers.

and… the drive to your appointment was nothing short of vulgar. well, vulgar to you. for someone like ellie, your unruly thoughts of her arms and fingers would probably just be considered slightly strange. but to you, your thoughts of her fingers curling against the curve of your waisted, or her arms pressing against your skin was dirty. no woman of god should think of another woman in the way you were thinking about her.

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Matthew 5:28.

unfortunately for you, your indecent thoughts didn’t stop at your doctor’s appointment, or in the car on the way home, or as you talked to your mother as you helped her prepare dinner. so, when you sat down at the square table, taking your brother’s hand and your father’s hand, you prayed.

that’s all you did, for the rest of the week -

you prayed at every meal and before you when to bed. you prayed when you woke up, when you brushed your teeth, when you dressed and undressed. you prayed for a clean mind, and you prayed for ellie. Everything about ellie. you prayed that she found healing for her wounds, and that she would be blessed with food for the table and therapy if she needed it.

prayers weren’t the only thing on your mind, though, no matter how much you begged god to cleanse your thoughts.

when the lights were off and the house was quiet, she crept into your mind. and for a while, you let her. you let yourself wonder what her hands might feel like on your skin, or what she might do to you if given the chance. how her voice would sound as she whispered filthy things into your ear in the dark, or if the tattoo traveling down her fingers had a sinister meaning; maybe that was the hand she used when she did things to other women. women that weren’t you, because she hardly knew you and it was obvious that she didn’t have a thought of attraction towards you.

but what if she did?

ellie was going just as crazy as you were, but in a totally different way - an actually crazy way. she was out of her mind over everything about you. you coming to her house only made it worse. she spent hours perched in her spot, watching you sleep, fucking recording you. she smelled her pillows in the living room while getting off because your perfume had found its way onto them. you coming back on wednesday almost scared her. she couldn’t possibly keep herself sane with you around. the only reason she could the first time was because you two were talking about sarah. but this time, just you and her and dinner? she was utterly and entirely fucked.

when you arrived at her apartment on wednesday night, ellie knew that this would never work out. you were in a pinstripe dress, one that fell much shorter than your mother would’ve ever been okay with if you hadn’t snuck out, and white frilly socks that disappeared into black loafers. ellie was finding a level of obsession with you that rooted itself deep inside her, and it was disgusting. gross, creepy even.

“hi ellie,” you said with your thousand dollar smile. you held up a grocery bag, full of ingredients for shrimp scampi. “I got everything we’ll need. my mom gave me one of her fancy recipes, so we’re set for the night.” for the night. ellie wondered how late she could get you to stay. she also wondered how much you’d hate her if she locked you up here forever.

you slipped your shoes off your feet and trotted into the kitchen, setting out all of the materials and pulling the recipe up on your phone. ellie leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as she watched you methodically arrange everything in order of steps. “are you just gonna stand there?” you joked, beginning to open some of her cabinets.

“nope, just waiting for instructions, boss.” she couldn’t help but flirt. maybe if she flirted enough you would stay the night.

with how bossy you were in the kitchen, ellie could only imagine how bossy you’d be in bed. Insisting on what you wanted and making her do it. she also wondered if maybe it was the opposite. maybe this was all a trick, and you really needed someone to tell you what to do all the time. only time would tell - but ellie was impatient.

the kitchen was extremely cramped, and though most days ellie hated this, today it gave her a perfect in. you had the cabinet door open and she needed something on the far side of you. so, in order to touch you, she gingerly grabbed your hips while you bent over to look in her low cabinets and slid behind you, crotch pressing into your ass for a single beat before she made it to the other side. it would’ve been so easy to just push her pussy against your ass and grind, but she had a little more dignity than that, even if it’s what her body begged her to do.

“sorry ‘bout that, babe, gotta grab a bowl over here.” ellie spoke in the sluttiest voice she could muster, and she could tell by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that her plan was working.

a warm feeling rushed through you, from your chest all the way down to your core. you were fluttering all over - the feeling of her hands being on you was just so right. you almost begged for her to come back, grab you like that again, see where it went. you couldn’t think about god anymore, not when she was touching you and calling you babe.

an hour and a half later, the food was finished and you two had eaten, and you gathered on the couch next to each other, same spots as last week. ellie had a movie on, and when you folded your legs beneath yourself to get comfortable, she could see your panties. they were light green, but that was the most she could tell. if she could get them off of you tonight, she could keep them - that’s what she was thinking about.

you were trying not to focus on her hands. her hands. they were right there, so close, begging to be touched. as the moving progressed, you became more and more entranced by them. the way she tapped her thigh and sipped her drink, it was all fascinating. “ellie,” you said, before you could think twice, earning a hum in response, “can I touch your hand?”

her brows knit. “my hands? why’d’ya wanna touch my hands, doll?” a flush of blush fell on your face as you tried to construct a good reason as to why you just asked to touch the poor woman’s hands.

luckily, though, she didn’t push. she simply moved her hand and let you grab it, waiting a minute before beginning to trace the intricate lines of her tattoo. it was calming before anything else. the bottom of the tattoo was just basic, black-filled leaves, while the top was detailed and complex. ellie’s hands were warm, and her fingers were beginning to develop calluses. when you glanced around the room, you spotted the guitar responsible, and let your mind wander onto whether that made it feel better.

ellie was, by some miracle, keeping her cool. that was, until, your fingertips danced away from her hand, sliding up her forearm. her heart beat faster, making her breath quicker. she was getting dizzy. there was no possible explanation for this, other than her obsession with you. this wasn’t normal; she never got this worked up by something so miniscule with other women (not that there had been other women for the last year, she was too busy following you home and watching you through your window).

“ellie,” she looked over, and you were closer now. you must’ve moved while she was busy in her head. your face was so close that she could almost feel you breathing. and when she met your eyes and your pupils blew, big pretty doe eyes staring back at her, it was over.

ellie’s lips on yours were like nothing you had ever felt before. if there was any heaven, it was right here, on ellie williams’ couch, as she grabbed the back of your head with her open hand and pulled you closer to her. moments ago you were going to ask her if you could sleep over (it was dark and it had begun to rain), but none of that mattered now. all that mattered was the way ellie’s lips moved against yours, and the way she forced your mouth open to suck on your tongue. and you could taste her. you could feel her kisses deep down in your bones, and certainly in your cunt, which was what was leading your thoughts.

ellie was violent. she didn’t waste any time grabbing your hips and dragging you onto her lap, sliding her hands up from your hips to your waist. finally, finally, you knew what it felt like to have her slender fingers wrapped tightly around your waist as she continued to suck your tongue. you placed your hands on her chest, balling up the fabric of her shirt and pulling her into you.

but, in that moment, it hit you. you were doing something terrible, something completely out of your character. lust was a deadly sin. you can’t ignore deadly sins.

you pushed ellie back and she pouted, lips swollen and wet. “we can’t do this, its-it’s not what god wants, it’s a sin, els. I think that god sent me to you to help you heal and you-you really can’t heal by sinning.” midway through your sentence, ellie’s lips latched onto your neck, spinning her tongue and sucking your skin.

“sweet girl, I promise you you can.” she went back to kissing your neck, hands sliding underneath the skirt of your dress and up your thighs. she had her hands on your hips in no time, gently guiding them down against her crotch. the seam of her jeans felt good against your cunt, there was no denying it - which led you to wonder why people couldn’t do this. why is something so good such a terrible thing in god’s eyes?

“ellie,” you moaning her name made her moan; all of her wet dreams were finally coming true. she had you here, hips grinding down against her pussy while you moaned her name. there was nothing in the world better than this. “ellie I’ve never done this before.” you whispered, which got you nowhere. instead, she groaned deeply into the crook of your neck, restricting herself from bucking her hips into yours.

“oh but baby I’ve watched you grind against your pretty pillow for too many nights to hear you say that,” you whined, hips jerking into her lap.

“what do you mean?” you pulled her off of your chest, briefly admiring her pink cheeks and light pant before redirecting your focus to the more important portion of the question.

“I used to watch you from your window in my car,” her head fell against your chest. “you used the same pillow every time. it’s light pink, with flowers. matches your bedspread.” your head was spinning. there was no possible way that you were hearing what you thought you were hearing.

“what the fuck,” you sputtered. “you watched me do something so incredibly private? something that’s only supposed to be between me and god? how disgusting are you?” your only problem with what you were saying was that something inside you wasn’t disgusted. something inside you longed to know what she thought about while she watched you, longed to know if she thought you looked good.

“I’m so fucking disgusting, baby,” she huffed, “I’ve spent all year thinking about how I could tear you apart. make you forget about god, break you. make humping your pillow feel like less than nothing compared to the way I make you feel.” you were wet. so incredibly wet that your mind couldn’t be bothered to think about the fact that she was borderline stalking you.

“show me,” you whispered, making her head snap up and her wide eyes meet yours, blazing.

“what?” she said, quickly, hands still firmly planted on your hips.

“show me how disgusting you are.”

ellie was stronger than you thought. her hands were steady as she carried you from her couch to her bed, practically tossing you onto the springy bed as she pulled her shirt off, leaving her in a simple black sports bra. she climbed over you, one arm next to your head and the other on your waist, squeezing it. “I need this dress off,” she insisted, tugging at the material.

you sat up, unzipping the back and pulling it off your upper body before falling back and letting her pull it off your legs, leaving you in a strapless bra and a pair of panties. she was on you immediately, hardly leaving herself any time to toss your dress into a pile with her shirt.

her lips fell upon your chest, kissing along the edge of your bra. she pulled it down from your tits, guiding your back into an arch so that she could unclip it. once she had it off, she was moaning into your skin as she ran her tongue along your nipple. pressing a knee against your crotch to give you something to grind against, she caught your nipple in her mouth and sucked, pressing on the underside with her tongue, hitting the perfect spot that made you whimper against her.

this was terrible. for both of you. you were sinning against god, the one man that truly knew you. but it made you wonder, maybe he didn’t truly know you. not if he condemned you to a life of hiding your attraction to women because it was against him.

and for ellie - ellie was in heaven. but this moment in time meant that she was never going to let you go. her obsession grew with every noise you made under her, so much so that the idea of locking you up here swam across her mind again. she needed you here. she needed to ruin anyone else for you, so that you would always come back. even if it meant you crawled on your hands and knees.

once ellie was done with you tits (which took a very long time), she traced her lips over your sternum and down your stomach, leaving a trail of hickies in her wake. she was like a woman mad when she made it to your panties. she was filthy, pressing her face into you and simply breathing in your smell, basking it in.

but, when she finally pressed her tongue against you, none of her behavior mattered anymore. there were no longer thoughts -worries- about the fact that she watched you during the night, or that she was simply breathing in the smell of your cunt. it was her and you, and you were forming into one being, driven by need.

ellie lapped at you like a dog over your panties, even if it got her nowhere. once you were begging her to take them off she did, peeling them away from you and tucking them in her back pocket. she licked fat strokes from the bottom to the top, flicking against your clit in all directions. every time she hit the perfect spot, your legs shook hard, and your head lolled back against the pillow.

though your hand was in her hair and you could probably hold her anywhere that you wanted, you let her take charge, eating you like her life depended on it. like it was her last meal. she slid her tongue in you, sucked your clit, anything she could do to make you as wet as possible.

gently, she pressed the tip of her middle finger against your opening, unrelenting with her pace against your clit. you hardly noticed with the waves of pleasure rolling through your body, until you felt the slight burn of the small stretch from her fingers. now, her fingers weren’t all that large, but they were boney and long, and when her first finger bottomed out, you were already seeing stars. you were panting her name, arching and squirming every time she angled her fingers up against the spot you could never quite hit inside you.

pulling away from your clit, she pressed another finger into you, this time creating a slightly uncomfortable stretch. with a couple deep breathes, you were rocking your hips into her hand, trying to get the most out of her that you could. “look at me,” ellie demanded, making your eyes snap to hers. “because you’re a good girl, you’re not going to cum, do you hear me?” frantically, you nodded along to her words, but unfortunately, they didn’t last long.

with ellie’s ceaseless pace and her insistence on hitting every pleasure point she could, your stomach was coiling and your vision was going white, mere moments after telling her you wouldn’t, and surprisingly, she let you. she pushed until your orgasm was over, then pulled her fingers from you and sucked them clean, darkness in her eyes that you had never seen before.

“what did I tell you not to do?” she asked, pushing up from where she was laying and standing up, walking over to her closet and pulling out a large shoe box.

“cum.” you mumbled, a little scared and a little excited. you had an inkling as to what was in the box, but you were unsure, desperate to know regardless.

“do good girls cum when they’re not supposed to?” you shook your head, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. a part of you told yourself that this was crazy and gross, that no one was possibly attracted to this and that you should be ashamed, but the other half craved her approval. craved to be good for her, and to do what she says. and that part overrode the other.

climbing onto and kneeling on the bed in front of you, ellie reached beside you and grabbed one of her pillows, handing it to you before standing back up and leaning against one of the posters of her bed. you looked at her, confused. “since you love coming without permission and humping your pretty pillow, you’re gonna do it for me until you come again. can’t be that hard, sweetheart.”

you knew she wouldn’t let you out of this. with a pout, you sat up, placing the pillow between your thighs and sitting against it, slowly rocking your hips to find a nice rhythm. you leaned forward, planting one hand on the bed below you and the other on the pillow, letting your back relax as you found a good spot. ellie stood before you, doing nothing but watching. she followed your hips as they moved back and forth, eventually coming down hard and fast against her pillow as you chased your release.

historically, humping your pillow never really got you anywhere, but you were too scared to finger yourself, fearing that it would make you impure to whomever your future husband was. turns out, all you needed was an orgasm prior to doing it to make you cum.

with a strangled moan you came again, panting as you unmounted the pillow and looked over at ellie, who looked just about ready to fuck your brains out. coincidentally, that’s what she was planning on doing.

she pushed away from the poster and unzipped her pants, kicking them off as she reached for her box. she didn’t only pull out one thing, no, she pulled out an army. first, a forest green strap attached to a black harness, which she sat on the end of the bed, followed by two other dildos, one black and one pink. you couldn’t fathom what she could possibly need three for, and you had to imagine you were in for a rough couple of hours.

“we’re gonna try some stuff, pretty girl. you’re gonna love it, since you love being stuffed so much.” she grabbed your hips, and, with a tug, flipped you onto your stomach. instinctively, you pushed your hips up, gripping the sheets in anticipation. though you couldn’t easily see her, you could hear her uncapping a bottom and squirting something onto either her fingers or the strap, before squirting it onto you.

the liquid was cold, and she started the drip down your ass, until it crept down your opening. with a toss of the bottle, she pressed one hand between your shoulder blades and used the other to maneuver the strap towards your entrance, starting with just the tip. she took it slow, pushing in inch by inch and letting you adjust to them. this was a different kind of full, compared to ellie’s fingers. the strap was stretching you in all directions, burning as you clung tight to it. and when she finally bottomed out, you were sure nothing would ever feel better than this.

once it was all in comfortably, ellie wasted no time fucking into you. she was going crazy watching the full length of her dick get swallowed up by your soaked pussy, covered in slick and lube and her spit. this was every dream she had ever had coming true.

“we’re gonna try something else now, okay?” you whined in protest, enjoying the feeling of her dick inside you, it was almost familiar now. but she didn’t pull out like you anticipated, instead she reached over and grabbed the pink dildo, lubing it up with whatever she used earlier.

“ellie what are you doing?” you asked, part pant. just for the question, she pulled out and took a deep thrust into you, trying to keep you satisfied while she fiddled with the lube. before you could utter another thought, the second dildo was probing your ass, slowly, cautiously, pressing into your asshole. “ellie!” you whimpered.

“you need to trust me baby. I know my girl wants all her holes filled. trust me, we’re gonna fill all of them.” you whined as she pushed the head of the dildo in your ass, tears welling up in your eyes from the burn. after only a few inches, you were sure you couldn’t take anymore. you were so full, everything pressing into you at every angle. but ellie was persistent - cooing at you until she got the last two inches in, and then groaning like a mad man.

the sight was one to die for: you, face and tits squished into the bed with your ass up in the air, full of her dick and dildo. with one hand on your hip and the other placed back against your shoulder blades, ellie fucked you at a rapid pace, thrusts shaking the whole bed against the wall. not only was she chasing your third release, but she was chasing her own as well, and the way the harness hit her clit when she fucked hard could get her there.

with the sight and the noises you were making, ellie came in no time. you followed soon after, crying from overstimulation and the pure feeling that came with a third orgasm around double penetration. but ellie wasn’t done yet - she pulled out two dildos for a reason, and the other was still waiting for its purpose. she did promise to fill all your holes, after all.

pulling out from you and climbing to the front of her bed, ellie used the suction of the dildo to attach it to her headboard. you wondered if she maybe wanted to watch you fuck against it, like you had seen in a few porn videos over the years, but that wasn’t the case.

“you’re gonna suck that dick while I fuck you,” she instructed, and the idea seemed totally crazy, but when your mouth was lined up with the dildo and she was slipping into you again, you were more than willing to try anything.

with each of her thrusts, the dildo hit the gag of your throat, making you gag and choke and moan. you must’ve looked crazy; tears rolling down your cheeks, drool gathering around your bottom lip and dripping onto her pillow. to her, well, she just came again watching you. she marveled at how far down your throat you could take her dick, reveling on how you had ‘never done this before’.

with a squeal and more gagging, you came for the fourth time and final time of the night, slumping against the pillows beneath you. ellie let up when she came again, making you cry even harder. she pulled her dick out and eased the dildo out of your ass, tossing them back in the box to wash them.

“my girl did such a good job,” she praised as she brought you a washcloth, running it down your thighs and over your pussy. your mind was foggy, too foggy to bother with a response or anything other than crawling under the covers (ellie had to lift them up and tuck you in). “you’ll stay the night, yeah?” the bedside clock read one a.m.

“yeah,” you mumbled, resting your head on her chest and letting your eyes flutter shut. when you awoke the next morning, you knew you would have several feelings surrounding everything that happened, the most prevent knowing that it was absolutely fucking disgusting.

taglist: @lvlymicha @pearlywhitecigarettes @na0koz @natalieisntreal @bbnbhm @civiueueueh @mya123abc @bartshart @kaykeryyy @vahnilla @bellaramseysgirlfriend @piercedome @littlemisslexapro55555

[red-wop]

Not sure if anyone's made a post like this before but Red dwarf really is the show of all time

It's got a genderswap episode, its got a bodyswap episode, it's got multiple clone episodes, plenty of alternate universes and a simply iconic musical number despite the fact that its not a musical show by any means

theres a trans computer, two counts of mpreg, insane levels of homosexual behavior and a robot who goes through a midlife crisis

it's got the most repressed man in existence who also happens to be dead, literally the most optimistic last human alive (seriously, how is he so positive all the time) and a dude with frankly the best wardrobe ever who also happens to be literally a cat

Theres dodgy BBC budget practical effects (which I love), copious moments which are insane in and out of context, sets that are held together with blu tac and a cult following that could probably once destroy anything

It's got that season which not many people like to talk about (cough 8, cough), one of the creators left halfway through and they've all been doing It for over 35 years and are still going somehow

God I love it so much, it really is the show of all time

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: I am back to my old tricks...which means I write from the most random of POV's just because. (I once wrote a chapter from a dog's POV so like, GP doesn't even really count.

Quite frankly… GP had expected fireworks. 

He had expected Max and Ariel to have explosive disagreements. He had expected her to give up 6 months in. He had expected them to clash at every turn. A battle of wills.

What he hadn't expected however...was the fact that the two of them needed less than 2 months to be completely and utterly besotted with each other.

Or Best Friends as they had titled themselves.

They got along creepily well. They didn't have disagreements. Or if they had, then they didn’t have them anywhere GP or any other staff member was privy too. 

Max and Ariel had an almost...terrifying dynamic. It was like they were on the same wave length, like they thought the same things at exactly the same time.

And the way Max would look at her sometimes...

It was like he was mesmerized.

But more than that...Max also actually... listened to her. 

She could say something to him and he would actually stop and think about it. She had a way to say things to him that made the cogs in his brain spin and Max actually reconsidered. It was almost unbelievable.

Max Verstappen: renowned wild child, and international racing car river… Was hanging on the words of a young, attractive girl. Not only hanging on her words, but taking them into account and adjusting his behavior according to them.

GP sometimes wished he could bottle some of that when Max was being unreasonable to him. 

But it seemed to be something that was just…utterly Ariel. 

Ariel who turned the mighty Dutch Lion off the race track into a domesticated kitten that looked at her adoringly and who GP had found more than once in his driver’s room napping with his head in her lap, while Ariel drew her fingernails over his scalp and answered her emails one-handed. 

Max clearly wasn’t the only one who was besotted. 

That was the part that was most concerning to GP. The fact that Ariel seemed to be just as head over heels for Max as Max was for her.

It was a mind-boggling turn of events. Gianpiero still had a bit of trouble wrapping his head around it, and it had been almost one and a half years since these two started working together.

It was crazy. It was insane. It almost felt surreal.

But there was no denying it. Max Verstappen was actually paying attention to Ariel's opinions and advice.

GP still couldn't decide if he was impressed, confused, scared or all of the above.

The rest of the team spent much of the 2020 season not worried about a global pandemic but wondering when the two of them would figure things out. GP had to admit, he and the other members of the team had more pressing things to worry about than the relationship between Max and Ariel. Between dealing with the restrictions and disruptions caused by the global pandemic, as well as Max Verstappen's actual races, there was plenty to worry about.

However, the ongoing...whatever was going on between the two of them was a frequent topic of conversation.

"Do you think they're dating?" one of the mechanics would ask.

"Nah, they're just friends," another one would reply.

"No way, there's something going on there," yet another person would chime in.

The constant chatter and speculation about Max and Ariel's relationship went on for months.

"I bet they're dating in secret," one of the engineers would say.

"Not a chance, they're just friends," a press officer would counter.

"I don't know, they seem pretty cozy together," a member of the marketing team would chime in.

It was like a never-ending game of “guess the relationship status”.

And then... Silverstone 2021 happened.

Gianpiero still winced when he thought about that day. 

It was one of the most intense and stressful races of the season. The mood around the Red Bull team was tense as the race unfolded. Everyone was on edge as they watched Max battle it out with Lewis. And then Max and Lewis Hamilton had come into contact. 

GP watched as the two cars came together at Copse corner, a sickening feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

The Mercedes was fine. The Red Bull careened into the wall.

GP would never forget those moments after the crash. The seconds that ticked by as they waited for confirmation that Max was alive and conscious. The silence, as everyone in the team held their breath, waiting for news.

He didn’t know how Ariel had reacted to it. He ha been so focused on the radio an the life stream to the accient sight, that Ariel hadn’t been on his mind. 

He did later hear that Ariel had been waiting in the medical tent by the time Max had been brought in there… that she had been in the hospital with him, when they had scanned his brain and sent him back to the hotel with a concussion and bruises but thankfully, gloriously alive…

The next morning he showed up at Max’s hotel room with definitely nutritionist unapproved cinnamon rolls and coffe, because the guy had nearly died, so the least he deserved was a sugar rush. 

Ariel was the one who answered the door.

There, standing in the doorway to Max's hotel room, was Ariel. She wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and her hair was tousled, indicating that she had just woken up.

GP blinked, momentarily taken aback by her presence. "Ariel," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Is...Max still asleep?" 

He was also quite sure that she was wearing Max‘s shirt because it was too big for her, hanging loosely off her slender frame.

“I would be, but somebody insisted on waking me every hour,” came the grumbling voice of Max from inside the room. 

GP quirked an eyebrow at Ariel, who just rolled her eyes. He couldn't help but notice the look of fondness on Ariel's face even as she rolled her eyes in response.

“Good Morning, GP, I hope you slept well,” she greeted him drily, opening the door for him to enter the room. 

“And just for the record, it was Doctor’s orders because of his concussion,” Ariel explained. 

It made sense, but still...GP couldn’t help but find it slightly amusing that Ariel was the one who was apparently tasked with waking Max up every half-hour.

Max sat on the bed, still looking a bit groggy. He gave GP a sleepy nod in greeting, while Ariel closed the door behind him. 

GP couldn’t help but notice the domesticity of the scene. The two of them just woken up, in Max’s hotel room, and Ariel...wearing Max’s shirt. He returned Max's sleepy nod and turned his gaze towards Ariel, who leaned against the closed door with a fond yet slightly weary expression.

As he observed the domestic scene in front of him, GP couldn’t help but notice how...natural and effortless they seemed together. Max, still weary and in his pajamas, and Ariel, wearing his shirt, standing by his side.

"How are you feeling?" GP inquired, addressing Max. His eyes flicked between the two young people in front of him, trying to gauge the situation.

Max shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair. "Like Lewis Hamilton shunted me into a wall," he replied his voice quiet.

GP gave a sympathetic wince at that. "That bad, huh?"

Max nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Yeah, that bad," he said gruffly. "My head feels like it's been used as a boxing bag, and my back is killing me."

GP grimaced again. "Well, that's to be expected. You took a pretty hard hit."

He paused, studying Max's face for a moment before adding, "I know the doctors said you'll be okay, but you scared us all there for a bit."

Max grunted in acknowledgment, "Yeah, I guess I did." He looked a bit sheepish for a moment before returning his gaze to GP. "Sorry for worrying everyone," he muttered, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes, like he was secretly pleased with the attention.

Gianpiero gave a dry chuckle. "No need to apologize. You didn't plan on getting shunted into a wall, after all."

He glanced around the room, taking in the mess of clothes, blankets, and various medical supplies scattered around the bed.

"Looks like you have a good nurse keeping you company, though," he noted, shooting a look at Ariel.

She was still standing by the door, her head propped up against it lazily, watching the two men with a small, fond smile.

Max's mouth curled into a smirk. "The best nurse there is," he said with a shrug. “Even when she has a horrible bedside manner,” Max added drily. 

"Yeah, and you told me to fuck off," Ariel shot back.

A smirk tugged at the corner of GP’s mouth as he watched the exchange between the two.

Max reached out and patted the bed beside him, signaling for Ariel to sit down. She pushed off the door and padded over, sitting down beside Max and letting him wrap an arm around her.

GP found himself raising an eyebrow at the sight, taking notice of how comfortable and natural the gesture seemed to be for these two.

GP couldn’t deny it; the sight of Max’s arm wrapped around her like it was the most natural thing in the world, didn’t surprise him as much as it should’ve. There was something about their dynamic that was strangely magnetic…and a little disconcerting.

Max grumbled a bit, but there was no heat in his voice. "You deserved it," he muttered. "Who the fuck wakes someone up every hour after a concussion?"

Ariel rolled her eyes, a hint of amused irritation in her tone. "Someone who doesn't want your brain to leak out your ears," she shot back. "And I don't have a horrible bedside manner, you're just a pain in the ass when you're concussed."

Max huffed in mock affront, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, I'm a model patient when I'm concussed," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. GP let out a snort, silently disagreeing with Max's statement.

"Yeah, right," Ariel said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because a model patient throws a pillow at the person trying to wake them up every hour."

Max shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic. "You shouldn't have said I was being cranky," he said with a sly grin.

Ariel rolled her eyes again, a hint of fond irritation in her expression. "I was only being honest," she said dryly. "You were being grumpy and moody and impossible to deal with."

Max feigned offense once more. "Grumpy and moody?" he repeated, sounding offended. "I wasn't being grumpy and moody! I was just...in pain. And tired."

Ariel shot him a disbelieving glance. "That's just a nice way of saying grumpy and moody," she pointed out. Gianpiero quietly chuckled, finding their banter quite entertaining.

Max pouted, his lower lip sticking out in a pouty expression that would have look silly on most people. On him, it looked...well, adorable. "I was being justifiably grumpy," he protested, and yet there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Quite frankly, GP had expected Max to be...well, furious about the crash. About the fact that he had had pole position and would have probably stoo on the podium if not actually won....

GP would’ve been furious if he were in Max’s shoes...but Max wasn’t angry. He seemed more resigned than anything, and strangely...comfortable. GP had to wonder if it was because of Ariel’s presence by his side.

There was something about Max when he was around her, like a transformation from his usual hotheaded, fiery self, to a calmer, gentler version of himself

"You seem surprisingly calm for someone who was on track to win the race before you were shunted off the track," GP noted, fixing Max with a curious glance. "I thought you would be angrier," he said carefully.

GP studied Max curiously, noting the slight wince of pain on his face as he shifted on the bed. Max's response was a nonchalant shrug, coupled with a grimace. "Oh, I am angry," he replied gruffly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "But somebody really smart has to me, that being pissed off won't change anything. It's not going to un-crash the car or heal my head."

GP couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle at that. Max’s grumbling response combined with the way he looked so disgruntled and resigned was rather amusing. "Somebody really smart, huh?" he repeated, looking pointedly at Ariel.

Max’s mouth curled into a half-smile, and he shot a sideways glance at Ariel. "Yeah, somebody really smart," he said with a hint of emphasis. Gianpiero noticed the way Max looked at her, a mixture of affection and something else in his eyes.

"And she also reminded me that nothing would hurt Mercedes more than to lose the championship," Max continued. “Looking back won’t help me win either.” 

GP’s eyebrows rose. "So...you're going to win the championship out of spite?" GP inquired, half-joking.

Max shrugged, a wicked grin on his lips. "Why not?" he said, his voice almost nonchalant. "If it'll really piss Mercedes off, I'm all for it. Plus, I get a championship. Win-win situation, right?"

"Powered by spite and Red Bull," Ariel said with some amusement.

Gianpiero chuckled at that, watching as Max nodded in agreement. "Nothing like a little spite and Red Bull to fuel a championship win," he agreed with a grin.

[sufferu]

Hey never read re zero I don't plan to for some time but I've seen a lot anime and light novel spoilers but why do you think Subaru has more chemistry with Julius than Emilia and rem

Okay first of all, obligatory shilling time: Re:Zero is amazing and I love it and you should absolutely give it a chance when you’ve got some time. Please.

And uh. I’m admittedly not sure how to put this for someone who’s never watched/read Re:Zero, but I’ll try!

At this point in the story, Subaru and Emilia are…very much a slow burn couple, and it’s mainly just Subaru having a huge ass crush on Emilia while Emilia tries to figure out what Subaru means to her. And it’s sweet and wholesome, but currently it’s reached a point where Subaru is doing all the work on a number of different levels — not just regarding his romantic feelings towards Emilia — to the point where it feels rather unbalanced sometimes. I’m holding onto hope that this is intentional and going to be the focus of some development for Emilia sometime soon, but it is what it is for now. But beyond that, it’s really just a matter of Subaru liking Emilia and Emilia wondering if she should return his feelings, and that’s FINE, but it’s not hugely compelling to me. (Also frankly I’m of the opinion that Emilia deciding that her feelings towards Subaru are actually platonic and that she values him more as a platonic soulmate than a romantic partner could genuinely be S Tier storytelling, so.)

Subaru and Rem, meanwhile… Okay, so, I kinda oversimplified things a bit, because those two DO have chemistry. Quite a bit, actually. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that they have one of the most layered, complex relationships in the entire series. But the thing is, it also happens to be INSANELY toxic, with both of them enabling the other person’s worst behaviors and basically leaning on the other in this incredibly interesting codependency that literally only gets shaken by one of them getting erased from existence. (Also Rem is unique in that she is the sole character who is not Subaru who has been directly responsible for an IF Route: one of the possible Bad Ends that the series can go down if the wrong choice is made at a pivotal moment. In almost all of them, Subaru is the one making that choice — except for Sloth:IF, in which the choice is between whether Rem agrees to run away to Kararagi with him or refuses and coaxes him back to his feet during his mental breakdown, thus losing her chance to have him all to herself.) it’s a really complicated dynamic that’s difficult to summarize in one paragraph (I didn’t even bring up how Rem literally tortured him for several hours in a previous loop, to the point where he references still having nightmares about it a full year after the fact) but I hope I’ve given SOME idea for how fascinating it is. Regardless of how interesting it is though, it’s not exactly Final Couple material: everything is pointing to the two of them learning to stand apart from one another on their own two feet.

Julius, meanwhile — there’s a lot here, really, and most of it is pretty woven into the story (which you have not read) but I’ll try and give a couple reasons lol.

First of all, Julius is unique in that he is the only character to actually remember doing something traumatizing to Subaru. He’s not unique in traumatizing Subaru — this man has been murdered, tortured, beaten to a pulp, humiliated, and so much else by like half the cast at this point — but Subaru normally dies and resets to sometime before that happens, and so Julius is the only one who actually did something that Subaru was hurt by and remembers doing it. This, ironically, gives the two of them a foundation for their dynamic that is arguably healthier than the ones Subaru has with most of his friends — especially because Julius has proven time and again that he is a safe person for Subaru to be angry with, because he’s actually been really understanding and tolerant about Subaru lashing out at him over it sometimes without being the kind of overly-apologetic that would guilt Subaru into being quiet. As such, Julius is the One Person who has done something horrible to Subaru that Subaru has allowed himself to feel angry and resentful towards, which is noteworthy because a lot of other traumas have been explicitly recolored as “good memories” as one of his coping mechanisms.

Beyond that: Subaru references his attraction to Julius so many times it’s practically a running gag. He waxes poetic about his long legs, graceful eyelashes, vexing voice, supple hips, and the “strange sensation” that his image inspires within him. I’d say I’m reading into it but I genuinely don’t think I am, because it happens SO MUCH, and (with a couple exceptions, like the guy he went on a two page “there’s another reason I’m on my knees right now” rant for) it’s ALWAYS JULIUS. Hell, even other characters like Emilia reference it sometimes, with Subaru responding by saying that they’re definitely not friends, but “something infinitely more annoying.”

And like — they’re just fun? Their dynamic is fun. They’ve got this playful banter going on every time they meet, they obviously respect each other on a serious level beneath that layer of mutual sass, Julius has this sense of being able to be his real self around Subaru in a way that he doesn’t feel he can with anyone else while Subaru has that aforementioned foundation of “I can finally actually be angry about something that traumatized me for once,” and it’s just — shockingly equal and healthy and wholesome. It’s nice. (I fully expect these two to have some plausibly deniable “very close” relationship by the end of the story that could be read in a number of different ways lol)

[the-daily-dreamer]

I think the love that Rhaenys gets is kind of insane when you really look at her as a character. Because frankly she is insanely hypocritical and selfish.

Rhaenys is incredibly passive in her behaviors and essentially dedicates her life to make her husband happy. Which is totally fine and her choice…except for the fact that she insults Alicent for serving the men in her life and belittles her for it.

She willingly offers up her 12 year old child to a creepy older man to get her blood on the throne and to please her husband by getting his blood on the throne. Which is just as bad (arguably worse than) Otto offering up his 15 year old. So if you hate him, hate Rhaenys.

She kills a bunch of small folk without a care simply to show off that she’s powerful and better and can’t be chained down. And I’m sorry, if you hated Cersei for blowing up the sept (as her one and only option to survive) and the smallfolk in and around it…you can’t support Rhaenys caving the walls in on a bunch of people for no reason.

And really consider this. In the case of Otto, everyone hates him for plotting to get his daughter to marry Viserys and then get his grandchildren on the throne over Rhaenyra. But if Viserys had taken the ludicrous offer from Rhaenys to marry her 12 year old daughter…do you think she and her husband would’ve accepted Rhaenyra as heir? Obviously not. If Viserys married Laena and had sons with her, Corlys and Rhaenys would’ve been the #1 supporters of the “Rhaenyra isn’t the heir” brigade. They’d have used all their power to intimidate Viserys until he changed his mind, and if he didn’t…as soon as Viserys would die, they’d have their grandson on that iron chair faster than you can say “Rest in Peace”.

The only reason she supports Rhaenyra now is because of the marriage between the strong boys and her granddaughters. And the concept of her husbands “blood” being on the throne in name.

You can’t convince me in any way that Rhaenys is in any way a girlboss or feminist. What she is a hypocritical woman who, if the circumstances were different, would place herself and her family above Rhaenyra in a heartbeat. Lord knows she tried.

[cbk1000]

Well, I guess that kudos is sticking around, but honestly, it doesn't change the fact that the work didn't land for me. I wasn’t trying to be mean, just saying what I thought. If you're gonna publish it, fine, but don’t act like it was some sort of high praise. Keep the kudos if you want, but don't expect me to pretend I liked it.

Interpreting my response to your previous ask as acting like it was some sort of high praise is an INSANE failure of reading comprehension.

You absolutely did intend to be mean, you're just upset that I thought your insults were funny instead of taking them to heart.

'But don't expect me to pretend I liked it.' Listen. I need you to stop and think about this for a second. We are complete strangers to one another. I'm not expecting you to pretend you like it. I do not know you. I don't want or crave your regard because, once again, you are a stranger and my only interaction with you thus far has been you sending a rude ask to my tumblr account. Whether you like it or not does not mean anything to me because I do not know anything about you as a person or your personal tastes. I am not a friend or coworker who expects you to put on a good face despite your true opinion.

I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're very young and haven't yet learnt how to appropriately interact with strangers online, so to recap: this ain't it. That message you sent was one of the cringiest things I've seen in more than 20 years of participating in various online fandoms. You need to reread what you write before you send it and really think about if that's the way you want to represent yourself, even anonymously.

But above all: it's fanfiction. Free gay internet writing. Written by a rando you do not know, and do not have to interact with. Just close your internet browser window and don't think about it again. You're the one who initiated this. You are the one dragging out your association with a fic you do not like. Contacting me twice now about a fic you didn't like is indisputably strange behavior. If you want to participate in fandom spaces without alienating everyone, including writers you do admire, you need to stop doing this sort of thing. The reaction is always going to be, 'What a douche'. Even from people who themselves don't like the fic it was aimed at. Your time in fandom will be far more pleasant if you concentrate your time and attention on the fan creations you DO enjoy, and that is what I recommend you do.

I can't tell you what to do, obviously, but I encourage you not to message me again. I will delete any future responses from you, because frankly, this is not healthy behavior and you need to focus on something that brings you enjoyment instead of getting hung up on a single fic you didn't like. I have disliked and not finished loads of fanfics. I merely close the window I was reading it in and go do something else, and that is what you need to do.

[renaultmograine]

I am so normal about Anduin and Shaw's relationship.

Anduin snooping through SI:7's files during Cataclysm to do his own detective work (this behavior is normal according to Anduin) and telling you to go ask for Shaw's opinion on something, as he's the only man Anduin trusts for this. Shaw is just like "Weren't you supposed to keep him out of trouble?" but says nothing more, presumably because Anduin is Anduin and cannot be controlled.

Anduin who goes from admittedly wary because he doesn't know much about Shaw personally in Before the Storm to "Shaw is my best friend ever" on the first page of Shadows Rising

Anduin torturing Shaw in Elegy with his quite frankly insane ideas on how to use SI:7 and Shaw who doesn't argue with him despite the insanity.

Shaw who IIRC never argues with Anduin on policy? Ever? Everyone else has a billion opinions for Anduin about how to do this and that and Shaw is very clearly presented as not doing that.

Anduin yelling at Shaw for SI:7 not being able to find an ethereal squid in a nightmare realm that isn't tangible in the real world and the fact that this cinematic is the only one where Shaw isn't scowling like a maniac in BFA.

That one bit in the EA:TEK where Shaw sounds like a smothering mother talking about how exposed Stormwind Keep's garden area is and how he mentions Anduin doesn't take his concern seriously.

That moment in Terror By Torchlight where the necromancer says to Shaw that "everything he holds near and dear" to him will be ripped away by black wings, and then Anduin is stolen by the mawsworn.

Shaw who has been using his agents to hunt down Anduin relentlessly since he went on his little soul searching journey but Anduin is Anduin and keeps juking them relentlessly.

I hope they get a good reunion like Anduin and Genn inevitably will.

[dumbandpoetics]

this is the first and last time i'm addressing anything that has to do with this situation.

but this is insane. this is fucking INSANE. i am begging some of you to log off and touch grass. PLEASE. this is not healthy, it's deranged behavior, and quite frankly, dangerous. let go of the parasocial relationship you have with this man. talking 'bout "you're so butthurt" bruh, you will never have a chance with him, he doesn't know you and he NEVER will. it's time to accept the fact that joe burrow is not the man you all paint him in your delusional fantasies to be. he is a grown man pushing 30 and can do whatever the fuck he pleases.

sometimes long-term serious relationships don't last and that's another thing you all need to accept. sometimes two people in those long-term relationships want different things for themselves, sometimes things just don't work anymore. it happens, that's life. long-term relationships don't always have to end in marriage. they could have ended things amicably for all we know. we have absolutely no idea how or why joe and olivia h broke up, but frankly, that's not our business and never has been/never will be. creating theories in your mind as to what happened is so far out of touch from reality. and you all wonder why joe is such a private fucking person to begin with? it's because of people like Y'ALL.

then, the actual audacity to assume a criminal act was staged just for someone to gain publicity is the most delusional shit i have ever heard. someone could have been seriously hurt and YOU'RE MORE WORRIED ABOUT SOMEONE WANTING ATTENTION??? DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW FUCKING INSANE YOU SOUND????? you should be glad that no one was home when it happened and that nobody was seriously hurt. the last thing on your mind should be who the fucking girl was.

oh, also, one more thing. your "bad joke" about joe wanting lesbians is disgusting and not funny. you could've kept that to yourself. supposed "jokes" like that is exactly why us bi/pan people can never fucking live in peace because we're constantly under a microscope of "well are you gay or straight, you can't like both at the same time." disgusting.

anyways, i'm done. i'm blocking anyone in his tag that only cares about gossiping about his personal life. all of you should be ashamed of yourselves. i hope joe and anyone else who were affected by this are doing okay. <3

[nekropsii]

homestuck fandom circa 2012-14 was a nightmare fr. so many big art accs had a nsfw side accs dedicated almost exclusively to incest/pedo ships it was insane... but god forbid you made the striders black

Hell, half of the time shit wasn't even on a side account. Most of the time it wasn't even tagged. Not just as NSFW, but as the other shit that it was. No content warnings, nothing. Sometimes people would deliberately not even tag the ship so you couldn't filter it out without blocking either the main tag or a whole character - like, for example, not tagging BroDave as either "BroDave", "Stridercest", "[CW/TW] Incest", or "[CW/TW] Pedophilia", and instead just tagging it as "Bro Strider", "Dave Strider", and "Homestuck"... So in order to avoid seeing that, you'd have to either filter "Dave Strider", "Bro Strider", or "Homestuck", and that's just not fair.

It's weird when people act like CW/TW tagging has always been a thing that the Proship-type crowd have abided by, like, religiously, and that anyone complaining about shit not being tagged just isn't being careful enough, when... No, that's really not been my experience whatsoever. Hell, there's still untagged incest content in the Homestuck main tags now and then to this day. It's even weirder when people say that tagging incest and pedophilia is "a courtesy that no one has to abide by", and refer to it like a privilege that can easily be taken away, like a toy from a child. Like, god damn, so much for caring about victims, huh? So much for the whole motto about respecting people and their boundaries, right? So much for that defense that "no one can complain because everything is tagged". Man. What the fuck, lol.

At least nowadays you're way, way less likely to get flashbanged with Pedophilic Incest Porn spammed on your dash at random. Fandoms were so egregiously, violently, shamelessly fucking unsafe for kids back in the day. I hate the fact that people are nostalgic for that era - the behavior people were exhibiting was frankly just disgusting, and there was practically no barrier between "adult space" and "all ages space". The way fandoms behaved back then was wildly unchecked and fully fucking dangerous. That history of constantly exposing kids to porn of 13 year olds getting fucked by their adult parents/siblings is not something to be proud of. People should be absolutely ashamed of themselves. This is not a point of pride. So many kids were victimized and traumatized. Just abominable. Nightmare is right. Being a kid in the Homestuck fandom in the early 2010s was terrible.

Purposefully exposing kids to this fucking nightmare pornography is a point of pride, people loved doing it, but god forbid you drew anyone Black, or Fat. God forbid you were Black yourself. God forbid you were Disabled. God forbid you tried to critique the story in any way. God forbid you were Gay, or Trans, or Bi/Pan, or Nonbinary, or anything at all. God forbid you had headcanons that went against the status quo. God forbid you "drew the characters wrong" (e.g. Blonde Vriska). God forbid you "liked the wrong characters" (e.g. Vriska Serket, Mituna Captor). God forbid you "liked characters for the wrong reasons" (e.g. Nepeta Leijon, for being strong, mature, and emotionally intelligent, and Vriska Serket, for any reason at all). God forbid you critique the Fandom's Behavior, or Fanon. God forbid you breathe. God forbid you express any individuality at all. Nightmare dimension. Fuck.

[princelylove]

Hello Your Highness!

I was wondering, since Leone is completely obsessed with his darling, if there’s any time he’s completely unhinged and feral in bed? Like maybe darling does something that just… hits different and he can’t control himself on the spot? Would that lead to sexual advances?

Leone, Leone. He's so cute.

He's dominantly a 'I need to keep my hands to myself or everything is going to go wrong and they're going to hate me and oh god I'm not enough anyway what the hell am I doing' type. He doesn't really ever make those sort of advances, even when he's intoxicated.

Leone is often passive. Which is amusing, because of how aggressive he can be when pushed. It's different with his darling. Leone rarely initiates things- he wants to do whatever you want to do. You own his heart. His soul.

He's kind of just praying silently that you're going to touch him eventually. Consent matters. Never mind the fact that Leone is bordering on free use for his darling- begging to be manhandled, begging to be groped, begging to be touched at all- Leone would never even briefly consider making a physical move on his darling just because you're driving him insane. That's his problem.

Sometimes you'll say something so adorable that he has to turn his head away to scrunch up his face. It's normally accompanied by a sharp "Hm!" sound. He's lucky he uses such a high coverage foundation. He gets pretty bad cuteness aggression, but he has a surprising amount of self control about it. It's admirable, really.

For someone as indulgent as him, you'd think he'd fight urges related to his darling constantly, but Leone isn't the type of person to pounce on his darling the second he gets the chance. He'd never. He's a bad man, but he's not a predator. He loves you so much that wronging you is worse than actual moral wrongdoings.

. . . But he is a creep. Your possessions aren't safe from his urges. Any damning evidence is taken care of accordingly. He's so diligent, isn't he? Doesn't he clean so well? Praise him.

Leone getting hard because his darling is just so perfect and gorgeous and adorable is so common that I couldn't actually specify. He just takes care of it himself in privacy. Again, not your problem.

You know what, though? Sex is different.

He has some things he goes crazy for when he's submitting. Direct eye contact, praising him, treating him like a human dildo and disregarding what he can and can't take, pretty average things for a man like him. Leone is the type of yandere to become so obsessed with his darling that all sexual behavior is addictive- he just wants you.

He has his kinks and fetishes, sure, but the thing that's really doing it for him is that it's you. The love of his life. Leone can't get enough of his darling, he's pleased with whatever they want to do, it's quality time! If you prefer the Leone that opens his legs and moans like a very well paid whore, that's the Leone that you're going to get.

I tend to see him as very submissive, but he is capable of being dominant. It's just not something he thought he'd ever do. I mean, look at him. His face is screaming 'please touch me please touch me please touch me.' Leone- frankly- doesn't think it's ever going to be an option until he falls in love.

Topping is one thing, and actually dominating a partner is another. Topping comes naturally to him, and it's not like he hasn't had partners over the years. Although, that doesn't mean he's going to do it in the way you like it without some coaching. It's been quite some time. Leone has no idea what to do with pacing, how hard he's supposed to be going, if it even feels good- he likes it rough for him, he'd rather his darling just shove themself inside him and disregard his feelings entirely, use him, break him- but his darling..... they're so precious that he can't bring himself to go buck wild right off the bat.

It takes him a little while to learn, but Leone will eventually settle into a pace that pleases his darling. His only goal is their pleasure.

But, that's a lie. Leone enjoys dominating just as much as he enjoys submitting, he's just quicker to offer his own body. Domination can be very fun, Leone isn't a stranger to biting a partner's ear lobe out of fondness.

Leone tends to think of dominating someone in the way he thought of restraining criminals- you show you're the boss by physically intimidating them, restraining them, generally just using force when they're out of control. He doesn't know how to be gentle initially, but he'll get there. He wants to treat his darling gently, but he's like a dog that was left outside all day and finally someone stopped to play with him.

Leone has the opposite demeanor when he's tasked with dominating. Slow and firm, Leone takes his time with his darling's body and doesn't bend his knee in the slightest. You can't rush him, as much as he'd like to obey your every whim. He can't act as excited about it as he wants to, otherwise he'll lose the mindset and risk giving his darling the ick, so he temporarily slips into his old, mean self. He's not particularly a sadist, he takes no pleasure in degrading his darling or hurting them, but a little teasing is fair game.

Leone is quite a big man. It's not like he just forgot how to use his size from years of hiding in corners to avoid being in his darling's way. Using his size to his advantage is common sense when attempting to dominate his darling, he can pin a smaller darling in place and refuse to move until they say what he wants, he can hold them up against a wall so they have to look at him, he could even just drop his body weight on top of them for a not-so-nice little reminder about things being on his terms.

He's selfish, you know. He'll beg for more when it's obviously not an option. It's not like he deserves it, but he wants it. Indulge him. Please. Please?

Funny for a man that gives the second you suggest you want it. Leone's teasing is usually with actual penetration, and sometimes (All the time) his words. It's not his fault you look perfect with it against you. Leone is very speech heavy when he dominates- he rarely stops talking, partially to keep himself in the mindset and partially because he just can't stop, even if he wanted to. It just won't stop pouring out of his mouth. He loves you, you're taking it so well, he had no idea you were more eager than he was, did he mention he loves you?

So what does Leone go crazy for when he's in a more dominant mood?

He's a smells kind of person. His darling's natural scent- whatever's under all of that soap and perfume- is addictive. Of course, your soap and perfume are fantastic- but they smell different on other people. He can spray your perfume on his pillows and your dirty laundry all he wants, it's not the same as when it's actually on you.

He loves when his darling says his name. Even in casual conversation- it's the best way to get him to break character from his grumpy act and look your way. A sharp Leone will have him turn his head and cross his legs.

Declarations of love and praise really do it for him. Nothing drives Leone wild like praise and feeling like his darling loves him. Do I really need to elaborate on the attention whore wanting to be loved and praised?

A good look at your figure doesn't hurt, either. It doesn't always have to be skin, but Leone loves shape.

I don't think I answered your question. Oops.

[sharkwing]

So much of the backlash I’ve seen against Rose’s behavior in HS:BC is completely ignoring the fact that this is a new group of writers who were given some frankly batshit insane plot developments and had to be like “alright, regardless of how in character it is for them to have made these mistakes in the first place, how would these characters react to being in this situation now?” I don’t think Rose and Jade would have ever deceived Kanaya like that, but now that they have I wouldn’t want the new team to just gloss over it and pretend it’s fine because they don’t want to deal with it. We’ve already established that the RoseJade cheating plotline is Bad, but it is a canon thing that happened and that is an immutable fact now. If this story is going to continue, I want it dealt with in a satisfying way! I want to see Kanaya angry! I want to see what they come up with to justify why Rose and Jade did this! The stuff they came up with for Jade is already pretty interesting!! Tl;dr there is no version of this plotline that is not frustrating and awful so as long as it’s here we might as well have fun with it

(Also side note: the more I think about it, how much of Rose’s anime villain bs was her Real True Feelings and how much of it was saying shit that would hurt Kanaya because Kanaya brought up her Dead Mom? That’s probably a known nuclear move in their relationship, so it would make sense if in that moment Rose had decided to go nuclear in return. And narrative-wise, is it possible this conversation was meant to depict Rose and Kanaya at their absolute worst point in this argument so Yiffy would have ammo to turn her fellow kids (esp Vrissy) against their selfish parents in the future?)

[mayabruhbruh]

do you think Mike’s behavior towards Will in S2 would somehow parallel his behavior towards El in S3?

Interesting ask! I like that comparison, though they are starkly different in nature. LETS THINK!!

So what you mean to point out is the glaring shift in attention from Will to El between seasons. I might've talked about this in an earlier post, but I love talking about it anyway, so let's dive in lmao.

So, I feel like it's pretty fair to say Mike is quite the easily-attatched, obsessive kind of person. And not in an insane way, at least not all the time, but you can see it in every season and in the way he sets his priorities. I mean, every season he finds something to latch onto and makes it his entire personality till something new comes along. And that's sort of what happened between seasons 2 and 3.

In season 2, Mike's sole purpose was to be by Will's side and to help figure out what was going on with him and the mind flayer. He was the one that was the most involved with his possession other than Joyce, and since he's just naturally such a leader and a genuinely objective-driven person, it was the only thing he focused on or worried about at all frankly all season.

Mike's determination to find Will in season one was his initial fixation, and I don't mean to use the term fixation to lessen the meaning of how much he invested himself in it. It's mainly a better way to express just how hyperfocused he gets in things like that. Mike nearly killed himself in season 1 for the slight chance that they might find Will again. WTF!? Anyway, season two was no different. With Will, his determination and general need to be of help is so prominent and almost default to him. It's really revealing of his priorities, the mere fact that he didn't go anywhere else for a solid few days while he watched over Will and wracked his brain for anything that could help fix the situation.

And that all changed, of course, with the reintroduction of El at the end of the second season. Of course, Mike still helped figure out how to stop the Mind Flayer without killing Will, but it was at that point that we knew once this was all over, his attention would shift to El in a similar manner.

Now, there's a bit of a difference in the behavior from season 2 to season 3 in terms of how he expresses that "obsession" or as we should probably just call it, "fixation." In season 2, it was driven with the intention of being helpful to Will in any and all ways that he could, whether that be comfort (the scene on his bed where they talk about the Mind Flayer), rationality (helping Joyce, Bob, Hopper etc. figure out the connections and offer useful understanding), or just company for a slowly deteriorating Will Byers, which can be backed up by the way he was solely with Will for a far majority of the season.

In season 3, the fixation he has for El is a little less within the area of his expertise, and lot more forced. And that's not at all to say that he just up and goes to El's cabin at the same time every day against his will lmfao. I really just mean that the organicness with which he latched onto Will's situation couldn't exactly be replicated here. Mike doesn't really get fixated on something without there being an end result or something useful to come out of it. So... that is to say he most definitely still had a goal in mind with his relationship with El. It's really just part of his formula and the recurring patterns presented in each season with every action he takes. Despite being an idiot, he's very methodical in what he does. And that's no different with El.

Mike after getting a girlfriend and thus eradicating the loser allegations:

Basically, what I'm saying is a regurgitation of what plenty of others have said on this app, and it's that he wants very badly, whether he knows it or not, to do one of three things:

for himself to come off as normal and typical teenage boy-ish as possible

for himself to come off as non-homosexual as possible

to prove to everyone that he is not "weird", as so many others have suspected (his bullies, his parents, literally everyone)

But, to be fair, those are all basically the same things. At least in Mike's book. And in his mind, a lot of his issues with not fitting in and the internal fear of being seen have a solution within his relationship with El. With her, he finds an excuse to back out of all of the things that remind him of just how "weird" he is. Turning down Dungeons and Dragons, the Cerebro setup, and indulging in all that teenager-y romance drama and moodiness was so out of character for him, and I feel like that really means something in the grand scheme. There have been many analyses on the stark capitalistic, bright and flashy artificiality of season 3, and Mike was a MAJOR part of that, especially in his drastic change in persona in just that season. (Note this analysis of his clothes in s3 I chimed in on as well, because it fits well with this lmao). Now, so many things that he once loved to do before can now be turned down with the excuse that he has someone. Someone (a girlfriend) that symbolizes (to society and by default, to him) manhood and true maturity and whatnot. She, to him, can be the light at the end of the bleak tunnel called life in Hawkins, Indiana, where he can't be who he wants, but he can settle for a questionable relationship with a friend that excuses all of that weirdness (*cough* queerness *coughcough*) in him that he can't seem to shake without her.

It's smart of him, really. I mean, he likes her! They've gone through a lot together, and having a good friend that he can easily deem as someone he like likes despite not really knowing what he wants is just him taking easy street. Sadly, he neglected to realize that pretending to be in love with someone might cause said someone to fall in love too. Someone innocent, new to the world, and susceptible to that kind of feeling. BAD IDEA MICHEAL.

He saw a lot of the repercussions of that in season 4, where El's feelings came a lot more into play and the whole "being normal" and "getting girlfriends" deal had begun to wear off in his mind. His relationship with DnD came back with that too, and I think it has a lot to do with his realization that he fucked up. Big time. Season 4 is really a whole other story. Basically him trying to salvage their relationship despite realizing his attraction toward her was all a lie. He didn't really like like her, he just liked the idea of being relieved of his societal expectations by being with her. And once he met Eddie and learned that conformity is what's killing the kids, it finally dawned on him that he really dated El solely to conform. And that's fucked up. And he realizes this. But isn't sure how to fix it.

Oh well, that's an issue for season 5 to resolve.

My purpose for writing this is not to confirm Byler or to shoot down M!ileven. All I hope to do is offer script-centered reasoning and analysis for the events depicted in the show, so that it can help connect the dots on what may happen next. Truthfully, whether Mike ends up gay, straight, with Will, with El, or WHATEVER, I truly believe that the narrative in season 4 intends for us to pick up on the fact that Mike has come to the realization that he isn't in love with El, he never was really, and that he is dealing with the shockwaves that his too-young compulsory love decision has wrought for them. It is kind of his fault, because despite being young and stupid when he initiated it between them, she was even younger and stupider and happened to follow his lead. (I love El, I am NOT calling her stupid lmfao I just mean he sort of used her lack of knowledge and experience in society to his advantage unknowingly and led them down the path to where they are now.)

Anyway, that's what I think about Mike's behavior between seasons. Sorry, this was unnecessarily long, but I hope it answered your question LMFAO.

Please shoot me a message or another ask if there's any more questions or thing you'd like me to expand more on! Y'all know I can yap for hours over this.

[petefromarma]

I think many people who are dismissive of Jeanae and Pete's relationship do not have the sensitivity required to talk about this, but if it counts for anything, I have heard a lot about Jeanae being obsessed with Pete before the two of them got together, so much so that she began to emulate the style of Morgan, Pete's girlfriend from 2002-2003ish, when Jeanae would have actually been 15-16. Just knowing that Jeanae was not in a good place as a teenager, it makes me wonder if her stating that she was 15 is not true, but NOT because "she's an evil liar" or purposefully not telling the truth or anything like the cruel things people try to say to discredit her, but because maybe her memory has been shaped by her obsession and the trauma, etc. that she believes that to be the truth, even if it objectively might not be the case. Especially considering I'm pretty sure the first concrete evidence of him and Jeanae were pictures from when Pete's hair was red around Japan 2004 when she was at least 17, maybe even 18. However, obviously, regardless of whether it's "legal" or not, it's still insane to be dating a 17-year-old at the age of 25, so this also isn't to absolve Pete of all blame as well.

This also isn't meant to villainize Jeanae at all or to call her a liar, and I hope that comes through; human memory is just easily manipulated, even more so when it comes to trauma, and thus it's possible that the "15-20" age range Jeanae has stated is the truth to her as she remembers it, but it may not be how things actually happened. She's a victim regardless of her age, as this relationship was very sadly toxic at such a young formative age for her, but it's just something that shapes my opinion of this matter regardless. Hopefully, you see where I'm coming from (whether or not you choose to agree with what I've said), and please don't take this as either trying to discredit Jeanae or attacking you for taking her statements entirely at face value because of course believing victims is very important 🩷

i do think you are being genuine so i’m going to try to be levelheaded and considerate while responding to this but if jeanae became obsessed with pete when she was 15 and tried to emulate his girlfriend at the time and pete was aware of this and their relationship began immediately after she turned 17/18, that changes almost nothing for me in how i view pete’s actions. i understand why you’re providing me with this information and what it means when it comes to how fans discuss their relationship, and i do agree that most people, either way, don’t have the sensitivity required to talk about it in the manner a topic like this deserves, but i would still consider that to be predatory behavior on pete’s part

i hope i don’t sound crass when i say this because i do know you aren’t pulling this out of nowhere (re, jeanae trying to dress/look like morgan) because i have seen other people talk about it as well but i’ve never seen proof and is it not also possible they were both dressing similarly because that was the style of the subculture they were involved in at the time? like iirc chris’ girlfriend in 2004/2005 also had short brown/red hair. and honestly me saying this is being considerate to pete because quite frankly as stated above i do think it’s telling on yourself to be dating a girl who you are aware is obsessed with you and trying to emulate your ex-girlfriend because she is obsessed with you, the year that she turns 17/18

so anyway yes theoretically there could be a possibility that jeanae is misremembering her age at the time their relationship officially began but it doesn’t mean much to me and i’m not interested in entertaining that train of thought unless provided further proof, i’m sorry. if a person who actually knew them at the time had made a statement on it i would consider that, but as it stands i’m going to take her at face value when she says her involvement with him began when she was 15, since we do know for a fact that they met when she was 15

also, again, not to be crass, but if a man is dating or otherwise involved with a 15 year old when he’s 23, he’s probably not going to be broadcasting that they’re together or posting pictures of the two of them on his social media, especially if he’s cheating on his current girlfriend with her

[pigeon-behavior]

What's wrong with GLPR? I just found out about them via Instagram and was thinking about adopting a pigeon from them.

Honestly, it's.... a whole bag.

I've heard directly from more than one person who have volunteered there, and the conditions they describe... are... mm.... Truthfully, not really acceptable, even for a rescue.

The biggest complaints I heard were very dirty pens, overcrowding, and birds not being fed or watered every day depending on staff numbers.

That just shouldn't happen. If you've gotten to that point, you've taken on too many animals. Keeping every animal alive at the cost of making them suffer is not a victory. This is why kill shelters exist, as sad as that fact is. If you can't house the animals responsibly, then you simply shouldn't be housing them.

I have also heard about REALLY inappropriate handling of birds, and considering I've actually seen a video they saw fit to be visible to the public that was absolutely appalling, I frankly shudder to think about what they aren't showing.

There's a particularly bad story in my head, but I don't want to out the person who told it to me by saying it, because there are people running that rescue who are insanely vindictive and REALLY love to bully people.

A weaker complaint is that I don't love a lot of their advice. I think their behavior advice is... let's say destined to create a bad relationship with your bird, to be polite. They have some strange views on what is okay to do to your bird at home, medically. Vets exist for a reason - you should be utilizing them! Not... occasional minor home surgeries.

I also wish they didn't tend to shove birds into peoples laps without trying to do any kind of reasonable matching. They won't tell the truth about the bird's temperament a lot of the time. Either they don't know it, or telling the truth won't land the adoption. But that's not fair. You need to be able to know what you are getting into, as much as possible. Expecting a cuddlebug and getting a scared thing that wants nothing to do with you is NOT going to encourage you to keep trying.

I've also seen them push a significantly injured bird onto a minor with no warning of its problem. And that minor should have failed the screening process anyway.

They're very quick to judge everyone else in the pigeon world, but I frankly no longer see good reason to think they've earned that. They get very sensitive if you say in front of them that rescues should be screened just as much as breeders. So everyone should be accountable but them, huh? Interesting.

I absolutely have my personal beef with them. But I'm not the kind of person to drag that out into the open. I kept my mouth shut about their personal shitty behavior for over 2 years because I thought they were doing good work. I definitely have poor opinions of others in the community, but I'm not gonna say shit unless I think it needs to be.

And honestly, I feel it needs to be.

They need to be accountable, they need to be responsible for their birds, and they need to not blow up like a volcano onto the nearest person who doubts them for half a second.

You can't shit all over The Ramsey Loft and then follow the same pattern of behavior about your animal care. You have to be better. I desperately, desperately want you to be better, GLPR.

[delimeful]

to know that song (and all its words) (9)

warnings: injury, lack of self care, fear, misunderstandings, a little bit of kidnapping, mistrust, cliffhanger

-

The dread set in as soon as Virgil dragged himself back to consciousness.

Even before he really knew what was going on, the sensation weighed heavy on him. His memories of the past three cycles were smeared into vague undefined blur, like a sand sculpture lapped at by seafoam, but the moment he opened his eyes, a distinct sense of foreboding curled up in his lungs and refused to leave.

The strangest part was that nobody else seemed to feel the suffocating weight of it.

The Humans seemed almost glued to his bedside, swapping places so smoothly that the chair set by his bedside was almost never unoccupied. He would have suspected it was a more intensive effort to keep him under watch if it weren’t for the complete lack of actual guarding going on.

(Half the time Heartfelt came in, they fell asleep with their head pillowed on their arms within a quarter-tide of sitting down. Not exactly strict warden behavior.)

It was strange. The Humans hadn’t quite reverted to their former hunted postures and exhausted eyes, but they’d unarguably been impacted by the invasion. There was a focused tension to their movements, murmured conversations in halls, an alert sort of attentiveness that they wore like a second skin.

And yet, they hadn’t turned any of that tightly-drawn energy on him.

Maybe if things were the same as before, with their weird unspoken agreement that Virgil would perform his role and not do anything stupid, and in turn they wouldn’t make the last however-long period of his life miserable with restrictions, this wouldn’t be so stressful.

But things weren’t the same. Virgil’s only useful skills involved having full use of both arms, and he’d been stripped of each and every one the moment his bone snapped on impact with the floor.

His life had been dependent on their need for someone small enough to fly the vessel for them this entire time, and now he couldn’t pilot.

They should be furious, frantic, trying to find solutions and making demands of him. Frankly, they should’ve just left him to die of shock once they realized what had happened and what it meant.

Instead, they’d settled him in the medbay with just about every medical device that might be even peripherally useful strewn about, constantly checked the information on his vital monitors, and the closest thing to a demand he received was the frequent questioning about how he felt and if he was in any pain or needed anything.

He didn’t know why they bothered asking, since they gave him dubious, disbelieving looks almost every time he brushed the question off. It wasn’t like they were his crewmates or anything, so who had tipped them off to his dislike of pain meds? They’d never even seen him injured before! Could Humans smell pain or something?

Stars and seas, he hoped not. His current plan was to bank on their ignorance of how long Ampens took to heal and get back in the pilot’s chair as quickly as possible, but that required they also be ignorant of the finer details of his injury. He’d be utterly screwed if they could somehow sense every time he re-agitated his fracture.

He would actually get started on that plan, too, except it required he was left alone long enough to actually test out how bad the pain was and sneak over to the piloting capsule, and that simply hadn’t happened even once in the past cycle of him being mostly-conscious.

Virgil felt insane for even thinking it, but the facts added up: The Humans were being clingy.

It was more subtle than expected, but once he realized, it became impossible to deny. Between the three of them, Virgil was receiving the same amount of fretting and hovering as a fledgling under the care of a first-time mother.

Sure, he’d heard rumors of Humans having fierce protective instincts, especially when it came to their young, but this level of brooding was ridiculous! Virgil was a fully-fledged adult, not a member of their pack, and completely capable of taking care of himself.

Now, he just had to make sure they knew that. Ideally without making them remember that he was currently a worthless liability to them.

Totally not stress-inducing at all, as Janus would say.

He waited until the next time Noisy was the only one watching him, since Heartfelt might not understand exactly what he was trying to say and Square looked far too exhausted and intense for him to feel good about his odds of directly asking to break a rule.

“You guys are smothering me,” he said, too wrung-out to dance around the issue. “Can I just have some time to myself, already?”

He forced himself not to bristle at the reluctant tinge that automatically sprung up to Noisy’s aether, both so the conversation didn’t escalate and because his feathers were already borderline painful from lack of grooming.

“It could be dangerous,” Noisy said, crossing his arms. “You’re not fully healed, and there’s—,” he trailed off, muttering a few phrases in Human like he was searching for a word.

Virgil struggled not to scrape his nails together in irritation. They were lucky he was going the negotiation route. If it had been his crewmates, he would already be well into biting people by now.

“I need a break,” he tried again, and then reluctantly added, “I’ll show you my pigment collection. But you can’t use them all!”

He gestured to the badly smeared and faded pigment that was still coating the downy small feathers around his eyes, a substance that his noisiest Human had asked about over and over.

Noisy brightened in delight, undeterred by Virgil’s tacked-on condition, before hesitating at the obvious bribe.

Man, they really were invested in keeping an eye on him, weren’t they? Noisy had been unbearably annoying about trying to get his hands on some pigment powder (he didn’t even have feathers?!) for ages, and now that he was being offered the opportunity, he was torn? It didn’t make any sense.

“Please,” Virgil was desperate enough to add.

“Okay, okay,” Noisy said, the tension in his aether snapping and settling into worried resignation. “I’ll go to sleep room. But only for a little while. And door open, so call and I’ll hear, okay?”

Somehow, it sounded more like a reassurance than a threat. Virgil shook himself, trying not to let stupid idealistic misinterpretations throw him off. He agreed hurriedly and waved Noisy out of the room with an impatience that clearly amused him.

Finally.

—

After a painstakingly slow climb out of the medcot, Virgil found he was actually extremely glad he hadn’t tried to remove his bulky sling just yet.

He’d started overheating from the strain before he even passed through the medbay doors. By the time he reached the cockpit, his ruff feathers were visibly vibrating from gular fluttering and his hand pads were well past damp.

He’d definitely need a dust bath after this.

To his surprise, the entrance was blocked off by a considerably large pile of materials. The array was a mishmash of everything, some items looking alarmingly expensive while others were barely more than scrap.

“What…,” he muttered, trying to puzzle out why this latest obstacle to his plan had been placed here, of all places.

A head popped up from behind the scrap. “Oh, thank Khiqea!”

Virgil made a short little alarm whistle, nearly toppling over as he scrambled back a few steps. “What are you doing on my ship?!”

The alien— they had curling mandibles and stout horned shoulders, Virgil recognized the species but couldn’t recall the name— stared at him with shiny black eyes for a long moment before speaking again, now with a slight buzz. “Your Humans kidnapped me here.”

They shuffled to the side slightly and lifted their arm, revealing that it was cuffed to… was that a medbay chair? And a chunk of medbay flooring?!

Did those idiots even know how much internal ship furnishing cost?

“Oh, I am gonna kill them,” he muttered to himself, and blinked when there was a high placating chitter from the stranger.

Right. Kidnapping victim. That was super bad, actually. “Why’d they kidnap you?”

“Did you not—,” the stranger cut themself off, before continuing in shorter, sharper words. “I was the only nonessential medic on the Hanssloane. It was part of the deal.”

The raiders. His injury. Some of it was coming back now. The Humans had abducted a whole person to make sure he didn’t die from his wounds? Why?

Instead of blurting any of that out, Virgil glanced down at where they were holding a clipboard and a simple welding tool. “You seem a little under equipped for a medic. Are you trying to bandage scrap metal, or what?”

“I— I know how to engineer,” they said hurriedly, their limbs drawing in defensively. “I have other uses! I can work for as long as you need, just— please.”

Well, if that wasn’t a familiar refrain, Virgil didn’t know what was.

“You’re a multitalented guy. Got it,” he said shortly. He wasn’t going to make any promises he couldn’t keep, but if they were so willing to talk… “What’s your name?”

“I go by Sveve,” they responded, running through a surprising number of politeness signals for a raider.

“Great,” Virgil replied, pretending not to notice the expectant pause. “Have you seen the other Humans around?”

If he wanted answers, he’d have to get them himself.

Sveve did that silent-surprise stare again, though this one was shorter. “Neither are onboard at the moment, Captain. They’re retrieving more machinery from the Hanssloane.”

Virgil resisted the urge to frown automatically at the formal address— the only time his crewmates called him that was when they were poking fun at him. Belatedly, the rest of the sentence registered.

“We’re still attached to the raider ship?” he asked, half horrified and half incredulous.

“The Humans negotiated the deal without you,” Sveve said, the words accompanied by a low click-click of realization. “They’re rogue agents. Grenghal’s balls, I’m so screwed.”

Virgil didn’t have time for their crisis. He was too busy having his own crisis.

“What was the deal? What happened while I was out?”

“You really don’t know. You weren’t there for the slaughter. And it’s not like you can trust me.” Sveve tapped their mandibles together consideringly, and then turned to check both sides of the hall before switching to a whispering buzz.

“There’s only one Human aboard now, so it might be the only chance you get. Check the footage of our boarding if you want to know the truth. Once you see it, you’ll understand the kind of monsters they really are, what they’ll do to me, to you. If we work together, we can escape.”

Virgil’s antennae pressed back as he shied away from the intent plea, but the paranoid part of him couldn’t help but perk up.

The records room was connected to Nav, more of a closet than anything. If the Humans really weren’t onboard, this might be the only chance he’d get to check without Square in the way.

Slowly, wordlessly, he edged around the pile of junk and continued down the hall towards Navigation.

He felt Sveve’s eyes follow him until he passed the curve, a familiar desperation in them that he hadn’t let himself dwell on.

He moved as quietly as possible, straining for any trace of Square or Heartfelt as he approached Nav. The Humans could be deathly silent when they wanted, but it was a habit they hadn’t kept up all the time.

The corridor was silent, and when he plucked up his courage and peered into the navigation room, it was empty, the lights low from a lack of detected motion.

Virgil took a deep breath and smoothed down his ruff as best he could, steeling himself. This was his last chance to turn back.

No. He needed to know.

He let his steps grow quicker and quicker as he crossed the room, eyes flicking from place to place warily as though Square could somehow wriggle out of an Ampen tunnel and descend upon him.

The records room door opened easily at his touch, and he let out a tense breath as he closed it behind himself. It was soundproofed, so he was as safe as he could be, for the moment.

The camera feed logs were all present and untampered with. It took only a few moments to locate the timestamps for the cycle the raiders had attacked, and he wound it back to shortly after his arm had snapped, feeling a little ill at the sight.

He ignored the urge to let it go, to ignore the gaps in his memory and the new hostage, to try and return to the status quo. Whatever he was missing, he would find out now.

He reached forward and started the footage.

[btvs3x21]

said this in the server but my god the way that azula's relationship with femininity is so fucking insanely complex without the writers ever having CONSIDERED what they were implying abt it. or gender commentary at all frankly.

ursa's initial rejection of her in her childhood is ultimately a product of azula's failure at femininity. yes she's imitating her father's opinions yes she plays dangerous games with her friends and brother, but the latter is clearly the norm in the fire nation (remember the game those fire nation kids mention in book 3 where they like try to blow each other up or something to that effect? while that is played for laughs while azula's behavior is played for drama, it's CLEARLY representative of a social norm in their culture) while the former predates the rejection. ursa already has a strained relationship with azula before azula is shown to regurgitate her father's dark opinions as simple truths. so what it falls down to then is that azula is failing at kindness and nurturing and empathy, all of which are traits that are associated with femininity. it's fair to be put off by your child lacking the social awareness to not say something callous about death, sure, but ursa is shown to completely reject these traits in azula which azula perceives as a rejection of self. frankly, we don't have enough reliable information about azula and ursa's relationship to know how right azula was to perceive it that way, but nonetheless she did, and so her resentment of her mother is tied to her resentment of her own failings at womanhood.

however, azula is rewarded for her and encouraged in her masculinity. ozai likes her violence, her apathy, her ruthlessness. she is called prodigy for her capacity for violence through firebending. her strategic mind is nourished for the sake of military conquest. all of this is allowed because even before she becomes second in line for the throne, she's a highborn lady in an imperialist country that runs on government sanctioned violence. so azula is allowed to excel in masculinity on the grounds that she is a potential heir, and ozai projects onto her under the guise of them both being the secondborn sibling he believes deserve to usurp their firstborn brother, failing to account for both the confines of her assigned sex and the fact that she is like iroh in terms of prodigy while he is like zuko in terms of lack of paternal favor.

but azula doesn't reject femininity. after her mother disappears, she starts to wear makeup constantly. to the extent that she's only seen without it when she's going to bed. during "the beach," she attempts to mimic ty lee's femininity to obtain male validation and attention (and my thoughts on THAT in regards to her gender and sexuality are plentiful of course), dumbing herself down and making herself smaller in her attempt, even if she fails to commit to it after she gets instant gratification. although it might not seem like it, she also submits to men. her will is her father's. her mission is whatever will please him. on its own, that's understandable; he is her father and her fire lord, of course she would submit to him as her superior. but she submits to zuko in a strange way as well. not only does she go out of her way to bring him home and restore his honor and consequently defer to him as heir in her place, it seems that she was never actually the crown princess, even while he was banished. why do i say that? well, when she brings zuko back home, he's announced to their people as "crown prince zuko." of course zuko could have simply been restored in the line of succession, but given that people continue to address him as "prince zuko" in his exile and the time constraint of his return to the fire nation and lack of any known royal decree that his place has been restored, i would garner a guess that azula, for whatever reason, was never actually promoted to crown princess in his absence.

all of this and the most bryke did for worldbuilding re the fire nation and gender politics was weirdly imply they were more progressive than the water tribes because they let women fight sometimes even though the ONLY fire nation women we see fighting in any military capacity are azula, mai, and ty lee. imagine if they'd ever actually explored gender in any meaningful way... actually don't. it probably wouldn't be very good since all their best work seems to be mostly accidental.