#lately i've been thinking about him aging a lot and this sort of thing is what rlly gets me like 🥰🥰🥰

[scary-monsters]

every single time i see a sudoku meme i just think of diego 💀 there's something so charming abt the mental image of him as a middle-aged man poring over an evil level sudoku puzzle while he sips on a cup of coffee, his eyebrows knitted together as he's deep in thought... truthfully i think his vision is very good but for the sake of this scenario maybe he has reading glasses too... it's SO CUTE

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

text message. l Joel Miller

a/n : a while ago i got a message from anon asking me to write something for joel. i managed to do it today. sorry you had to wait so long. i hope you like it.

warnings : pre-outbreak Joel, some angst, misunderstanding, age difference (about 10 years), suspected pregnancy, argument, Sarah and Tommy mentioned, lots of uncertainty and fear

[Joel Miller masterlist] [my masterlist]

He shouldn't have done that. It was crossing all boundaries, violating your privacy and trust, but he couldn't help himself. When your phone made a series of strange noises that indicated a message had been received and you were in the bathroom at a gas station, Joel reached for it and looked at the screen. A cold chill ran down his spine a second later.

"Two weeks late? Did you take a test? You should see a doctor. What did Joel say?"

A heavy stone landed squarely in his stomach, and he felt his head spin. “Fuck!” he groaned almost silently, shaking his hand as he placed the phone back where you’d left it.

He immediately guessed what you and your friend could have been talking about, he had no doubts. If you were pregnant, that complicated everything.

Joel Miller wasn't entirely sure if he should do it, but when he met you on one of his bar crawls with his younger brother Tommy, he felt like fate had finally favored him. He was almost thirty-six, had a teenage daughter, worked hard, and couldn't remember the last time he'd met a woman. You, on the other hand, were simply beautiful, talkative, with a charming smile on your lips. You were also almost ten years younger than him.

It didn't bother him as much on your first date, or your second, or when you kissed on the couch, or after the first time you had sex. Joel felt younger and happier with you, and everyone around him noticed the change in him.

He fell in love like a stupid teenager, and you didn't make it any easier for him. It was only after a few months that he started to wonder. Maybe dating you wasn't so wise? Maybe you were really too young for him?

When you would visit him at work, bringing him lunch or something, guys would often make fun of him. Joel wasn't as immune to this as he thought. His insecurities grew, and worries about whether he was doing the right thing also grew in his mind too.

And now this. Pregnancy. When Sarah was born, he was too young, and now he felt too old to be playing in diapers. What if you, too, disappeared, like Sarah's mother? Would he be able to cope? What if no woman saw the possibility of a permanent relationship with him, and when the baby came, she simply ran away?

"Hey. Is everything okay?"

He didn't even notice that you had returned and were already sitting next to him. He nodded uncertainly and cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Tommy called, something at the construction site." he lied, quickly starting the engine.

"Do you want to go there?"

"What? No, I don't have to." Joel replied, "Sarah has a game today."

He didn't say anything else the entire ride home, and then to the game you went to with them. He seemed strangely distant, but you were certain he was constantly thinking about work. Even when you suggested ice cream afterward, Joel showed almost no interest.

You dropped Sarah off at a friend's for a sleepover and you were sure that you and Joel would go to his place, but when he suddenly said, "I'll drop you home." You already knew something was wrong.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked as he pulled the truck up in front of your apartment. Once again, you spent the entire ride in silence, which wasn’t normal.

He shook his head. "No, everything's fine."

“Joel? Look at me, please.” He did it reluctantly, but eventually your eyes met. “You’ve been out of sorts all day. What’s wrong?”

"I've had a lot on my mind lately and..."

"Please, don't lie to me." You interrupted him. You weren't mad, he saw concern on your face. "Did something happen?"

“I…” he began, but the words were hard to get out of his throat. He felt your warm hand on his forearm and it broke him. “Are you pregnant?”

"W-What?" you blurted out, completely surprised.

"I saw, quite by accident, a message from your friend. You're two weeks late. Something about a test and a doctor. I need to know."

You looked at him with slightly parted lips, a small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows. You couldn't gather your thoughts in your head, but Joel clearly couldn't stop himself from talking.

“I think about it all the time. You’re still young, you have plans,” he said, and you felt every word hit you harder. “I know we should be more careful. This whole thing between us is still new and uncertain. You’re so young, I shouldn’t have… Fuck. I fucked it up.”

"What the hell are you talking about, Miller?" you gasped, completely stunned by his words "What do you mean - too young? I..."

"Look at us. I have a teenage daughter, and you're at the beginning of your career. You can leave this town anytime you want, because there's nothing keeping you here. But what if you're pregnant? That complicates things like hell and..."

"Stop it!" you raised your hand in warning "You're talking nonsense! I knew how old you were from the beginning, I knew about Sarah and it didn't bother me."

Joel rolled his eyes. "Now you say that."

“Oh! And you’re a know-it-all!” you snorted angrily. “So I think it’s safe to say you took advantage of a young and fresh pussy.”

Joel gave you a stern look, but you didn't even blink. You were ready to fight him if he wanted to. You were aware of his fears and insecurities, but you thought that by this point you had already shown him how much you cared about him. Age was just a number to you, and ten years didn't make much difference when you weren't a teenager anymore.

"I never thought of you that way." he replied, clenching his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning slightly white.

"I feel different now." you replied, shrugging. "Because you're acting like you're just looking for an excuse to break up with me. Because you read some message on my phone? Please! That's pathetic!"

“Pathetic?!” Joel raised his voice. How could you be so indifferent to how your life might change? No one in their right mind would decide to have a child so soon. But of course, you were still young, the romantic vision of a family still lingered in your mind, and you didn’t realize how much it would affect you.

Joel wanted to say something else, but you suddenly grabbed your things and got out of the car slamming the door. He quickly got out after you.

"Did you take the test? When are you seeing the doctor?" he asked, catching you before the door.

"Leave me alone." you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think I do."

You looked at him in a way Joel had never experienced before. Your warm gaze turned hard and angry, your mouth a thin line, and your entire body took on a defensive stance. You had never argued like this before.

"Fine." you finally said. "I'll tell you. I have an appointment on Monday. Are you happy?"

"I'll go with you."

“Don’t be ridiculous, this doesn’t concern you at all,” you laughed nervously. “And it definitely doesn’t concern you now.”

Joel looked at you in surprise. So he's already screwed everything up? He's already erased those few really good months?

“I’m not pregnant,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “My last checkup showed I had ovarian cysts. They caused my periods to be irregular, and now my period is a few weeks late. The doctor said I should see him if that happens.”

"Cysts?" Joel repeated.

"Yes! I didn't tell you anything because I didn't see the need." you replied "I'm not pregnant, Joel. And you... You, fucked up."

You turned around and disappeared through the door before he had a chance to say anything.

Joel had all night to think about what had happened. All night without sleep, when he kept seeing your angry face in his mind, when he kept repeating your words and feeling worse by the moment. He picked up the phone several times to call you, but he kept giving up, terrified you wouldn't pick up.

What would he have done if you hadn't picked up? Would that have meant the end for both of you? He couldn't believe that his own fears and insecurities had led him to attack you so suddenly. He could have done it differently, he could have waited for you to say something. Instead, he had cornered you and forced you to admit to something that was clearly your own personal issue, one that you wanted to resolve on your own.

He knew nothing about women's health issues. When Sarah got her first period, he managed with the help of a nice store employee, and then his daughter took over. For Joel, a missed period meant pregnancy, and that meant panic and everything he had experienced before.

No, he didn't want to make excuses for his behavior. He had screwed up. He felt like you were disappointed in him and he had no idea what to do about it.

It was still early when he showed up at your place. You opened the door, sleepy, with ruffled hair, in one of those oversized t-shirts you slept in.

"Joel?" you mumbled hoarsely, rubbing your face, "Did something happen? Something with Sarah?"

He shook his head. "No. I had to see you. I had to... Fuck." He scratched the back of his neck, nervously shifting from foot to foot, "Can we talk? I, I need to know that I didn't completely fuck this up."

You looked at him for a moment in silence, as if you were considering his words in your head. It was a really long few seconds, but you finally pulled away, allowing Joel to step inside. The apartment was bathed in morning sunlight, and Joel's eyes immediately went to the few framed photos of him and Sarah that you had at your place. Another needle stabbed him in the heart.

"So?" you asked, folding your arms over your chest. "I'm listening."

"I don't know where to start." he mumbled completely sincerely.

"I suggest you start from the beginning."

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm a fucking idiot."

You tilted your head. "Good start."

Joel took a deep breath. He wanted to do it right, he wanted to take advantage of the chance he was given. Maybe it was the last one he had.

"I know now that I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I still can't believe you chose me. I kept thinking we weren't right for each other, that we were too different."

“Are you still thinking about age?”

He nodded. "Yeah. See, you're young, and I..."

You rolled your eyes and cursed loudly. “If you’re going to give me this age difference bullshit, maybe just leave. Jesus! That’s not twenty or fifty. Joel, I’m an adult, I work, I pay taxes. I get to decide who I’m with?”

“You think so now.”

“I thought so from the beginning! When I met you, the first thing I thought was that you have gorgeous eyes and really broad shoulders. I felt good with you, I liked you, and I think you’re really sexy. It has nothing to do with your age.” You took a deep breath and put your hands on your hips, like you were trying to explain something really obvious. “Sarah is amazing, I love spending time with her. I love you, even though sometimes you drive me crazy, and yesterday you really pissed me off. I didn’t tell you about the doctor because there was nothing to talk about. But if you had any suspicions, you should have come to me instead of getting even more upset. I felt like you were just looking for a reason to break up with me.”

“It’s not like that.” Joel took a step toward you. “When Sarah’s mother left us, I was left to fend for myself. Yes, there was Tommy and my mother to help us, but single parenting is no easy feat. I was certain you would disappear, too. Not only would you leave me with a child, but you would simply conclude that I was somehow flawed, that I wasn’t cut out to be with you. I guess I preferred sabotaging us rather than simply facing my fears.”

You looked at him, trying to understand his words. His face, eyes, and body language told you he wasn't lying. Joel was full of uncertainty and doubt, but you thought you were past that stage. You told him many times that you loved him, you didn't belittle his needs, and you always helped him with Sarah or around the house. And yet he felt all of this?

“I’m trying to understand you, Joel, I really am.” You finally said, sighing softly. “But I can’t be the only one in this relationship fighting for us. I feel like no matter what I say or do, you’ll find a reason why we can’t be together. Do you even love me?”

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving closer and taking your face in his hands. “You have no idea how much I love you. And that scares me. I’m always afraid you’ll find all my flaws.”

"You have a lot of them. I do too. But does it matter when we're happy together?"

No, it didn't matter. The fear of losing you showed Joel what really mattered to him. He cared about you more than he could admit. He saw how perfectly you fit into his family, always trying to help everyone and make everyone happy. He didn't think he'd ever feel the same way about anyone again. 

"I'm sorry, baby. I don't know what I could do to fix this." He whispered, you felt tears welling up in your eyes at how much he was going through. "But I don't want to end what we have. I love you, I'm sure of that."

"You think so now." You replied, parroting his words.

He smiled slightly. “I’ve known this for a long time, and I think the knowledge scared me. The fear that you’d disappear and I’d be left alone with this feeling. I don’t want you to disappear. I want to stay, permanently.”

"I want to stay too, Joel. Don't push me away ever again."

"Never again, baby."

He kissed you, softly and tenderly, as if he was afraid he still might. But when you kissed him back, Joel felt an unimaginable sense of relief. He had you in his arms again, all the dark thoughts swirling in his head dissipated and he felt happiness fill him. Your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you, letting him kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

You could get through this, together. By being more honest, by giving each other a chance at happiness and love, by supporting each other. Joel knew he would do anything to deserve you, and you couldn't imagine not giving him another chance.

“I’ll go to the doctor with you on Monday if you want,” he said as you poured him a fresh cup of coffee and sat down next to him at the table.

“If you want. I could use some support,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of your head and smiled. He would give you anything, and you never asked for much. You just wanted him to love you, and Joel wanted that too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[puzzled-pegasus]

Do you ever just think about how awful it is to be a demigod before you know about it?

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. How much demigod kids and teenagers don't fit in with mortal society. Their mortal parents don't know what to do with them, even if they do care for them immensely. They are labeled as troublemakers, as bad kids, as mentally ill, as freaks and monsters who see things they shouldn't see and have an aversion to authority that they shouldn't have and a strong sense of justice and an inability to sit still, read, play, act, feel normally. Percy got in trouble for getting into fights, for speaking impulsively, he was mocked and spoken down to and expelled from lots of schools who couldn't handle him and he didn't know why until he was twelve years old. Sally wasn't able to tell him why.

Annabeth was the product of her father's relationship with a goddess, and he loved her for a while, but she wasn't a normal kid. When he fell in love with a mortal and Annabeth didn't get along with her or her kids, he chose the mortal side. How could he understand Annabeth's side? She was just a badly behaved kid, while his new wife and children were the normal good ones.

Jason always knew he was a demigod, he was accepted and praised and tons of expectations were placed on him from a frighteningly young age. Part of the reason the others resent him and see him as a sort of golden child is because he was placed on a pedestal and he will never, ever know what it was like for all of his friends to be looked down on as children, to be scolded for things they didn't understand and told that the things they saw and experienced constantly were not real.

Piper was always loved by her father but I think he loved the idea of her, he loved that she reminded him of the beautiful woman he met years ago. He was always kind to her and usually gave her things she wanted, but he couldn't always spend time with her as his job got busier. Piper sensed that her father's attention was occupied by something else, and as he got busier, she felt less supported and stole things and got in fights and her dad didn't know what to do with her after the BMW so she was sent to a troubled teen program where she was bullied for her disabilities and her race.

Leo feared his power because it killed the person he loved the most, and after that, everything in his life was hell. He didn't feel safe anywhere, he didn't have anyone he could trust, and adults saw him as a troublemaker who would never amount to anything.

The books don't emphasize these things as much with any of the other demigods, or maybe Annabeth, Percy, Piper, and Leo are the best examples we have. I just. They're so tragic. They're all my children all of them. I love them and I feel so sad for them

[georgeclarkesgf]

forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

[hqwkeyes]

I've seen all the discourse lately regarding Bob's character depiction in fics, and I was initially going to keep my opinion to myself. I've been in this fandom for quite a while now and I don't enjoy drama or getting involved in it, but this feels like more than that. So, while I am putting my two cents in, I will not be arguing with anyone about this. This isn’t me “going after” anyone. This isn’t a call-out post. Simply giving my own opinion on the matter, and maybe a new perspective on all of this. But yeah, this is gonna be a little long.

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief (like the briefest) mentions of potentially dubious consent (in the link), thunderbolts* spoilers ofc

First of all, I think it’s important to note that fanfiction is free. It is someone willingly sharing their writing with the public. And a lot of these writers, especially those for Thunderbolts, are new to writing and maybe new to the MCU. This is all supposed to be fun. If someone is depicting a character in a way that is harmless but also just doesn’t meet your preference, or you think it’s out of character, that’s okay. We can move along and read/write something that we find more agreeable. There is a stark difference between criticizing someone’s work and critiquing it, and I think that’s a line that perhaps we all need to remember. It’s one thing if someone’s writing is harmful in some way, but there is no need to be plain mean about others’ work simply because you imagined something differently than they did.

Now, getting to the main point. I’ve seen people talk about particular details of Bob’s character. And let’s be honest here, the majority of fanfiction about Bob is going to be using speculation and headcanon because we just don’t know enough about his character. We did this with Bucky Barnes for years before TFATWS, which is when, at least I think, we finally got to see some real details about his character and his personality in the MCU. The same goes for so many other characters in the MCU, and Bob is no different.

People have largely been upset about writers infantilizing Bob, and while I do think there are cases of that out there, I think it’s important to take into consideration what we actually do know about his character:

Yes, Bob is a grown man. He is in his late-20s/early-30s. He also experienced domestic abuse throughout his childhood and consistent drug abuse from childhood into his adulthood. And that is on top of mental illness, presumably bipolar disorder and depression. All of these factors could very well have impacted his development. Meaning that potentially stuttering or stammering here and there could be possible. That also can be normal for the everyday person. There is a difference between stuttering and having a stutter. People stutter all the time, and it often goes unnoticed. I personally think going overboard with that—and some people do—doesn’t necessarily seem in-character for him, but that’s my opinion, and I simply won’t read or write that. Again, I do, however, think a stutter or stammer here and there could be used as more of him being flustered or trying to verbalize a thought in a situation, as this is something anyone might do (more on that here). And I most definitely do not think stuttering makes someone seem childlike. That, to me, is offensive. And that is infantilization, ironically.

We have seen Bob shut down. “Always making things worse.” That’s someone with a confidence issue of some sort. Being told that from a young age and really, truly believing it. It’s reasonable to believe he might stutter or stumble over his words at times, or hesitate when speaking. If you think about it, it really could make sense for his character. And I do believe he stutters/stammers at least once or twice in the movie, though it could easily go unnoticed.

As for the “Bob can’t be a virgin” point, I just don’t think that’s true. Adults can absolutely be virgins. That definitely is not infantilizing him. We don’t know many details of Bob’s life prior to Malaysia, or his sexuality. And correlating his virginity, or lack thereof, to his drug abuse is also an interesting presumption. I think it could be safe to assume either. This post makes some really great points regarding this topic. At the end of the day, if you don’t want to read about virgin!Bob, then don’t. Again, fanfiction is free, and I’m sure there are other fics out there you might enjoy. But no one is being harmed by virgin!Bob and it isn’t going against canon either.

Regarding Bob being depicted as a soft, sweet, maybe shy character, I don’t think that is necessarily infantilizing on its own either. He can be kind and sensitive and affectionate, and still be assertive at times, still swear, still be sarcastic, and he’s still incredibly capable. He can be all of those things. At the end of the day, he’s a person. People have more than one personality trait, more than one emotion, and they can absolutely act differently with different people. Why can’t he be soft and sweet? Because he’s been through so much? Because he’s a man? I genuinely don’t understand that, and I honestly don’t want to. If you like super sweet, fluffy Bob fics, then cool! If you prefer wayy less of that, there are plenty of fics out there for you too!

And I’ll say here: I absolutely have seen a fic or two where I felt they were infantilizing Bob, whether they intended to or not. Writing him like a kid who couldn’t do things for himself. Writing like the others have to police him. Writing like he is just sweet but incapable. And I don’t agree with it. But to say he can’t do or be the above things because he’s a grown man is a blatant misconception. And yeah, he might need help from the others sometimes. Bipolar disorder and depression are not easy to live with or manage sometimes, and I like to think that the others look out for him and help him when he needs it. I mean, they brought him with them to keep an eye on him. They are there to support him.

Anyway, that’s my take. No hate to anyone, just looking at Bob with a broader scope.

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

This is complaining day because I realized there's more than one thing that got on my nerves lately and it's not just about the treatment of a kpop idol's mother. Let's begin.

Please, stop refering to Jungkook's mother as mama Jeon. I know the tendency is to ignore so many of the cultural differences that exist, but in SK, people don't change their surname after marriage. It just sounds idiotic and westernized in a ridiculous way.

So, Jungkook's mother loves all BTS members. She LOVES them all. How does army know that? How? I'm genuinely curious and genuinely asking. Because they say it as a certainty. Or, forgive me if my memory is faulty as well, but the only instance that we as outsiders were privy to in which we heard that woman speak for the first time, it was in early 2021 on another phonecall with Jungkook when she said I love you to Jimin.

Of course, the same ot7 narrative came as a buldozer at that time too. Damn, does that mean Jimin = BTS? Sometimes yes, but only when Army wants to diminish Jimin's importance and doesn't allow him to stand out individually too much. Musically or otherwise. But back to this Big Love that Jungkook's mom is supposedly feeling for everyone and which has been invoked once again when that woman mentioned Jimin twice while talking to Jungkook on the phone. Cause she already knew they were in Jeju. I bet she didn't have to find out randomly from a schedule group chat.

So what happens? An assumption is turned into certainty because of small people being extremely insecure. Because they see that one person is once again given more importance on a personal level and we can't have that. No sir! So in a panic, they tweet, they post on tumblr, tiktok, youtube the old age, boring af, sounding like a broken record sentence: "Mama Jeon loves all seven". Fuck me gently with a chainsaw cause that sounds a lot better than the feeling of throwing up I get whenever I read such things.

No, she doesn't love all of them. That is not a fact. It could be true and it's not impossible. But it is not a fact based on the knowledge we have at the moment.

Also, it shows once again that an entire fandom is actively creating a reality of their own which is not even like some sort of simulacrum of the reality they must live through. In Army world, the mother of one member of a k-pop group must love all the members of such group. It doesn't matter than irl, our mothers a lot of the times don't even like all our friends, besties or partners. We might have the most incredible connections and it would mean nothing to our mothers.

In that same vein, another narrative that makes me want to pull my eyes out is the "awww, their bond is to die for, they are (like) siblings after all". Do any of them never had any siblings? Never saw other people and their relationship with their siblings? Or with their family?

I also had to read (which was followed by me blocking it immediately) how Jimin and Jungkook's relationship is the sum of the other relationships they have with other BTS members. I mean, why would I have any sort of expectations from any of these people when they are completely incapable of looking at JM and JK as actual people. As persons with individual minds and an intellect of their own. Let alone the fact that their world does not stop with the presence of 5 other men. In what realistic scenario does this translate in real life? That's not how it works. Yes, we are social creatures and a product of our surroundings, but it is not in the way in which these stans believe it to be. They think that living in a dorm for a few years and working together with other people, it means that those experiences are the only ones that actually shape the personality of a person. They are real people, not fictional characters. I've never heard such ridiculous theories in my entire life, to be used as talking points about someone's behavior or relationship with another person.

Maybe the need to create this elaborate fantasy comes from the lack of love in their life, which then gets projected into this Disney, kumbaya, capitalist heaven narrative in which everyone is a big family and they love each other so much and equally and all the parents of all the children love every single member and thus, harmony is created. Love is always platonic and ever present. The complexity of human relationships must not exist.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i've been having a couple of downer days recently, and i kept looking for a verse i haven't read thrice yet for some comfort, but you're age! gap verse has been a pleasant escape even though its not what i was looking for. you're writing never fails to make me feel better ari 💕💕

Here's how they met 💜

Bruce sighed. He was starting to hate talk show appearances, but at least this one had never been too bad. Angelique was chatty and fun but not grating. Her show ran as school let out. So grannies watched after their naps and kids watched getting off the bus. She ran a little something for everyone.

He assumed he was here for the grannies.

"I'm so sorry I'm late the shoot ran over and I couldn't get away."

The voice caught his attention. Not the fake starlet over dramatic gushing, but genuine distress. And he half turned to look. You looked like you came from a shoot. Straight off the pages of a glossy magazine.

"No worries, Miss Y/L/N we got your call in enough time. We'll just touch up your face and you'll be good to go," the manager greeting you, said.

Bruce smiled a little. Clearly, you were a frequent guest. You thanked him profusely and trotted off. Not needing to be told where to go. And as you go, there's several crew members you can greet by name. You've either been here a lot or worked with them before. Or both. But, it's endearing.

He turned back around listening to Angelique get her updates on where production was. "-And Y/N is in hair and makeup as we speak."

"Oh, bless her heart," Angelique said. "That's what I get calling her last minute." She turned to Bruce and held out her hand, "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," he chuckled taking her hand, "You know these sorts of things aren't my forte. My oldest on the other hand-"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Angelique reassured him, patting the hand she was holding before letting it go. "Y/N is an old pro- Ah! speak of the devil!" She swooped over and kissed you on either cheek. "You look absolutely divine, is that one of yours?"

"You know it is," you tell her laughing, returning the gesture. "As if I could walk in and NOT wear my own design, you'd never let me live it down."

"So true. Darling," she said grabbing your hand and pulling you over to Bruce, "I want you to meet Bruce. You'll be on stage together today. You know it's charity week and I though it would be great to highlight all the work you do for school arts programs along side the Wayne foundation," she said.

"Hello," you tell him, holding out your hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, taking the hand you offered warmly. Giving you his most charming smile. You did look good. And he could tell they hadn't done much to your face or your hair. "I'm a big fan of your work," he commented.

Your smile didn't falter but your eyes narrowed slightly. And Bruce cringed internally Shit. She thinks I mean the Playboy spread, he thought. "Your last movie, the drama, especially. The range of emotion and the depth- It really was incredible."

"Thank you," you tell him. "It was challenging but I really enjoyed it."

Bruce felt his face heat when Angelique coughed and he remembered hearing that you had the ability to make someone feel like they were the only person in the room. He'd forgotten for just a second. In just that brief moment that he was waiting for an appearance. "It showed I uh- my kids made fun of me when I cried at the end-"

"Aww, Angelique gushed, "This is amazing. you guys keep up this chemistry. It'll go totally viral." She bounced on the balls of her feet and kissed your cheek again, "I'll have someone bring you a coffee, sweetie. You're going to start wilting soon."

And before you could say anything or Bruce could offer to go and get it for you himself, Angelique had bustled off to find and assistant to give marching orders to.

[syndrossi]

You know this ask-post of yours? It feels kinda cracky when I start to think about it instead of "semi happy" as you put it for best case scenario? But maybe that's me because when I actually start writing anything at all I always end up with an conversational and humorous tone, I guess? So that might just be me.

And I have no idea where this idea came from, as far as I know it has no basis in any asoiaf/got media, but I kinda like the idea that Jon, despite looking so much a Stark that Ned's children (sans Arya) look less Stark than him, all his /expressions/ are all Targaryen. You wouldn't know it without comparison, but when Winterfell suddenly has the late Queen Rhaella and an alive and for some reason a teenage Prince Reaghar in the courtyard all confused like and someone sees Jon near them they suddenly have a lot of questions! Especially when they pull the same face as a reaction to something in sinc! It's uncanny.

Also, in that au, though I guess it could be in both this one and restoration too, but in either of those, after confirming that Jon does, in fact, remember and is still /his/ Jon, would Reaghar freak out (even just in the privacy of his own mind!) over the fact that Jon, for some reason, omitted the fact that he happened to be his /son/? Whom he aparently didn't even have the opportunity to raise! It would be funny to read that in a morbid sort of way? I mean they are Targaryens! Their mothers are their aunts and cousins they should be used to weird family relations, but still!

I mean, the premise of Restoration itself (which isn't too different from "Rhaegar and Rhaella show up in Winterfell at the start of AGOT with dragons") is more than a little cracky. I'm just your opposite, where I like to take crack premises (Arthur Dayne appears suddenly and tries to join the Princesguard!) and try to treat them seriously. 😅

Well, the good thing about Jon potentially have very Targaryen expressions (quite possible if he inherited, say, Rhaegar's mouth and brow) is that not too many people are around who would even recognize them, including Ned. It's not like Ned was buddy-buddy with Rhaegar, and I doubt he ever got closer than twenty paces to Aerys or Rhaella, assuming he ever visited KL when younger. But I could see him studying Jon's face on occasion and going "that's not my sister's expression." And spending a moment panicking before reminding himself that no one would possibly make a Targaryen connection.

Except if you suddenly throw two suddenly-not-dead Targaryens into the mix, including Rhaegar at the same age as Jon, when their similarities would be most apparent!

I'm assuming the two of them get a quick history lesson while Ned is internally screaming about what to do with the smoking dragon guns pointing directly at Jon saying EXTRA TARGARYEN THAT I'VE KEPT HIDDEN RIGHT HERE. Fortunately, their dragons (or hatchlings, depending on age) mean they do have some leg up.

(Wait, does Ned try to pull the same Restoration AU story with Rhaella and Rhaegar??? *squints* Basically "this is Jon's baby mama, and uhhh he had a twin who my lover demanded to keep, so we split them up." Surely not. But he does need to buy some time for the dragons to be effective, and that will involve "hiding" Rhaella and Rhaegar somehow.)

But yes, just like Restoration AU, Rhaegar is going to be very upset about Jon withholding very pertinent information such as Rhaegar having been his (dead) father, WTF JON.

[coraniaid]

buffy/angel

I think Buffy's relationship with Angel is a hugely important part of her character and something which is vital to understanding all of her future romantic relationships. Yeah, maybe Boreanaz isn't the world's best actor (or second best, or third best, or ...) but Angel's hardly the only character in the first couple of seasons whose actor could be doing a better job and at a certain point all of the clowning on him starts to feel a bit tedious. I honestly kind of hate the way some fans of other ships will try to handwave away the importance of this relationship and pretend that Buffy wasn't ever really in love with Angel or that she'd be fundamentally the same person if she'd never met him. It just feels like a total refusal to engage with what is actually happening on screen.

That said: I don't ship it, no.

1) Why don't you ship it?

For me there are three main issues.

First, there's a bit of a pacing issue. The late Season 1 dynamic -- Buffy is attracted to Angel but conflicted about the fact he's a vampire and they definitely aren't dating as such -- is pretty good, I think, if not anything groundbreaking. As Xander says early on, Angel is "a very attractive man". He's a mysterious older guy who shows up now and then whenever there's danger and he's very pretty and brooding and troubled and he gives Buffy his leather jacket when she's cold and tells her to keep it because it "looks better on you". Buffy is into him. I get it.

That's how we start Season 2, too. In When She Was Bad Buffy tells Angel "there is no us" and claims she didn't spend the summer "mooning over" him, but we also see that she missed him and she tries and fails to tell him that. In Reptile Boy Buffy admits to Willow that she's been dreaming about Angel a lot but insists that "the vampire thing" means she can't have a relationship with him; Willow later gets angry with Angel on Buffy's behalf and asks him why he can't make time for a cup of coffee.

But by What's My Line?, just four episodes later, Buffy and Angel are definitely dating (he takes her to the ice rink, she claims that Spike has crossed a line because "nobody messes with my boyfriend"). So that gives the show just three episodes to go from "Buffy is attracted to Angel but they aren't in any sort of relationship" to "wait, yes they are" and I'm not sure it manages it. (Especially because the question of their relationship doesn't even really come up in The Dark Age.)

Are they already dating in Halloween, when Buffy dresses up to impress Angel and he tells her she's "not like other girls"? Are they dating in Lie To Me, when Angel seems jealous of Buffy's newly arrived ex-crush Ford and Buffy tells Angel she loves him but doesn't know if she trusts him? This isn't a rhetorical question: I genuinely don't know. In the same episode Ford asks Buffy if Angel is her boyfriend and her reply is "No. Uh, yeah. Maybe." before she asks for a break from "the tough questions". The show needs Buffy and Angel to get together, for Surprise and Innocence and everything that follows, but it feels like large parts of their developing relationship must be happening entirely off-screen.

That ties into my second problem, which is ... well, I'm not sure the show is actually very good at writing this sort of romance plot? It's a teen supernatural drama set in a high school, so all these rituals of first dates and crushes and saying "I love you" for the first time and putting labels like "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" to things are hugely important to the characters, but I don't think they really matter to the writers much at all. And more broadly I don't think I really share the writers sense of what is and what isn't romantic. (As I've said before, the Riley stuff in Season 4 explicitly shows us what the writers think a healthy relationship for Buffy looks like and it's kind of awful?) The speech Angel gives Buffy in Halloween about she's not like other girls (because said girls were uniformly "dull, simpering morons" who he "hated") is obviously meant to be romantic, but ... uh. Yikes.

And it certainly doesn't help that a year and half later Angel will give Buffy the "not like other girls" speech again and describe a completely different set of girls who he finds boring and hateful. (A scene that is, again, portrayed in a way I really don't understand.) For that matter, it doesn't help that in Becoming (Part 1) we get a slight retcon when we see that Angel didn't actually meet Buffy for the first time in Welcome To The Hellmouth ("truth is, I thought you'd be taller") but actually ... well. Was driven past her school in a dark car with tinted windows to check her out while she was a fifteen year old high school student. (In context, I want to believe that this is a deliberate choice on the writers part to make us feel uneasy about the basis of the relationship -- just like the choice in I Only Have Eyes For You to parallel it to a relationship between a teenager and his adult teacher -- but in practice I'm not so sure! The Becoming flashback gets brought up again in Season 3 but the framing when it does seems to suggest it's a lot more romantic than I ever took it as being.)

I find it easy to believe Buffy would be attracted to Angel. I find it easy to believe she is (was) in love with him and that the fact she was forced to send him to hell still haunts her years later. I just don't really think the show does a good job of showing how she goes from being attracted to him and "mooning after" him to being in love with him and not even noticing when he vamps out. I think the viewer just needs to do too much of the work. (Maybe this is something where the show suffers from being watched on DVD or steaming services on demand rather than at most one episode per week. In real time, over a month passed between Reptile Boy and What's My Line? which is plenty of time for the audience's imagination to fill in some of the gaps. On my last season-long rewatch I think I watched the three intervening episodes over the course of two evenings.)

And this ties into my third problem, which is that while I believe her relationship with Angel is hugely important to Buffy it never really feels like Buffy means that much to Angel. And maybe that is on Boreanaz's acting, at least a little bit. Maybe a better actor would have done better in the role. I'm not sure they would have been able to do much with the material they were given, but it might have helped.

But it's also down to the writing. Both in Buffy -- when, because Buffy is the main character, we don't really get to see Angel's side of things at all -- but mostly because of how Angel is written in Angel. There was a very deliberate choice on the part of the Angel writers (specifically Greenwalt, I think?) to play up Angel's past relationship with Darla in a way that reframes his relationship with Buffy. And while I understand that decision from a writing point of view -- the show needs to give Angel's character more depth, it doesn't want to live forever in the shadow of its parent show, SMG can't keep making cameo appearances -- and I do really like Darla as a character, it does a huge disservice to Buffy.

Because the retcon means that, while Angel is the hugely important figure in Buffy's life and always will be, to Angel Buffy is ... just a teenage girl he saw one day who reminded him of his old lover Darla. Darla is to Angel what Angel is to Buffy. It doesn't sit at all well with either of those "not like other girls" speeches he gave her. We know now that Angel met somebody "exciting" centuries before Buffy was even born. We surely don't believe Angel when he tells Buffy he's been with "hundreds" of girls like Faith but Buffy is the only woman he's ever loved. There's just this fundamental asymmetry there that makes it really hard to be emotionally invested in the ship. (To be clear: the problem isn't that Buffy isn't the first person Angel's loved, it's that so much of their relationship on her show involves him repeatedly telling her that she was, only for it to be later revealed that this can't be true. It makes him fundamentally dishonest in a way I don't think he was originally written to be.)

2) What would have made you ship it?

Hand on heart I'm not sure anything could have made me ship it as such.

Maybe there's some version of Buffy in which Angel never left for LA and we didn't get those 1996 flashbacks in Becoming and Season 3 really played up Angel's time in hell and had him more slowly rebuild his strength and memories before starting to think about a relationship with Buffy again that I'd have got more invested in. Maybe if Angel had stayed in hell for longer, and only come back in Season 4 (and Buffy could have been hiding him not just from her friends but from the Initiative). But I don't really think so.

Season 2 of Buffy is really good -- maybe the show's best, honestly -- and a huge part of that is the whole Angel-losing-his-soul side of things. I wouldn't want to change that. But once you've gone through that arc, once you've done the "Buffy sleeps with a guy she likes and afterwards it like he's a whole new person and she never really knew him at all" metaphor, I don't think you can go back to the status quo.

3) Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

As I said above, I think it's a hugely important relationship for Buffy and I'm a little suspicious of people who try to pretend it isn't. I don't hate it: I just find it a little underwhelming in execution. Angel and Buffy do have some nice moments together before he loses his soul. I don't dislike Amends as much as some people do, and I think Buffy's speech to Angel about the importance of fighting day after day and never giving up is good. I like the fact Angel comes back to Sunnydale after Joyce dies to check in on Buffy. I even like his cameo in the finale. It's a bit perfunctory, sure, and there's more than a bit of the deus ex machina about the whole magical amulet thing, but it wouldn't have felt right to Buffy's story for him not to be there.

(She should have asked how Cordelia was doing while they were catching up though. Make him lie to her once more for old time's sake.)

[mammalsofaction]

HUMAN PERRY AU BACKSTORY

I've been having a lot of thoughts lately about Human Perry headcanons as I read a bunch of fic and rewatch phineas and ferb. You know you're hitting the nail on the head when scenes from a fic you might never write dog your every waking step and haunts your dreams so, I thought putting it on paper will help.

A lot of fics like to suggest that Perry's full name is Peregrine, which is understandable, but ever since I've rewatched 2D and found out their first name for him was actually Bartholomew my life was never the same. So Perry's actual name is Bartholomew. But nobody actually calls him that least of all himself.

FAMILY RELATIONS

-I really like winding headcanons that Perry is Ferb's biological mom's BROTHER, which honestly makes so much sense as to why both he and Ferb have green hair. Here are some add-ons that may get depressing;

Ferb's mom was Eve, or Evelyn. Her codename was E, for Echidna...because egg-laying mammals native to Australia. They were both orphans, and attached to the hip. They were each other's partner in crime.

-They were scouted for OWCA one day, bc the agency liked picking up kids with potential as young as possible. So Perry and Eve were trained for the agency since the start (which is why Perry is such a good agent at what seems to be a young age)

MY HEADCANONS FOR OWCA

-Owca is a largely independent authoritarian enterprise with branches all over the world. They aren't the only ones, obviously.

-OWCA also prefers training agents as early as they could. Sometimes that entails scouting talent. Sometimes that means taking in kids of employed agents. Either way, this means OWCA has elementary and high schools that are more akin to militant training camps. It's not cruel. The kids are well cared for and well fed, but OWCA prioritized competency, obedience and discipline.

On every level of OWCA recruitment, training and employment, there is a fedora, and band to mark whichever level you are on the totem pole.

1) Middle school kids are given a bandless fedora.

2) High school kids (soon to be graduates) are given a white band

3) Fresh graduates, training into full employment, are Yellow Bands. Here you start being assigned to full branches, and trained by field work professionals. Think OWCA Files.

4) It's fairly easy to graduate from Yellow Band into a Purple Band. Purple Bands are largely refereed to as Junior Agents, but that's not quite accurate. Purple Bands are the highest reporting authority in any division that ISN'T FIELD WORK. The OWCA Tech, Clerks, RnD and Science Divisions all have Purple Bands to signify they are fully employed, or Superior Officer. Pinky has a Purple Band.

5) It's VERY DIFFICULT to graduate from a Purple Band to a Black Band, not least because there IS NO PREDETERMINED TEST. Black Band agents are Superior Agents, only one level below Division General. There's no telling what could turn you from a Purple to a Black, because the agent has to prove unwavering obedience and faith to the agency in dire circumstances. It's saying "I am willing to do anything for the Greater Good."  Often it entails a death of some sort. OWCA often says Black is the band soaked in blood. Black Band agents have licenses to kill. It's why Black Band Agents are few and precious far in between.

6) After a black band, and you live long enough to retire, you can choose a bunch of things. Most agents choose to become Division Generals or Branch Managers: think Major Monogram. They're basically glorified "Guy in the Chair". Some agents choose to become educators, in which case they are given White Fedoras. White fedoras arent exclusive to black bands though; there are plenty purple band white fedoras. In fact most educators are purple band white fedoras.

-Perry's Black Band Event was Eve's death

-At the time of Eve's death, she had already been married to Lawrence. Ferb was barely a year old, maybe 10 months old?

-Lawrence was told it was a car accident: drunk driver. Truthfully it was a mission gone wrong, involving an underground child trafficking ring, and she stayed behind to give them all the chance to escape. She didn't have the chance to escape when security explosives around the building detonated, and she got caught in the crossfire. Perry had to leave her behind.

-This is why Perry refused to get a partner btw, aka his Lone Wolf tendencies come from.

-In the aftermath, OWCA agents approached the family to give them their condolences, and offer to take Ferb into the fold. For the first time since Eve's death, Perry practically lost it. He didn't hurt anyone, he's much too professional, but he knew Eve didn't want Ferb to get wrapped up in OWCA, and for good fucking reason. Due to their training, neither he nor Eve had much of a childhood, and he refused to subject Ferb to the same kind of life experience.

OWCA was NOT happy. Things were tetchy for a while, at least until Perry was approached by Major Monogram. Francis had a wife, and a son, and he understood where Perry was coming from. He suggested taking a permanent residence in Danville, which was his branch division. It was more stability than Perry ever had working in England, where he and Eve was originally stationed, and it was easy enough to come up with a work-related story to convince Lawrence, who was more than ready enough to leave the house where he and Eve originally lived.

-It was after moving did Lawrence meet and fall in love with Linda.

Edit; I've decided to change Ferb's bio mom's name bc I found something that fits better to me :) She's Eve now

End Backstory.

[paperclipps7]

You probably already have your own ideas of how the Easter Toons would play out in the Dead End AU (or at least outlines) but I've been imagining Eggson as Boxten's one-sided 'rival'. Boxten would call them rivals, anyway, but really their energy is more of Boxten and his old man Eggson.

Boxten's trying to make some sort of doohickey, a solenoid hand-crank generator or whatever, and it's just not working. No matter what he does it just doesn't work, until Eggson walks in and it starts producing electricity. Every time one of his gadgets breaks or glitches or whatever, Eggson just humphs, hits it with his cane, and it's magically fixed. Boxten is trying to understand it but no matter how hard he tries he just can't replicate the feat and it's very frustrating but very needed so he just hangs around Eggson whenever a project isn't going right so the machine spirit is appeased or whatever.

Meanwhile Eggson is just happily telling stories to his adopted son while he works on another one of his very useful projects, more than pleased to have someone who sticks around and listens to him for longer than a few shallow minutes.

I do really like the idea, but I feel like it could only really apply to pre-split, as The Wanderers and New Gardenview are not on very good terms (also New Gardenview isnt particularly advanced in tech, so he wouldnt have much to do after Boxten leaves).

This is also a good time for me to talk about it, but Ive been really struggling with how to incorperate Eggson into The Dead End. Currently the oldest toon (at least in my headcanons) in The Dead End is Rodger, and hes only about mid-late 30's, with most of the others falling in a similar age range or lower. Eggson on the other hand provides the problem of being just an actual senior citizen. Dude is old and realistically would be the closest thing to dead weight a group could have. In a world of survival and beasts in the dark, sure, the old and wise may know a lot but theres not much help they can provide.

I have 2 ideas, but one is kind of mediocre, and the second basically designates him to backstory character.

The first idea is bringing him into The Dead End, and acting as a sort of camp keeper for New Gardenview, keeping things in check while others are gone. The only issue with that is Teagan already never leaves camp, and Dandy rarely leaves either, which would render Eggson's role a bit obsolete.

The second basically reduces him to the same role as Pebble and Coal, a toon left behind that someone in The Dead End is desperately trying to return to. I think it would be a similar situation to Warly from Dont Starve, where someone (Id say probably Bassie, Rodger, or Boxten, as all could view him as a sort of father figure or positive influence) was taking care of him (not to the same extent as Warly and his mother in Dont Starve, as Eggson is clearly still pretty capable, but he is old so its safer for him to have someone there).

I really like the second idea more than the first, but I also feel bad about it. Pebble and Coal were left out because they are pets who have no reason getting pulled into The Dead End. There isnt any reason for them to be brought in and they wouldnt serve much purpose other than just being dogs. Eggson though is just a straight up person though, it would make sense for him to be taken, and yet he just wouldnt really do anything in The Dead End.

I dont know, if anyone has any ideas it would be nice, but as of now Im leaning towards him being a backstory character like Pebble and Coal. The other 3 Easter toons I have a fairly strong idea on what to do with them. Bassie in New Gardenview with maybe one death serving as a florist trying to help Dandy where she can. Cocoa as a sort of wandering assistant with many deaths, just trying to help anyone with anything. And Flyte in The Wanderers, trying to keep his little sister from risking her life again. Its just Eggson thats really giving me trouble.

[babyjakes]

if this was a movie.

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summary | your nerdy best friend is gonna make you a star.

pairing | nerd!best friend!jake jensen x reader

warnings | jakey is lowkey a perv but that's exactly how we love him. best friend!jakey except he's so down bad for reader. reader is nervous/inexperienced. filming/making porn. fingering (both holes >:^)). heavy clit focus, my beloved <3. clit slapping. squirting. praise and humiliation. so many petnames (it's jakey, duh.) me again picking a taylor title bc i have no impulse control.

word count | 1,165

an | hehe well :^) i've been thinking about nerdy bestie jakey for a while and i just thought i'd write a little something for him, i've been thinking a LOT about pornstar/director au's lately and this felt like a cute little way to enter the genre. hope you guys enjoy, please help me spread my love for jakey by reblogging!!! <3

"A-Are you sure about this, Jakey?" you ask, wide-eyed as you lean back carefully against your best friend's second-hand leather sofa. In front of you, the blonde-haired boy fiddles with his camera, trying to get the angle of the tripod just right.

Jake looks up at you through the round frames of his glasses, giving you a confident smile. "'Course I am, sweetcheeks," he promises as he finally finds a shot he likes. "Remember all those filming classes I took in high school? Looks like they're finally gonna pay off," he chuckles.

"I-I just, I don't know," you admit shyly as your friend hits record, a small red light shining to the side of the camera's wide lens. "Will people even wanna watch this sort of thing?"

Jake furrows his brow as he crouches down in front of you on the floor, reaching out a hand to rub your knee as you hug your legs up to your chest nervously. "Of course they will, cutie. You're gonna be a hit, just wait and see. Guys online will go crazy over a sweet little thing like you." He gently places a large hand over each of your knees, easing them to either side of the couch to give the camera a full view of your sheer lace panties. "These are so pretty, honey," Jake murmurs as he carefully runs a few fingers over your clothed pussy, causing heat to rise up in your cheeks as you let out a soft whimper. "Don't be nervous, sweetie. Try to forget the camera's even there, yeah? S'just you and me, I got you."

You turn your head to the side, too embarrassed to watch as your best friend continues petting you lightly over the thin strip of fabric covering your most sensitive places. "Mmm," you can hear the smile in Jake's voice as he notes, "you're already getting wet, sweetheart. Look so sweet like this, doing so good for me." He focuses a single finger to rub against the small damp patch in the center of your panties. "Right there," he sighs happily as he takes his time teasing you. "What do you say, pretty girl? Should we give your adoring audience a closer look?"

His hands come up to hook under the waistline of the undies as he gently eases them off of you. Your legs instinctually close again, but he's quick to open you back up for the camera, spreading you nice and wide as your cheeks only burn more with humiliation and uncertainty. "There," Jake coos, giving the viewers the exact shot he knows they've been waiting for. "There she is, oh my," he chuckles as he drags a finger through your leaking folds, stringing out your arousal for you and everyone watching to see. "Look at how excited you are, baby. Here, why don't we just-" his voice lulls a bit as he uses both of his large hands to spread your dripping cunt further open, his mouth practically watering at the sight. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "You've been keeping this all to yourself? What a shame, s'the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen."

Your muscles twitch as the man keeps you suspended in anticipation, just lightly manipulating your flesh this way and that to give the camera an array of angles and views, with all of you spread out so helplessly, of course. "Wanna make sure they can see everything, sweetie," he explains in a soothing manner as he pulls back the hood around your hardened bundle of nerves, giving the exposed head a quick few swipes with his finger. You gasp, jerking at the sudden burning pleasure. "Mhmm, just as I thought," the blonde observes aloud. "Already so sensitive, aren't you, cutie? You're very swollen down here, guess I'm not surprised."

Jake brings the pads of two of his digits down to begin circling over your drenched hole. "Easy, sweet thing. M'gonna stretch you open now, okay? Wanna let your fans see how tight this little baby pussy is." You let out a fluttering sigh as he coaxes his fingers into you. "That's it," he encourages you, "fuck, so fucking tight, pretty girl." He takes a moment with his fingers fully inserted, spreading them apart to let your viewers see your poor little hole being stretched as far as it can manage.

Once he's satisfied with the spectacle he's given, he begins working his fingers in and out of you, his pace gradually increasing as your legs fall further apart while you hum and moan softly to yourself. "Good, that's my good girl," he smiles as he surprises you by spitting down on your puckered asshole, earning a gasp from you as your knees tremble.

He begins teasing the entrance to your virgin bottom with the pad of his thumb, biting his tongue in concentration as you begin falling apart beneath his touch. "J-Jakey," you groan softly in humiliation, "please, I- oh!" Your protests are cut off by a strained whine escaping your lips, his thick digit having forced its way past the tight outer ring of your poor rosebud. "Jakey, Jakey," you whimper, your eyes rolling back on their own as your head falls to the side, the pressure in your tummy becoming more and more urgent.

"C'mon, cutie. Keep making those pretty sounds for me. You gonna be a good girl and cum for the camera?" All you can manage in response is a string of incoherent whimpers and whines. Jake chuckles almost cruelly at the pathetic state he's brought you to. "I'll take that as a yes. Almost there, baby. Here, let's help you out a little, huh?"

His free hand finds your clit, tugging back on the surrounding skin to expose the poor bundle of nerves as he again swipes mercilessly at it, reducing you nearly to tears as an unbearable tightness forms in your gut. "Please, please!" you pant, your hands scrambling to grip at the couch beneath you as you hurtle to the edge of your climax, well past the point of no return.

"Come on, sweetheart. Give us a big one," Jake cheers as you cry out in euphoria, your body convulsing violently as your orgasm tears through you. "That's it, that's my girl," Jake beams proudly as he rips his fingers out of you, smacking his drenched digits down against your poor exposed button to force you to squirt. Across your entire body, your skin is ablaze. Your high feels like it lasts for entire minutes before finally beginning to cease, tiny shocks and tingles shooting through your limbs as you float down, struggling to catch your breath.

Through half-closed lids, you can barely look out at the blonde-haired boy kneeling before you. He smiles gently, easing his fingers out of you as you let out a final set of jumbled whimpers. "That's my girl," he says again, reaching up to cup your cheek softly. "I just knew it. My girl's gonna be a star."

[moetxt]

super epic mista backstory theory

originally written in: feb 12, 2019 (outdated google docs link)

felt encouraged to publish this after learning that mista is now araki’s favorite character! and i have been a mista best character advocate since day fucking 1 of the vento aureo anime announcement!!!

Have you ever wondered about how, in Mista’s backstory, he lives in this really nice, really big house and always eats nice food? And yet we’re led to believe he spends his days doing shit like mugging people who hate Clint Eastwood? Because boy have I got a theory for you.

And that theory is: Mista’s an orphan.

This theory came about due to me thinking WAAAYYY too deeply about the literal *crumbs* we get in terms of extra details regarding Mista's life, e.g.:

his canon living conditions before Passione (strangely nice)

the fact that he apparently just thugged around all day (mugging people who hate Clint Eastwood) before joining Bruno’s gang

the fact that he is canonically the “guy who hotwires cars” among our guys (as shown in Babyface)

the fact that, when Mista got arrested (in his backstory), he had NO family to bail him out or even visit him

and, finally, the fact there is no mention of other family or friends any time afterwards

Also, it’s really hard to miss how—throughout the entire manga—he treats Narancia, Fugo, Giorno, etc. like younger peers, in a way. He has this attitude that makes him seem as if he’s used to rowdiness and being around lots of people; i.e., he seems like the kind of person who grew up in a large house. Too large. Too many adults AND too many kids, all with their own bullshit complexes.

Okay so. Orphan Mista. I've been (over)thinking about this for years and it all just seems to fit.

First of all, an orphanage would explain the nice, BIG house we see in his backstory (which is the same in both the anime and manga), and the fact that he’s apparently well off enough to spend his days sleeping in late and being in appreciation of nice food, a roof over his head, and generally pleasant surroundings.

It fits his behavior that he isn’t rich at all, but not totally impoverished either (else he’d be more motivated to rise up by that fact).

I reckon the orphanage is also run by nuns, considering the bit in his character page about him “believing in god on a fundamental level,” his obsession with luck, and commitment to staying on fate’s good side.

His fatalism is reminiscent of a vaguely/culturally Christian upbringing—because while he's not all that religious, he still believes in some sort of higher power + a central force outside of his control. So, this speaks of his upbringing as being not so strictly religious, but more of having been around a bunch of people who ARE and being influenced by them BUT, crucially, without being forced into the same lifestyle.

This theory also explains strangely well the fact that, out of the members of Bruno’s gang, Mista is actually the only one who can be classified as a genuine thug through and through.

See, if he was an orphan, he should’ve gone to a public school up to high school along with others in his age group, and then been expected to find a job in preparation for leaving the orphanage once he turned 18 years old or something.

(And yes, I DO think he went to school—because if not, he would’ve been in the same boat as Narancia and I doubt it wouldn’t be brought up by Fugo OR Leone’s judgey asses. He can count, spell, read, think critically, and enjoy any type of art for any of the senses. He’s street smart! No need for any more excessive book learnin’!)

Anyway, the thing is, Mista’s a super carefree person, who only really cares about the simple things and isn’t the type to dream big or over-complicate his life. He knows exactly what he wants, his preferred food + fashion + tools + creature comforts.

AND he manages the Sex Pistols like people, earning their respect and cooperation through trust and treats.

AND he treats the youngest most neglected/abused/confused members of Bruno’s squad (Giorno & Trish) with absolute devotion and respect.

Never breaks boundaries or abuses or exploits. When he was in Trish’s body, he kept perfect focus on the mission without even a moment to spare messing/playing with the unfamiliar anatomy (made even more apparent by Trish’s choice of outfit then).

Meanwhile, Giorno trusts him wholly and IMPLICITLY, despite them only knowing each other for a few days, because not even once has Mista even tried to take advantage of him in any way. He just pulls all the triggers Giorno cannot—regardless of whether that hurts him personally... AND he complains but ENDURES Gold Experience’s excruciating healing. No pulling back and no shoving Giorno away no matter how much pain he’s in.

That is downright RELIGIOUS levels of devotion and faith and trust. That is love, in its own way. Not sexual, or romantic, or platonic, or any combination thereof. It’s just love. Capital L Love, which cannot be snuffed out by any capital punishments or stigmas or taboos.

Anyway. Back to the theory.

I imagine that even with the looming pressure of finding a job and securing his future post-orphanage, Mista never felt the need to stress about it because he KNOWS it’s better to just go with the flow.

He just does what he wants: beating up and mugging Clint Eastwood haters, taking inspiration from movies about trying to hotwire cars the very first time he’s confronted with the opportunity to do (and it’s in service to saving HIS gang), and occasionally screwing up his antics and getting beat up or spending the night in jail (but it’s cool because he’ll only bounce back and do the same shit again the next day).

And then, we have Mista’s absolute lack of family to be concerned for him when he gets arrested or any time afterwards. Building up on what I said earlier, if he grew up in an orphanage, it’s very likely he’ll just be kicked out once he turned 18. So, when he got arrested for his “3 counts of murder” at 17, they just left him to his own devices a bit early.

The authorities or guardians or other supposed adults in his life previously did not actually care about him, when it came down to it. Didn’t even seem to notice his absence + becoming a literal professional criminal.

Evidence of this: nothing holds him back from joining Passione at all. It’s like, there’s no hope whatsoever of anyone helping him appeal his 30-year prison sentence and taking Polpo’s test is his only lifeline. Also, in all his time in the gang, he seems like he has nothing else going on at all in his life other than being a gangster. He just *is* THE professional marksman under Capo Bruno of Passione—no one else, nothing else.

He goes along with Bruno’s every order, doesn’t even hesitate to join Bruno when he turns traitor (even laughs about it to Giorno like it’s such an easy and obvious choice, and even though he probably actually grasps the severity of the situation, he’s SO sure and SO committed to his choice that he can joke about it to try and lighten the mood for everyone else), and readily accepts his new position in Giorno’s inner circle upon him becoming the new Don of Passione.

The second-in-command. The most honored and most trusted. The only one the new Don knows would never betray him—because he has proven it already. In seven fucking days.

Someone with a family wouldn’t be THIS carefree about risking his life, much less be so singularly attentive + dedicated to his role in the gang. So, it REALLY irks me that a normal family seems to overwhelmingly be how fic writers and fan-artists depict him—because it makes so little sense, and it’s lazy.

A normal, loving family wouldn’t leave him to rot by himself in jail. A problematic home life, on the other hand, doesn’t add up with Mista’s core personality (simple-minded and carefree); neglectful or abusive parenting leaves scars and leads to troubled youth. Mista has neither of those as far as we’re shown.

Everyone else in Bruno’s gang has a specific motivation that ties them to the gang (Bruno with what happened to his dad, Fugo with his being indebted to the gang, Narancia with his sense of trust after being abandoned multiple times in his life, Abbacchio with his loyalty to Bruno, and finally Giorno with his dream to get rid of drugs). Meanwhile, Mista’s just kind of… there because he pretty much has nothing else to do, and he’s found his calling in shooting things anyway, so why not?

I’ve read the manga multiple times and there’s really no mention of Mista having any family or anything that could hold him back from what he does in Passione. I often see/hear Mista be described as the guy who acts most like a traditional gangster among Bruno’s gang, and I agree wholeheartedly with that!

Moreso, I raise: this is the kind of behavior/mentality of someone who’s always been fending for himself and 100% accepts it.

So no, he wouldn’t “groom” Giorno or Trish or anyone else. He has proven it by being Giorno’s most trusted AND being in Trish’s body and keeping perfect focus on his mission.

He’s their friend. A very special friend, who pulls the triggers they can’t, who must leave sometimes, but he always knows what’s happening. He watches. He protects. And, he kills—so Giorno and Trish and Fugo won’t have to, anymore. Won’t have to suffer and die like Bruno and Leone and Narancia and La Squadra and even Diavolo.

He is the regulator of fate itself. He is Fairness. Blind Justice. Angel with a Shotgun. Whatever.

Bye!

[nipuni]

Time for an old school blog post, Hello!

Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊

Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.

Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.

This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!

Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!

On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.

Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!

We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.

Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂

OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!

Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!

Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!

[doubleddenden]

Onto gen 7- an underrated cast of characters and gen imo. I feel like people just hate on this because of lack of gyms and more text- even though the island challenge is the best breath of fresh air we've had in years. The story is really good and the characters have so much depth- they walked so the SV cast could run and the SwSh cast could trip, cry, and pee a little

Let's start with Elio, our boy for Sun and Moon. Vanilla wise he is about as generic as you can get, looking pretty much any little boy on vacation, minus the pants- I have literally never seen pants like that in my life. They look like they'd fall down a lot. He's so generic, but thankfully there's a pretty decent character customization option- a little less than xy in some regards, but you CAN remove the hat, so that's a plus.

The sun and moon/ultra protags are confirmed to look about 11- I've seen some funny people get creative with Wicke and say "actually miss I'm in college," which is pretty fitting for the time period of release for the majority of players. This a simple callback to RBY, but I will say it's kinda sad that they took that little ambiguity away and makes it a bit harder to project yourself onto the character. Not impossible, mind you, but you gotta try a little harder vs XY or BW, especially with regular Elio here. 6/10, barely tries.

Meanwhile, his Ultra variant gets a massive improvement all around. You're still said to be around 11, but the right art can make him seem older

Like this INCREDIBLE piece done to show off Ultra Megalopolis. Elio looks anywhere between early to late teens here.

But enough about that- the in game customization doesn't see too many additions, but enough to be different. Vanilla wise, Elio looks so much more unique and fun to play as on his own. The pants and tights definitely look a bit like Nate's (and also are one of a kind last i remember, unfortunately), but Nate is a terrible design, so it's fine. The bucket hat i didn't initially get, but now that I'm older and losing hair, I've been wearing one myself, and I think it is pretty neat now. This actually looks a bit how I'd dress in the summer, and I think that's pretty great all around. 9/10 design, massive improvement on vanilla

Chicken-Chan, or Selene as people call her these days- which I think is bad right after Serena- is a hit or miss depending on your audience. I'll say, minus the hat, this design is similar to Hilda in that this is an outfit I've seen women wear often in the summer around where I grew up. The baggy shirt is really comfy looking, covers a lot while allowing a nice breeze to keep you cool. The bag- as it turns out- is supposed to be a watermelon slice, changed to avoid racial stereotyping when selected as someone with darker skin. That's kind of sad, I mean I get why, but it would have been a fun thing to have in an ideal world. As it is, it's fine. The colors definitely feel more inspired compared to Elio, very tropical and summery, looking even more like a tourist on vacation.

The design definitely reads as younger than the last few FemCs, and this is sort of the point where Game Freak really starts making the girls especially look younger and younger each gen (except Akari of course). That's not necessarily bad on its own and for those not online or aware of the skeevier side of the internet, just leads to some unfortunate "art" that gets shown everywhere that maybe wouldn't have been nearly as creepy if they left them as ambiguously aged blank slates like usual.

Weird rant aside, I think Selene is a fine enough design, and in my Moon playthrough, I had plenty of outfits to choose from- definitely more of a defined binary compared to XY, imo, but still plenty to work with. 8/10, cute, but I hate the hat

Selene's ultra variant imo is just another improvement, ditching that awful chicken hat and taking a nice sun hat instead. This is definitely something I can see worn on vacation, and the colors of a mostly orange and white just look so good- makes me think of a refreshing glass of fruit juice. The braids are also really cute, and the sandals are more or less what I think Shauna should've had instead. It's such peak tourist, I love it. 9/10, cutie, love the hat

Of course, we got Hau now, the first standalone friendly "chooses the weaker starter" rival that kind of... becomes another pattern. Actually, a lot of Gen 7 becomes a pattern for future games, including hoodlum teams with a white collar real bad guy using science for their own selfish goals, bigger pokemon than average, angrier pokemon than average, the rivals having a chip on their shoulder or being in someone's shadow, etc etc etc. That's another rant on its own.

Hau is fine, not really my favorite rival, but I do think he tries harder than people give him credit for. In SM, I especially like that he kind of has an unrequited crush on Lillie, and that drove him to be a little braver and do a couple of bigger things beyond his pay grade- it's weirdly relatable, especially the heartbreak when she leaves. Otherwise he's a chill dude, kind of unrealistic in how happy he always is, but honestly he's a peak buddy I could see myself being friends with as a kid. He's strong- maybe not scary like Blue or Silver, but you do need to actually lock in for a few fights if you aren't overleveled. Not my favorite rival, like 7 on that front, but as a friend? That's an 8.

As a design, I think it's a good one. Definitely not threatening, super safe and chill looking, even when serious. I guess that's why some people dislike him as a rival, along with his pretty laid-back and cheery personality, but as a buddy, he looks pretty zen. I'd definitely wear his fit, it's so comfy looking and perfect for the summer, minus the not-crocs. I think I'd just make those black or brown sandals instead. Colors are a nice and warm tropical feel, definitely someone who enjoys the sunlight and radiates joy like it, too. The hair, I think, should just be black, but that's not really a crime to have green hair that dark- in fact it's so minor, I forget often that it's that color. Idk man, I don't get the hate. 9/10 buddy design- as a rival, sure, maybe that's a 6 on design, but a 9 on design alone. I'd definitely want a rival that looks like they would stab me, though.

HEY, a rival that looks like he could stab me! Gladion is a very complex and edgy looking character at first glance... and second when he starts doing chuuni shit mid battle... and third when he tells you to get out of his hotel room and fourth when- you get it. But, underneath all of that, he's a guy that clearly wants to do good- he looks like he'd stab you, but a lot of the Pokemon he has on his team- both in game and anime- rely on friendship to evolve. Lucario, Crobat, especially his Silvally. You could even argue his Porygon Z is a mark of his character- not super integral to his team until the title bout, but it is the only pokemon that needs to be traded TWICE to evolve, which alone says that he's a trusting and trustworthy individual. To top it off, in the Ultra games, he even gets a (ugh) Kanto starter, which would imply that Prof Oak maybe met him and gave him one, and we know Oak is a decent judge of character.

The complexity doesn't stop there- he's mean and intimidating as a defense mechanism, out of necessity after stealing Type: Null from horrific experiments and running away from the Aether Foundation. In fact, the anime, Masters, and Ultra games really do their damn best to try and make you forget that Gladion and his sister are survivors of child abuse. Gladion especially struggles a bit with the thought that he abandoned his little sister. He knows his mother is crazy and dangerous, and yet he goes in guns blazing to rescue Nebby abd Lillie, and also is more than willing to lead the Aether Foundation in Lusamine's absence. He doesn't smile often, but it feels like a reward, knowing all the pain he's gone through for the sake of something bigger than himself.

His design even exemplifies that- the tears in his clothes are supposedly from Type: Null going out of controll and attacking him once, which he's clearly developed some sewinh skills to make look part of the vibe, as if on purpose to push others away and make people worry less about him. As a character and design, I'd give it a 9/10.

As a rival, I feel like we battle just enough to get there right at the end, but I will say that I think he should have appeared and battled more often. 7/10 on that front, because he's less of a rival and more like someone testing us constantly- which being fair, I see why.

I know what you're thinking. "Lillie isn't a rival! What's she doing here?" Well, I think any fan of gen 7 will tell you that she is just as integral to the story as you are, and thus I'd say that makes her a secondary Main Character alongside you. Plus, it'd feel weird not to include her, she's the fries to the bacon cheeseburger of the rest of the cast, and arguably the soul of the story.

Her character arc is definitely more impressive in SM than Ultra- a fellow survivor of abuse that actually wears a symbol of it: her first outfit is heavily based on Nihilego, who we know Lusamine has a very unhealthy obsession with. She's less like a little girl and more like a doll made to dress a part she didn't want. Still, her bravery is off the charts- stealing Nebby without a single other Pokemon to help her is very, very brave, especially considering she was in the heart of enemy territory.

It isn't really until she's brave enough to stand up to her own mother that she finally decides to try something new. "Z POWER" Lilly looks so much more confident and sure of herself. She's still in white with hues of baby blue, but that's her choice, and sort of paints her as a protagonist that's a blank canvas- her future finally being her own to decide. She has no Pokemon (other than Nebby and later a Clefairy), but she's still brave enough to jump into ultra space to try and rescue her mother AND tell her off. She didn't have to forgive her for anything, but she does acknowledge that her mother was under the poisonous influences of Nihilego and opts to travel and find a way to save her. Her decision to go to (ugh) Kanto on her own is such a massive step for her, and her maturity to leave Nebby in our care is something that actually made me cry the first go around.

...then ultra sm kinda... undid a lot of that, lol. Lusamine isn't regretful for a single thing she did, but gets to continue like nothing happened. It makes some sense as to why Lillie decides to just keep living with Kukui lol.

Anyways, her design is part of her story, and her story is very deep and engaging. 9/10.

Next up... oh God it's Galar again