#something good (1898)

[limeshade]

In 2017, American film researchers recovered “Something Good – Negro Kiss,” a short film depicting a playful kiss between a Black couple which had not seen the light of day for more than a century. A long-forgotten artifact from the earliest years of American film, the sweet, humanizing vignette, produced by the Selig Polyscope Company, makes a startling contrast to the overwhelmingly racist and blackface-ridden contempory portrayals of African Americans. Four years later in 2021, archivists in Norway, halfway across the world, identified a sister short in their collections—an extended alternate cut which reveals more of Chicago stage performers Gertie Brown and Saint Suttle’s vaudeville-like routine, a theatrical, hot-and-cold romantic dynamic between two lovers which parodies the popular and controversial short “The Kiss” (1896). Both films, which had previously been lost, were known from entries in old motion picture catalogs but had been assumed to be era-typical, anti-Black “race films” until their rediscovery in the 21st century. Together with its more famous sibling, which has since been inducted into the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry, this alternate version of “Something Good” represents the first-known instance of Black intimacy ever captured on-screen.

SOMETHING GOOD [Alternate Version] (1898) Directed by William Selig

[babyrel]

Something Good (alternative version), dir. William Selig (1898)

[donothing-nothingworks]

[schlobba]

⋆.ೃ࿔* :･ lasso.ᐟ ft. erwin smith

( 🗒️: love erwin smsmsm )

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 synopsis゛ remorsefully, your fiancé makes up for trying your patience. reassuring you he has no intention of dodging the responsibility of marriage, in fact, he wants to practice consummation as many times as you allow.

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 ♯: fem!readr; most lowercase intended; breedingg ofc; mating press; oral (f); country life; domestic/homestead; engaged; pet names: diamond, sugar ‎ ‎ ‎ ⓘ wrd count: 3.2k

ꉂ`⟡···· “y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” “’course, diamond… how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

➜ darby, montana

( 1898 ) 12:02 pm

fall sent whipping breezes throughout the acres of land erwin had so lovingly tended, the head of his horse emerging first from the thick tree ridge. your nape greeted him in place of that sweet as syrup smile he’d grown accustomed to. a ways down the hill divided by a dirt path, carving knife warm with your sweat cutting into an apple, nectar running down your wrists while taking pieces for yourself.

the herd stayed closely knitted, expecting ewes grazing peacefully under the territorial eye of your unruly ram byström who also spared glances at the hound dog. with such dense clouds above, the shifting trees surrounding your little washboard and seating provide an unneeded shade, branches supporting a sprawling line of linen above your head.

a wooden table shaved of any splinters supported your elbows, brown eyes taken with how autumn sweeped this ranch not even days after your engagement. tutting your lips in intellection, there wouldn’t possibly be any time to plan a ceremony with erwin making preparations for winter. it was as if snow already coated the ground, seeing as you’d all but noticed hooves heartily beating against gravel.

the rusted whine of the gated entrance finally caught your attention. schulz obediently follows the statuesque blonde, yankee blue eyes digesting you. from that shirred cotton embroidered in floral design to your bare feet — he would turn his trouser pockets inside out all over again.

“one of these days you’re gonna step on something,” he shouts all proper in passing while guiding the chestnut stallion to an open pasture. always speaking chaste yet possessing the unique ability to understand your nonsense.

“not with all these leaves,” one leg over the bench already – you sat the knife aside, “we needs a rake ‘fore snowfall.” you insisted. adjusting the hem of one’s gown, pulling it above your buxom and rushing over.

carefully shutting the enclosure he turned to your nosey expression, “I’ll pick it up with my sheers.” he assured. the man’s lips couldn’t help but curl as you were now inches away from him. though his affections were promptly rejected, “what?” erwin asked.

“ya’ talks about your sheers more than anything,” eyes rolling you ignored that knit forming in his thick brows.

“come on now…” the blonde’s voice faltered in the skin of your neck, pulling away just to see if anything changed.

“spring or summer then?” you scrutinized all but those things that tempted you to drop it like his cupid’s bow.

“elaborate.” his brows fell with an air of unamusement.

even upspoken he knew you were serious. your persiflage continued, “well d’you think white would look good on me in july heat?”

“I think it’s timeless on you.” he gushed against your cheek and settled for the corners of your mouth since you kept moving.

“well then - I just wants to know why you’re so nervous.” your forearms interrupted his rough, calloused hands sliding down your waist. in that moment you glared through him, truly trusting he’d answer accordingly.

“it’s been two months.” erwin stated. “I don’t wanna rush it, diamond.”

the fleeting gaze you unknowingly gave sent aches to his chest, his adam’s apple bobbing before you parted your lips, “why not? are you not excited?”

“please.” eyes cutting to the tip of your nose and pillowy lips, he scoffed. “I want to make sure everything is right before we start a family.”

you giddily flashed your crooked teeth. “who said anything about that?”

“we’re getting married,” he knocked his forehead against yours like a bull. “you’re having my babies.” grin across his face toward the end, finally planting a kiss more becoming than the last few.

analogous to a whirling current of wind gathering you up, erwin’s hands now firmly hoisted your weight in a candid fashion. a brief glimpse of concern lit in his pendulous eyes when your breath hitched in response to such suddenness, subsequently washing over as soon as your hand began blithely unbuttoning his blouse.

your lover’s snug embrace radiated a warmth, twirling with your nerves. for the first time during this lazy october afternoon you’re finally looking like you’ve lifted a finger throughout, erwin hungrily watching these beads of anticipation fall below your collarbone.

“do you wanna start practicing?” he fondly asked, words steady despite his haste. effortlessly carrying you toward the porch of his ancestral farmhouse, authentic leather boots sounding off creaks in the steps he feverly trekked.

“what’d you call it before?” you played with the strands of hair laid thick across his chest, ahead of sitting up in his arms to kiss along his jaw as he jangled the doorknob.

“extracurriculars—” a sharp air left his nose, earning your laughter. the blonde’s support altered to where his palms now held your behind, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly as to stick along for where he’d take you.

the house smelled of sweet spices and vegetables, thoroughly flavoring the meat you had been slow cooking for hours in hopes of a tender finish. its scent wafted through the foyer and pleasantly met erwin’s nostrils, surprisingly arousing him even more.

“christ, how’d I get so lucky...” he deeply spoke into your mouth amidst the hissing breaths and smothered noises you both let out without discipline. the tent in his pants growing larger under the white gold buckle of his cowboy belt, poking at your heat needily.

the blonde didn’t care for sheets or hide blankets, he marched straight into the dining room like one of them soldiers.

“what?” you broke the sloppy kisses to watch the hallway staircase grow distant, eventually out of sight once he passed the kitchen countertops. “y’wanna eat first?”

“mhm.” erwin answered. prompting his placement of you directly on the table yet to be set, hiking your frills up above your thighs. cotton panties gated with a bow, that of which haloed over a stain of longing just for him. a finger of his pressed against your wetness absent of novelty, exploring your folds and watching as they ate up the fabric, cloth roughing up against your more sensitive flesh.

the man had since kneeled, practically breathing into such supple skin whilst pressuring more against your clothed cunt with his thumb. he often caught himself wolfing down the spit collecting in his mouth, salivating at the thought of you on his tongue. it wouldn’t be the first time he considered himself at your mercy.

“yous gone let me take ‘em off all by myself?” you queried, looking down at him with an expectant stare. your fiancé’s gaze was more occupied by your other set of lips then, but he eventually adhered and reached his hands up your spread thighs.

he slid your pretty underwear down the skin of your legs, a hand helping you wriggle the rest of the way. your body tensed when he kissed one of your feet which were damn near filthy from chasing chickens, but erwin was just as ribalding. he simply won’t admit the times his languish left him cumming to only the scent of your worn panties. as if he really needed to, his expression outwardly famished at the sight of you dripping onto the polished oak, smooching up your inner thigh whilst holding a vehement glare.

a gratuitous groan rattles from your depths, enduring the waves of pleasure ensuing as his tongue greedily laps at your juices. those rigid palms of his subconsciously found themselves hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, allowing himself to suckle at your intimacy more aggressively. your precious hums and squeezing legs encourage the blonde, his pronounced nose bumping up against your shorthairs, jaw slacked so his tongue could properly punch in and out of your twitching cunt.

erwin’s cock had been weeping between his legs, jumping at the sound of his spit bubbling against the bud of your cunnie. you didn’t think his tongue could reach any further but he soon required deeper conversation with such a talkative pussy, forcing you backward onto the sanded tabletop. his hairy forearms wrapped around your legs to urge them apart, fingers creating little indents in your thighs while his face buried itself snug between those soaking folds. the blonde loudly smacked and sucked like a bitch to a bone, licking stripes up and down your cunt interchangeably with tongue fucking you, bottom lip firmly pressed under your slit.

“that feel good?” he slobbered. your yelps and drawn out vowels were complimented by his attentive croons. he empathized with how starved your hole was for his girth, feeling it tighten around his saliva coated muscle in prayer for something shaped just like him to guzzle down.

amidst reply your chin bunched up under the downward look you gave him, reaching lower to spread yourself wider. “go up—“ you insisted breathlessly, heaving in and out while a ball of yarn unraveled inside your tummy.

spoiling you similarly to a debutante made it so erwin rarely put his needs first during sex. only when you began bucking into his face after around twenty minutes of nonstop devouring did he become the slightest impatient. still he chose to satisfy himself with your climax on his taste buds, ensuring his girl’s cunt drooled ahead of pounding it senseless. but even in this pussy-whipped daze the blonde’s cock kept him mindful. the man would never be devoid of any purpose, not when your plump pussy’s sitting all gorgeous, practically begging for his attention.

this time you didn’t have to yank his head of angel hair to shoo him in light of your overstimulation. he’d already stood on the soles of his boots, breathing through his mouth like an exasperated idiot, deftly undoing his belt to release some of the tension.

“diamond,” erwin murmured under his breath only to realize he’s called on you, “mnh, don’t eye me like that.” knitting his wild brows did he whisper. your lover boy could barely stroke his cock he was so close, and your repeatedly renewed expression of excitement at his length was incredibly rousing. “can I…?” words laced with perversion did he query, gently pushing his fat cockhead against your gushy cunt, a groan leaving him as his eyes ate away at your beautiful body.

your meek smile melted him with embarrassment, “hmph, I gots to say it?” you asked, lips forming to wince while you elevated up onto your elbows in search of a better listen.

“no, s’just—“ erwin’s voice rasped out, only when he discarded anything from his waist down and began climbing up onto the table did your face morph with curiosity. “let me lift your legs a bit.” he kindly requested, breath now clashing with yours.

your movement lasted little without his assistance, softly guiding you back to fold your legs. he was now looming over you with an ounce of uncertainty, analyzing the scrunch of your nose and wrinkle ridden strain. words of concern were promptly exchanged, initiating an adjustment beneath his large stature. now that the burning in your hamstring subsided, you had more room to experience this relatively new position, his pelvis hovering a ways above yours — sheer length of his manhood all but making up for the distance.

he grinded his stiffness in a specific motion, teasing himself with your slick while securely grasping the skin under your knees. your moans goaded him to pass the surface, heightening once a few inches actually did. in this state erwin felt he could thrust deeper than ever, sweat running down his hefty ballsack in temptation. all your devoted fiancé could think about was jerking his dick against the hugging walls beyond your entrance, desperate to fill up his barn cat of a woman.

after a few moments of torturously paced action, erwin finally honed how hard he’d let his shaft slap against the plush skin of your ass. grinding his forehead into yours while rhythmically thrusting into you, drinking up your adorable faces if he wasn’t occupied with blinking in that very second. his voice had periodically joined that of your own each time you gripped particularly tight, sucking him in a spoiled fashion each time he reared back. the plap plap plap of his dick made your brain rattle ’round, eyes half lidded and mouth wide with moans like a brothel girl. when words were coherent they implored he continued, begging like the submissive wife everyone expects of you.

the table rammed back and forth on its four legs, parallel to erwin’s ploughs that became harsher each time his cock plunged inside your saturated mess. you couldn’t recall exactly how your dress turned into a flimsy skirt around your waist, folded a dozen for erwin’s gawking. but it was his regards that centered you — his constant presence no matter how primitively he may have fucked into you. the blonde didn’t relent in his shower of love across your exposed skin, passionately kissing over your shut eyes and such when you’re much too engrossed to return said kisses. even minding his off white teeth against your breasts, pampering you delicately akin to a hand sculpted china doll. such precise movements yet the furniture beneath you still moved with exuberance, and you still frothed around him in melded bouts of ecstasy.

“feels nice, don’t it?” erwin exhaled, experiencing himself flex inside you sensitively. the heat of the kitchen spilling into the room, droplets on one’s skin illuminated by a warm rustic lighting. he wondered what you thought of him, pinning you down like that of a roman trying to win a brawl.

“god almighty…” your voice eased out between hiccups of enjoyment, “don’t stop!” you need not ask but he’d developed some liking for the nagging - the reassurance.

“gone have to wed in spring then,” the blonde happily reaffirmed his position with blue collar arms, “seeing as you’ll be a mama by tonight.” he lovingly said before weighing into you more, damn near flattening your thighs onto the table just to allow more room for his shaft to grind against your swollen bundle of nerves.

your reply was written roughly, forcing your tongue past his supple lips and somehow pulling him in closer, imagining your hands cradling his head like this under sunlight stained by fancy colored glass. neither of you let up for air — breathing between this salivating exchange in an animalistic intensity, daydreaming of one another, comfortably naive.

“you’re squeezing me so tight.” he spoke into your loose lips, watching you break away with pitiful squeals once his dick began repeatedly bullying a certain spot near your cervix. erwin relished in your expression, all gobsmacked like an innocent southern belle, only to be broken in by some rugged stud. those beady brown eyes grew wide, and he could only buck at the thought of you cumming around his girth. “what’s that sugar? can’t take no more?” he nibbled at your chin.

“mphhm—“ you hum and swore all at once, subtly nodding while a pressure built up just below the surface of your abdomen, brows knitting almost painfully.

your fiancé struck hard opposed to fast now, letting his pelvis slam against yours with every coo and comment. “y’ain’t bailing on me now, are you? not when y’got me all worked up…” he muttered, his lovely blue eyes sitting drunk on a determined expression. “…not when I got so much to give you, hm?”

it was erwin’s actions that were more demanding compared to his words, usually. but the tone he’s giving you more than beckons you let him hammer you til’ the next harvest moon. his breath hit against your face in wild pants like some dog in heat, and you more than obliged with your digits digging into his shoulders. nose brushing against yours, he continued rutting inside your squelching cunt until your voice was giving out, grasping behind your knees tighter than ever before just to keep his soon-to-be wife still for his thick ropes of cum.

“m’not, mmm’not,” you slurred incoherently. “y’just gonna get me knocked uuuup!” how cute it was to watch your lip quiver with restraint. erwin wondered if you measured your affect on him. certainly not — not when you walk around here asking to be barefoot and pregnant.

sounding like a babbling fool, your trembling legs fought the urge to lock around his defined back, toes curling so hard a knuckle or two may have popped. the blonde’s baritone voice encouraged you almost frantically, pacing his breaths in hopes you would follow said motions, thoroughly guiding your unruly reactions beneath him. all while pumping back and forth, ruts getting sloppy and short as to keep any semblance of your alluring warmth and maintain the perfect environment for his seed.

his ears perked to your groans of relief, listening as you came undone around him with an expression only he got to see. ‘twas a matter of time before your cunt made way for his gluttonously dense amounts of cum, weakly throbbing with each tense of his balls against your gaping hole, pussy lips impressively parted by his sheer mass alone. erwin intrinsically held you under the grip of his large farm-hands, placidly shuttering in response to the tranquil lull your body provided. he was no longer overladen with energy as you more than sucked every bit of it out of him, all your love could do was slowly flutter his lashes back open, witnessing your edible expression stare back into his own unexplainable countenance.

“did y’mean it?” you ask, voice labored with exhaustion and knees still surrounding your pretty lil’ head.

his grapple became lazy and slick with mixing sweat, “huh?” erwin grew perplexed at such a persistent thing like you. though accompanied by how persuasive you are, he learned to love it years ago. pet name on his tongue, he inwardly hushed himself and filled the silence with a considerate gaze.

“‘bout me being a mama ‘n stuff.” you tried to avert your eyes but not only was he still brooding over you, he followed the turn of your head so he never left your field of view, all to kiss you once more.

“a million times over—” erwin muffled into the plump skin of your cheek, marking you from your forehead to your chin with good loving. “you know that.”

“and the wedding?” another familiar question soaked with insecurity left your nectar flavored lips, those of which erwin often had to ignore just to hear you clear.

“hmph…” he freed your legs at last, sitting up but not slipping out just yet. “may. when the sun lasts longer and you won’t need sleeves.” erwin said thoughtfully. the blonde’s sentence narrated the image he envisioned, his wife amidst fields of green dawning victorian lace and warm silver.

“y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” you said cautiously. a hand of yours grazed your belly, heavy with implication and overall fatigue.

“’course, diamond…” you could hear his toothy smile before cutting your eyes to him, both his palms now encapsulating the waist they fit so perfectly around. “how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

ᯓᡣ𐭩

[owls-blog]

💟Lewd Eddie Munson Headcanons💟

!!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!!

Virgin!Eddie x Slightly Older F!Reader

word count : 1898

warnings : smutty, mention of drugs, mention of peeing, mention of F! x F! kiss, just a little bit of fluff

a/n : I haven't written any kind of fanfiction for the last 10 years. Also that's the first time I wrote something so huge in english that isn't a scientific paper. So, if somethings sounds odd to you, just let me know.

!!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!!

I warned you!

The poor boy is a virgin and has never been kissed. So, at this point he's pretty messed up.

Eddie masturbates a lot, like A LOT. Every fucking day for a few times. Don't try to convince me otherwise, cause if a guy is so much into his guitar, then his balls are aching 24/7 from the amount of semen in them.

His mind is aching too, but from the amount of naughty thoughts about you. Eddie hasn’t been able to get you out of his head since the first time you two met, when you came to his spot to buy some weed. He probably wouldn't get into you in the first place, if it wasn't for your curvy ass in those tight jeans and your braless nipples in that t-shirt. You were kinda rude to him that day. You called him "kid" and had a very annoyed look on your face.

Later that same day, as Eddie thought about the interaction between him and you, he found himself horny. And the more he thought about you, the more your tough attitude combined with your big ass made him hard. In the evening he found himself so achingly hard that he couldn’t drift off. The only choice he had was simply to jerk off to his brief memories of you. And when he did, he came so fast and so hard as he had ever came before. His cum soaked his sheets and mattress so deeply that these stains are nearly impossible to remove.

A few days later, he stumbled upon you at school. You were chatting with Ms Hatcher, the young music teacher, in the hallway. At first, he thought that you were a new student, but as he was walking past you, he overheard you and Ms Hatcher were talking about the good old times at Hawkins High School. Unexpectedly even for himself, he found the fact that you were older than him really hot. He had to lock himself in the most distant bathroom stall to calm down. He thought he just needed to catch his breath. But he couldn't concentrate on anything but the thought of you taking advantage of him. His cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans. He had to find his release and he prayed that you wouldn't be there when he left the bathroom.

He never considered himself as an ass guy before meeting you. But here he's, drooling over your hips and thighs.

Every time he sees you around town, he tries not to look at you, because as soon as he sees you, he gets hard and can't stop drilling you (or maybe your ass) with his eyes. The hardest times came when you came back to the spot again after a few weeks. You were in a much better mood and your previous rudeness actually appeared to be your boldness. He was anxious trying to hide his growing erection. So, when his eyes met yours, he felt himself very embarrassed. He thought you saw him crystal clear, and it sent shivers down his spine. Luckily for him, you were just casually chit chatting and had no idea just how horny he was for you. You noticed his Hellfire club's t-shirt and mentioned how glad you were that more kids are into D&D now compared to when you were in school. Eddie was thrilled that you were into D&D too. That's probably why the two of you somehow became weed buddies and started occasionally hanging out together.

At first, Eddie finds himself more relaxed around you. He likes how easygoing and straightforward you are. You’re fine with laughing at yourself and telling stupid jokes, like fart jokes. You tease him in jest and he adores it. You make him feel himself better. You are the real buddy, THE guy. He doesn't have to pretend around you because you're okay with the shit in his head. But every time he hangs out with you, he's more into you. And he's scared as fuck that you'll find out about it eventually.

He used to think he would never feel like that about anyone, but here he's. Eddie can't help himself, that's how much he's obsessed with you. You're not simply a hot chic anymore, you're smart, fun and beautiful, and still extremely hot.

He’s kinda getting used to being hard all the time around you.

Actually, you drive him crazy as fuck. You make him do questionable things. He knew you were classmates with Ms Hatcher because you told him. He was really curious about what you looked like when you were in high school, so he sneaked into the school library to look through the yearbooks. He spent several hours there, but damn he found photos of you. He almost choked on his saliva when he saw the photo of you in a ruffled dark dress with open shoulders, your hair was long and wavy. You looked different back then, even kinda silly, but he still found you incredibly attractive. He couldn't figure out why he hadn’t paid any attention to you when you were in high school. He tried unsuccessfully to recall any past memories of you as a student at the Hawkins school, until he stumbled upon the photo of the teenage you, the teenage Ms Hatcher and your other friend together. Then he fucking remembered. Hawkins Middle School talent show, three of you were in charge of the sound equipment and were sort of the school's sound engineers. You were the older girl with the extremely annoyed face who carelessly tossed him his guitar as she set it up for his performance. That was the same face you had the first time you came to his spot to buy weed. He also vaguely remembered that you're in some kind of band. He flipped the photo over and saw the chaotic writing "straight A funk girlz". He shamefully stole your prom photo from the library and has kept it on his nightstand ever since.

After some time, he finally noticed that you have a pierced earlobe. He asked you about it, and a just few moments later he hated himself so much for that. You told him that you'd like to get a helix in your other ear and maybe even to pierce your nipples just for fun. He almost lost it when you mentioned it. That night he masturbated a few times in a row, imagining himself sucking on your pierced nipples.

Eddies has a loud mouth. He moans a lot when he touches himself. He has to turn on his stereo to cover his whimpering and groaning as he masturbates to your prom photo.

Eddie realizes he's a goner when he decides to make a mixtape of the songs he listens to when he pleases himself and thinks of you. The mixtape contains bunch of metal and, of course, some rock and funk songs that remind him of you.

Eddie is so ashamed of himself as fuck. Every time he jerks off to you, he feels an immense amount of guilt. At that moment he heavily blushes and scolds himself for falling so hard for you.

However, the real ultimate embarrassment he experienced was during one of your pot-smoking sessions. The two of you were high as hell, and you were telling him stories about your school days. Your stoned mind brought up memories of your first kiss because you found it hilarious. You told Eddie that Ms Hatcher, whom you knew as Jessie, had stolen your first kiss, and that hers had been with your other close friend Barb, and that Barb's first kiss had been with some guy from camp she attended that summer. Eddie was so high that it took him a full minute to realize that you, Ms Hatcher, and Barb, who was indeed the third girl in the photo he saw, had shared a kiss with each other. He didn't need any further details because he immediately came in his pants.

Eddie thinks about you all the time. Whatever he's doing at the moment he's thinking about you. These thoughts are dirty, like very dirty. Sometimes he gets so caught up in these thoughts that he can't think straight at all. He has already imagined you in every possible way like ever. He has imagined fucking with you in his bed at his place, while pinning you to the wall of his room, in the front and back seat of his van, at his spot in the forest, in the abandoned warehouse where he smokes weed, in the locker room at school, on the table set up for a D&D session, under the Skull Rock, in the bathroom at the Hideout.

He imagined how you’d smell and taste, what sounds you’d make under and on top of him, or how he’d be balls deep inside of you and you’d be screaming his name, just his name.

He'd like you to be his girl, to see you on your knees choking on his thick cock, but he knows in the reality he'd rather be YOUR boy. If only he could be on his knees with his tongue between your legs.

About his van, by the way. Another time the two of you got high and decided to take a drive to Lover's Lake. You asked him to stop by because you desperately needed to take a piss. Barely out of the van, you started taking your pants off halfway to the nearest bush. The intrusive thoughts about you hit Eddie again, when you got out of the van. He daydreamed about fucking you in the front seat of the van. He really hoped you would come back and simply stick your tongue deep down into his throat.

The image of you riding him until he nearly passes out is his the most favorite one. He imagined how you slowly sinking down on him and the thickness of his cock stretching you out. Eddie is the average length, but he’s a really thick boy, so taking him isn't an easy task. He would fill you full of cum because when he comes he cums a lot. His cum would drip from your cunt down the inside of your luscious thighs.

He wants to squeeze your ass, to bite your thighs, to cover your neck with hickeys, to nibble your nipples, to whisper dirty things in your ear, to devour your lips, to thrust into you deep his balls. At the same time, he wants you to kiss him as gently as possible. Like, you cup his jaw, stroke his face with your fingers, and then your plump lips land on his own and your tongue carefully begins to explore his mouth. He wants to feel your warm embrace around him and your soothing voice telling him you love him. He wants to have you around him at night, right in his bed, just him and you cuddling together as if the world around doesn't exist at all.

But you are the coolest girl in Hawkins according to him. And he is just him, Eddie The Freak Munson.

: : : : : : : EDDIE MUNSON'S MIXTAPE : : : : : : :

[5ueckers]

pretty girls

pairing : azzi fudd x reader

warnings : smut.

notes : azzi 😍💞💓🌸💗💗🪷💖🥰💝💘🌼🌺🌺❣️💞💞💞 thats all.

words : 1898

you and azzi collapse onto the couch in the dorm, exhausted. drunk. annoyed.

tonight was a dud, to say the least. you’ve barely had any time to go out and have fun, like you should as college students, because of basketball and junior year being the absolute worst when it comes to your workload. and then, on the one night you do have off, free of practice for the next couple days and all your homework turned in, both the guys you planned on spending it with turned out to be absolute dicks.

yours had seemed nice enough, in the beginning. he’d been the one ask you out after over a week of staring you down in your shared econ class, take you, azzi, and the football player she’s been talking to out to some club in hartford, and then back to his place after a couple hours of dancing and taking shots. but just as he’d gotten you back to his dorm and out of your clothes, he’d said something so boyishly disgusting, it’d taken real reserve for you to not to slap him before pushing him off of you, re–dressing, collecting your things, and getting the hell out of there.

it’d been pure coincidence that azzi texted asking if you could meet with her as you’d stumbled out of werth tower, phone in one hand and your heels in clutched in the other. you’re not sure what happened with her and her football player— it couldn’t have been good, judging by how her makeup was running. you’d felt bad, and held her hand the whole uber ride back to the dorm, the pad of your thumb caressing the back of her hand.

“want a water?” you ask the girl, tiredly. you’re still very much inebriated and standing could result in a pretty embarrassing fall.

she nods, though, and so you decide to risk it, stumbling into the kitchen and at one point using the wall for support. you grab two bottled waters and pad back into the living room, handing one to azzi and sighing as you sit back down next to her, close. you can feel the heat from her body radiating onto you.

“that fucking sucked,” you gripe, recalling the night, earning a weak, drunken laugh from azzi.

“dudes…” she says, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her water, eliciting giggles from yourself. a single word is enough to get her point across; men fucking suck.

“ugh, and i’m still wet,” you murmur to yourself, the alcohol in your system removing any filter you’d have otherwise. you and azzi are close, so this is probably the least provocative thing you’ve said to her tonight; you both laugh at the statement. you shift uncomfortably and tug at the end of your dress. you need to get out of this chiffon and take a long, hot shower.

azzi turns to look at you, one of her curls falling out of place. she still looks so pretty, even though her makeup had gotten messy. her big brown eyes and perfect, clear skin and full lips. how could anyone fumble her and live with themselves?

“what?” she giggles at how long you’ve been looking at her.

“nothin’,” you smile back. “you’re just too pretty to be crying over some guy.”

then, azzi leans in and kisses you. she pulls back to assess your reaction, before kissing you again when you don’t look petrified or disgusted. you let her slip her tongue into your mouth this time, and surprise yourself with the little moan that comes with it, eyes fluttering closed. your back naturally arches to push up against her.

you lose track of how long you make out before azzi’s hand finds it way to your knee, resting there gingerly, “can i…?”

“like, finger me?” you ask dumbly, because fingering is definitely a step above kissing. plenty of girls that are straight and just friends kiss each other, even make out. but you and azzi are crossing into the territory of actually having sex.

seeing as you play basketball, the conversation of sexuality has obviously come up before, often. every other morning, actually, as paige feels the need to recount her sexcapades to you all. you hadn’t really thought about yours until you got to uconn, and then decided to quietly give yourself the title of unlabeled, while still just hooking up with guys because that’s all you knew. you didn’t think azzi…

“it doesn’t have to mean anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she assures you, her tone surprisingly casual, like she’s trying to convince you to try a new drink at the bar or attempt a shot you haven’t tried before at practice, not breach the basis of your close but purely platonic relationship. “we’re just having fun.”

you consider your position— on the couch, in the dorm, basically out in the open. the other girls had gone out, too, to ted’s, of course. but knowing them, with a schedule this clear, they won’t be home any time soon. and wet is an understatement; you’re practically aching down there, you need to be touched so bad. what could it possibly hurt?

“okay,” you say, finally, a smile slowly spreading over your features. azzi pecks your lips once more before sliding her hand further up your leg.

never having done this before, you’re nervous as you part your thighs, just slightly, still confined by the tight dress, but then her hand is there, warm palms caressing your skin and inching closer and closer towards your core. you gasp when her fingers finally graze the thong you’d put on, feeling a rush of wetness between your folds at the small contact.

“is this still okay?” your friend asks, voice barely above a whisper, and you nod, almost embarrassingly quickly. so she keeps going, experimentally rubbing you through your underwear and you keep gasping, bordering on whimpering with every touch.

“here,” azzi climbs off of the couch and positions herself between your knees, encourages you to push yourself forward by grabbing onto your hips and finally pushing up that dress. when she finally gets you out of your thong, carelessly tossing the garment aside, it’s less like she’s actually trying to get you off and more like curious touching, unknowingly sending you closer and closer to the edge as she spreads your lips open, drags her index finger up from your slit to your clit. “you are really wet,” she muses, pulling her hand away, bringing her thumb and index finger together just to pull them apart and watch as a thin string of your arousal connects them. you blush, suddenly embarrassed, thighs twitching. “it’s okay, just relax for me.”

she smiles up at you so sweetly, and you’re trying to, throwing your head back and closing your eyes and trying to even out your breathing, but then she’s bringing her face toward your cunt, flattening her tongue against you and licking upward, sending shockwaves up your spine, and you can’t help but squirm and whine. “open your legs a little wider, y/n… good girl,” she instructs, and your head practically feels like it’s swimming at the words, unbelievably sexy in her voice.

“a–az,” you want desperately to grasp at her hair, but know how long it took for her to style her curls, so you opt to just fist your hands into the sofa and cry out when she sucks your clit into her mouth.

the way azzi’s using her mouth so well and holding your legs open with a firm grip on your thighs makes you wonder if this is her first time with another girl, too. she doesn’t look grossed out by the taste or confused on how to make you feel good. if anything, when she drags her tongue down from your clit to your entrance, licking into you, she seems all too happy to responsible for the long, drawn out moan it elicits from you, and repeats the motion until you’re practically crying. when you feel your heart start to hammer against your chest, you know you’re not going to last much longer.

azzi removes her mouth from your pussy, but quickly replaces it with a pair of fingers, working over your clit at high speed while she presses wet kisses to your thighs. all it takes is a few more flicks of her wrist to make you cum, thighs trembling and toes curling into the carpet. she doesn’t stop playing with your clit until your moans turn into winces, signaling that you’re being overstimulated.

you feel almost delirious as azzi climbs into your lap, arms looping around your neck. it feels almost natural for you to place your hands on her waist, looking up at her like she hung the moon. “was i good?”

“i can’t feel my legs, i think,” you rasp in response, earning laughter from the girl, before she leans down to kiss you, the taste of your own cum potent on her lips and tongue.

as the kiss intensifies, you just go with the flow, letting your hands slip past the hem of the crop top azzi had worn. you push the fabric up until its bunched up at her chest, glad to find she went braless, and, tentatively, take her breasts into your hands, fondling them gently. azzi chuckles at your obvious nervousness and lack of experience, but her laughter quickly melts into soft moans as you take one into your mouth, sucking firmly— you don’t think you’ve ever heard a prettier sound. you don’t think you’re going to be able to just go without ever hearing that sound again.

releasing her nipple, you let your free hand travel down to the button on azzi’s shorts, popping it open, and pulling down the zipper with haste. despite the constricting denim, your hand still fits into the opening, past the hem of her panties. you figure it can’t be much different than getting yourself off with your own fingers, so you just go by what you’d do if you were on your own, rubbing slow circles into azzi’s clit to work her up before quickening the pace.

she buries her face into your neck, moans muffled as her hold on you tightens— you take that, and how wet she is, as a sign that you’re doing it right, and continue until you feel her physically shaking in your arms. “fuck, y/n, i’m gonna—” she cuts herself off with a high–pitched moan, and you continue to rub her clit through her orgasm until she stops grinding down against your hand. you rub her back, also, feeling that you’re actually kind of good at this. that you could get used to it.

the exhaustion from the night seems to hit you both like a brick, all of a sudden, and you both just sort of slump over in that position, limbs tangled and all.

[austrianshitposting]

My top 10 favorite signs at Vienna Pride 2024

[ID: A woman holding a sign saying "Jesus' Playlist: Only Love songs. She is wearing a purple shirt saying "another Christian for LGBTQ* Equality ]

Cute! We love seeing supportive religious folks in this house!! 7/10 🌈

[ID: A blue flag saying "Fundis zur Hölle jagen", flying in front of the Austrian Opera]

Short, sweet, good punch, keeping Pride a demonstration. 7.5/10 🌈

[ID: A woman holding a cardboard sign saying "I got 99 Problems and white hetero normative Patriarchy is all of them"]

fun reference, gets points for being political 7,5/10 🌈

[ID: A yellow shipping container, on it is a sign saying "Intersex Solidarity", next to two ads for an photography exhibition. The Exhibition is called "Inside views", the ad is showing a human body dressed in a ripcage]

It is just so funny to me I can't even really tell why. But it just feels appropriate, next to the ad and also the color of the container is very fitting. 8/10 🌈

[ID: A group of russian-speaking people demonstrating at Vienna Pride. One sign says "Proud and Loud for the Opressed in Russia, another shows Vladimir Putin in front of rainbows and writing saying "Vladimir, it's Time"]

Honestly my heart goes out to all queer people living in countries where they are still treated horribly, much worse than Austria. Love ❤️ 8/10 🌈

[ID: Where usually the movie titles being show are displayed, the Burg Kino shows a message saying "Pride without Prejudice. Hello Viella Pride 2024.]

Just a fun and sweet way to show support in a way that does not reek too much of rainbow capitalism. nice! 8.5/10 🌈

[ID: A sign saying "A day w/o Lesbians is like a day w/o sunshine"]

Cute!!!! As a lesbian, I approve ☀️ 9/10 🌈

[ID: two men holding signs saying "Hurra! Die Hurn sind da!", "In Vielfalt vereint, in tratsch entzweit" and "support your local cum dump"]

charming. fun. would get your grandma to gasp, probably. 9/10 🌈

[ID: The Group "Volksoper Wien" holding signs saying "Mama, Papa, ich muss euch was sagen: Ich liebe Operette", "Volksoper Wien: Queer seit 1898" and "125 Jahre Volksoper: man ist nie zu alt, um sich zu outen!"]

Extremely funny. Love it. Love that such a old, prestigious institution is at pride. 10/10 🌈

[ID: A sign saying "Heten Wahnsinn stoppen"]

Short, sweet, extremely funny, great reference, i love it 1000/10 🌈

Bonus:

Ace Santa :)

[entropiasgift]

Ship dynamics: Like Dionysus and Ariadne, finding love after heartache.

"Distraught, Ariadne was wandering along the shore searching for sight of her lover's ship, when she was surprised by the wine god Bacchus. He had fallen in love with her and asked her to marry him, offering her the sky as a wedding gift, in which one day she would become a constellation." (x)

1. Susan Abulhawa, Against the loveless world. // 2. Mahmoud Darwish, With the Mist So Dense on the Bridge. // 3. Ariadne (1898), by John William Waterhouse. // 4. Glennon Doyle Melton, Love Warrior. // 5. Quote by Jamie Anderson. // 6. Ariadne in Naxos (1877), by Evelyn De Morgan. // 7. ? // 8. Megan Chance, The Spiritualist. // 9. Elizabeth Bishop, The burglar of Babylon. // 10. Bacchus and Ariadne (1522–1523) by Titian. // 11. Quote by Pavana. // 12. Hozier, Francesca. // 13. Baccus et Ariadne (1750), by Carle Van Loo. // 14. Mary Oliver, Blue horses: the fourth sign of the zodiac. // 15. Leah Horlick, For Your Own Good. // 16. ? // 17. Sharon Olds, One Secret Thing: Poems; “Something Is Happening".

[faworsley]

Wait what did Robert Peary do?

Oh hi! Ok so here goes (chronological; skip the Minik tangent bracketed in green if you’d prefer, but I think it’s important). If I get something wrong or miss something let me know!!!

Robert Peary consistently faked his diary entries, lied about his travel speeds in ways that could not possibly be true, claimed pictures were taken elsewhere, and denied outside testimonies so that he could say he was the first man to reach the Pole.

In 1894 on an expedition he became the first Westerner to find the Cape York Meteorite, which was absolutely essential for tools and survival resources to the Inuit who had been harvesting fragments of it. He took it for himself back to America to be displayed in a museum, leaving them without materials for hunting and building tools.

During this same expedition he tricked 6 Inughuaq people into joining him on the return trip to America, saying that he would reward them by sending them back the next year with guns and other resources that they had come to rely on from trade with Westerners. Four of the six of them died of Western illnesses either during the journey or shortly after returning to the United States. While they lived, no arrangements were made to house them fairly, so they were kept in the basement of the American Natural History Museum, where visitors could pay a fee to visit them and shake their hands.

The six individuals he chose were the shaman Atangana and her husband Nuktaq, a renowned hunter; their daughter Aviaq and her fiancé Uisaakassak; and another renowned hunter Qisuk and his son Minik. Peary did allow Uisaakassak to return home that July, but only following the death of his fiancée. This left Minik, then 8, then only surviving Inuit left in the United States of the original group(1). [Minik tangent starts here.]

Minik’s father, Qisuk, died in 1898 of tuberculosis, which all six of them contracted. Upon his death, Minik pleaded for his body to be returned to Greenland so that he could be buried with the proper rites which could only be performed by the Inuk. However, Franz Boas, ethnologist of the American Museum of Natural History, wanted to study his body instead of allowing it to leave his custody. For this reason, Peary faked a burial for Minik before giving Qisuk’s real body over to the museum. William Wallace, the museum’s curator, disassembled his body and put it on display in the museum without informing Minik or asking his permission.

Because Minik’s family was dead and he was on his own in the United States, Wallace unofficially adopted him and raised him alongside his own son Willy. He experienced a good deal of news coverage and propaganda harassment as the public wanted to see his “cultural change from a bewildered savage.” When Minik was 11, Wallace essentially went bankrupt, and still under his care Minik struggled to survive. When he was around 16, he learned that his father’s body was still on display in the museum against his wishes, and would spend the rest of his life fighting to gain custody of his remains or have them transported back to Greenland. He died long before this was managed.

Later in life after continued illness as a result of the initial tuberculosis, as well as several suicide threats and no further success in obtaining his father’s body, Peary finally allowed Minik to go back to Greenland when it was convenient for him, without much more than what he was wearing at the time. By then Minik had forgotten Inuktun, his native language, as well as relevant survival skills he had relied on when he was younger. He stayed in Greenland and became a hunter, but was ultimately unhappy and felt he didn’t belong there either, causing him to return to America in 1916. He died during the flu epidemic two years later. [Minik tangent ends here.]

Throughout the years he spent in and around Inuk camps in the North, Peary fathered several children with a 14 year-old girl named Aleqasina whom he met there, even though his wife accompanied him on some of his expeditions.

In 1899, despite significant evidence against his claim and almost none to prove it, Peary stated that he had discovered Axel Heiberg island before the other explorer Sverdrup had. It was universally found to be false but he received awards for his mapping of Greenland anyway.

During his expedition in 1906, he became separated from other navigators and reliable members of his party by a storm on Ellesmere. It is during this period of separation when Peary, having very little reliable navigational skill of his own, and whose diary was lacking any readings leading up to the claim, says that he reached his Farthest North. This would require that he travel 72 nautical miles on foot between sleeping in one period of 24 hours, taking no detours.

In May of that year he claimed to have discovered a new Farthest North called Crocker Land from the summit of Cape Colgate. The 1914 MacMillan and Green expedition proved Crocker Land did not exist, and his own diary states that the day he claims to have discovered it he saw “no land visible”(2).

During his next expedition, in 1909 Peary separated again from the majority of his party in the North, this time intentionally isolating himself and five others. Of the six of them, the only one with sufficient navigational skill and experience to be able to confirm they were at the Pole would have been his first man Henson. Peary included several contradictory, nonsensical, and irrelevant readings in his journals where he claims to have moved beneath and around the Pole quite extensively. Henson moved on ahead separately at one point and returned to Peary stating that he had been the first man to reach the Pole. Peary spent the rest of his career trying to discredit him (3).

Dr. Frederick Cook who had previously served as a surgeon under Peary has actually reached the pole the year before, but Peary claimed to have sufficient evidence to contest this. For the entirety of Cook’s career, he was ignored and talked over, and Peary was assumed to have found the pole first. In 1988, the first in depth analysis of Peary’s own journals found them “lacking in essential data” to such a degree that his claims have since been pretty much universally rejected.

During this examination of his notes many discrepancies were found between Peary’s claims and the significant lack of realistic evidence in his journals to prove them. Additionally, his history of falsifying his own notes and lying to the press, his team, and his family make it terribly unlikely he truly found Farthest North on his own; it would not be surprising to think he stole the accomplishment from Henson, who gets far less credit than he deserves for his navigational skills and exploring at the Poles.

1. Petrone, Penny (January 1992). Northern Voices: Inuit Writing in English. University of Toronto Press.

2. Herbert, Wally (1989). The Noose of Laurels. Atheneum. pp. 206–207.

3. Peary, Robert (1986). The North Pole: Its Discovery in 1906 Under the Auspices of the Peary Arctic Club.

[deezy1478]

feel like sharing something today so here's a bit i like from the first draft of the old west au i've been working on for i think twenty years at this point 🤠

(for context: it's 1898 and dustin works in a stable in a small town off the edge of murray. he's pretty much been going through the motions for his whole adult life; got a job he doesn't care about, got a relationship that's going nowhere, just works and drinks and sleeps. then a group of traveling performers rolls in and he meets jim, and they start spending time together and dustin is suddenly like... am i enjoying life? is that what's happening to me right now?)

*

Jim was deep in his cups and singing along with the piano, though privately Dustin thought it generous to call it singing. He was making noise at least, but everyone in the saloon liked him so much that they found it charming and started joining in with what they knew, and soon Jim’s caterwauling was mostly evened out by everyone else’s. Dustin watched him flush from pale to pink to red, getting buried in various armpits as men slung their arms around his shoulders, swaying as they sang.

Every two or three songs he’d make his meandering way back over to Dustin’s table to catch his breath and try to goad him into joining in, and even when Dustin felt he was drunk enough to try he ended up saying no just to feel Jim’s hands tugging on his shirt – at his sleeves at first and then closer to his collar as the night wore on, each time lingering just a little longer.

When Jim began to fall asleep where he stood leaning against the piano Dustin figured it fell to him to bring the night to a close. He said goodbye to the handful of folks still there on both his and Jim’s behalf as he guided him toward the staircase with a firm hand on his shoulder, taking extra care that Jim’s boots cleared each step.

“Which room is yours?” he asked as they turned down the corridor lined with doors leading to the sleeping quarters.

“That one,” Jim gestured in a loose way that could have meant any one of them, “but y’know what, Dustin? Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep here. On the floor,” he went on, dropping out from under Dustin’s hand and landing heavily on his backside, and then he leaned himself against the wall and yawned like what he’d just done was fine and normal.

“Jim. You useless sack of spuds,” said Dustin. He bent over to pick Jim up under the arms but the bourbon he’d been at all night caught him unawares and he just about avoided crushing Jim underneath him on his way down, turning himself and ending up sat next to him. The cold tiled floor was unpleasant through his jeans, the wood paneling hard at his back and shoulders, but Jim was laughing and the way it shook him as he leaned against Dustin was all he found he cared for.

“I’m a good singer, right?” asked Jim, not really pausing for an answer before going on, “I think I should sing in our shows. Y’think people would pay to hear me sing?”

“They might pay to make you stop,” said Dustin.

“N’aw…” said Jim, but he didn’t sound sore about it. The two of them sat there a while, listening to the clink of glass and snatches of conversation that could still reach them from downstairs. Dustin was warm from the drink and warm from Jim slouched into his side, and the hard wall and the cold floor weren’t so bad, he thought, closing his eyes; perhaps he could…

“Nah,” he said, pushing quickly to his feet and blinking hard at the brown blotches that swam across his vision. “C’mon, Jim. Bed.”

Jim was unhelpful as could be as Dustin took his wrists and pulled him to his feet but he let himself be dragged slowly past each door, and when he paused in front of one with an air of vague recognition Dustin pushed it open and led him inside.

He went to the water jug on Jim’s dresser, picked out the cleanest glass next to it and poured him a measure. Behind him Jim managed to kick off his boots and that seemed enough to satisfy him, going to lie down on the bed in his shirt and jeans and even his --

“Take your damn belt off at least,” said Dustin, setting the water down on the bedside table. Jim groaned like a man dying, fumbling with his buckle and then giving it a yank, the leather hissing as it slid through the loops. He held it out to Dustin for his own drunken reasons. “Alright, princess,” said Dustin as he took it, rolling it up and placing it on the chair by the window. He slid Jim’s boots along the floor with his foot until they were underneath it, just in case Jim stumbled over them if he got up before he’d sobered.

“Thank you,” said Jim quietly, his voice beginning to rasp with sleep. He’d stretched himself out atop the covers and when Dustin turned back to him he smiled – a sweet, stupid, gin-soaked thing that pulled at Dustin through the bourbon, warming him further. The gas lamp above the bed was making feathery shadows of his eyelashes over his cheeks.

And no matter how he’d spread himself Jim still managed to look so small; there was so much space behind him, beside him, and wouldn’t it be nice, Dustin thought – wouldn’t it be so nice if he could just…

He felt himself sway towards the bed, catching himself with a half-step.

Dustin cleared his throat. “Any time, Jim,” he said. “Drink all of that before you go to sleep.” He nodded to the bedside table.

“I will,” said Jim, but he was closing his eyes even as Dustin watched. Before he left Dustin dimmed the lamp and folded the half of the blanket Jim wasn’t sprawled on over him as best he could, turning back only once at the door, and only for a moment.

[babyrel]

Something Good, dir. William Selig (1898)

[goodomenscalendar]

What is this? | Submit your own event or tag us! | Be sure to click through to the original post for the latest updates! Last edited: October 12th.

Ending Events

Good Omens Holiday Exchange | Prompt Claims close Oct 4th

The Good Omens Holiday Exchange has operated every holiday season since 2005, so by now it's something we consider a fandom institution-- and you could be a part of it this year! Sign-ups are closed, but you can still claim a prompt to fill for someone else! - @goexchange-mods - Claims List -

GOAD Fall Ball Kink Thrall | 18+ | Sign-ups close Oct 31st

Autumnal kink roulette split into two sections. One 'edge' event taking place over a month of writing or drawing. One 'heat' sprint style event weekly on the sub (over the posting period). Prompts sent out November 1st! - @goodomensafterdark - Reddit -

Good Omens Fairy Tale Bang | Posting continues!

This is a Good Omens Mini Bang themed entirely around Fairy Tales! Writing your own or adapting a favorite! All versions of all Fairy Tales and Mythology are welcome! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @fairytalegobang - AO3 Collection -

DIWS: Silver Screen Bang | Posting continues!

The Good Omens Silver Screen Bang brings writers and artists together to retell a movie through a Good Omens lens! AUs and fusions welcome! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @do-it-with-style-events - Twitter - AO3 Collection -

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A Good Omens bang dedicated to theatrical plays and musicals! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @gomens-theatre-bang - AO3 Collection -

Ongoing Events

Chill Omenstober | Runs all month!

A chill list of Good Omens themed October prompts filled with lots of break days. Feel free to use with any form of art! Good luck and have fun! - Prompt List -

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A month-long prompt list full of truly Ineffable kinks! This isn't a challenge, do as many or as few as you are inspired to! - Prompt List - Twitter - AO3 Collection -

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Whumptober is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like! - @whumptober - AO3 Collection -

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From the Grand Opening in 1898 to modern times, follow this Demon and his Angel on their adventures, and the routines that surely follow at a table for two for An Evening At the Ritz! All proceeds donated to The National Center for Transgender Equality. - @ineffablygrey - Twitter - Instagram - BigCartel -

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A free-to-attend Good Omens fandom meetup in the States. Just outside Philadelphia, PA. All ages welcome; under 18 must attend with guardian. Masks required in our Event spaces—help keep your fellow fans safe! - @theineffablesociety - Twitter -

Good Omens Spooky Bang | Posting begins Oct 28th

A spooky Good Omens bang to kick off the autumn season! Whether it's Aziraphale pumpkin-picking, a pumpkin spice latte coffee shop AU, or Hell hosting a Halloween bash, you're invited to the Spooky Bang! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @spooky-bang-good-omens -

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When you register for the event, you will be randomly assigned to another participant, who will not know they have been assigned to you. You will then create fanart or write a fanfiction for this person, which you will present to them as a winter gift! Join the Good Omens Reference Library Server to participate! - Info Post - Discord Server -

On The Horizon

Keep an eye out for these works-in-progress in the coming months!

Good Omens Frames | @gomensframes Good Omens Monster Bangers Bang | @gomonsterbangersbang

[amrass]

Speculative text: The Plagues, or the revenge against ex-O'Driscoll Boy!Dutch

(This is a mix between a HC, an AU and just having fun with narrative interpretation. Includes two endings).

The basic idea is that Micah and Dutch ran together as brothers in the O'Driscoll Gang in the 1880s. Maybe it was when Hosea and Bessie tried to live a normal life (and taking Arthur in like a guard dog pretending to be a pocket pooch). Alas, it did not end well.

Dutch ended up killing Colm's brother, giving Micah his chin scar and breaking Colm's nose, while losing Annabelle in the process.

In 1898, Colm sends an unrecognizable, post-twink death Micah undercover into the Van der Linde Gang, to sicken it from the inside like a prophet of plagues, while sending swarms of O'Driscolls after them. But giving them more of a reason for their recklessness than what we know in RDR2. The reason being revenge.

Continuation after the cut.

The idea is named by a song from The Prince of Egypt (one of my favorite films as a kid) and its lyrics. This HC is not only built on Micah's O'Driscoll-like scarf, but also that he is named after a prophet, and his name means "He who is like god". God, in this case, is Colm, who Micah is quite similar to in the epilogue of RDR2.

It's just endlessly funny to me if Dutch knew Micah from before but has forgotten about him (while still remembering and hating Colm). I do believe it could explain why he lets Micah into the gang so easily, subconsciously remembering the good times they shared.

Micah is bitter about Dutch not recognizing him, nor regretting betraying them. But there is fondness involved, further complicating it, like admiration and love, which are present in the actual game.

(I feel like it's easy to see this both as lost brotherhood and/or shipping re: Vanderbell or Colm/Dutch, so feel free to do that! I'll focus more about the narrative here.)

Like in RDR2, Micah leads Dutch to destruction. All for Colm, who during the meet up where Arthur gets captured, tells Dutch that he will extend his protection to Dutch's gang if he yields to Colm as his true boss. Dutch does not yield of course.

Micah tries to pick risky camping sites, pisses off the law, makes the camp feel like an unsafe place and def not a family - with a glorious purpose. If Micah feels torn and isn't actively destructive, Colm threatens to send word out and reveal his status as a rat.

Arthur gets sick, reenacting the death of the firstborn all on his own. Micah is pretty thrilled about that. "Trash taking itself out." What an ass. An asshole prophet, but still. He wants Dutch to himself.

Now things get split in two for me. One follows canon, and one turns into an AU. I'll do canon first, then my spaghetti western AU ending.

So, Colm hangs. Micah does nothing to stop it. He desperately wants to believe in something and chooses Dutch over Colm, but does so without saying anything about his involvement with the O'Driscolls. No matter what, Arthur is getting sicker. Knowing he'll never be accepted back into the O'Driscoll Gang after not stopping Dutch from killing Colm, Micah writes to Amos, but it goes badly.

After Guarma, Micah realizes they are cornered. All he cares about is Dutch surviving (and the Blackwater money that ensures further survival), and he'll give the Pinkertons the whole Van der Linde Gang as long as his only true brother gets free.

Regardless if it's in the burning remains of Beaver Hollow (my favorite ending) or the one on top of the mountain, the death of the firstborn happens by Arthur dying. Even if Dutch doesn't know Micah is an ex-O'Driscoll, he senses that Arthur was right about Micah ratting to the Pinkertons. Suddenly the broken "buddy" that Micah says at the end, to Dutch right before he leaves him, makes even more sense.

Everything plays out as it does in RDR2. Dutch goes to Mount Hagen for the same reason as John: to kill Micah. Maybe Micah confesses the truth about the O'Driscoll ordeal in the little cabin. That must be quite the moment. Micah is probably drunk as fuck to dull the humiliation. Dutch listens on in silence. But it changes nothing. Dutch wants to see Micah dead more than he does John.

Now let's do the AU ending!

In this one, Colm doesn't die, because Micah sneaks on ahead and alerts the O'Driscolls of Dutch & Arthur & Sadie coming to town.

Hiding out on top of another building, Micah sees Arthur kill the sharpshooter. He joins in on the prepared O'Driscolls to shoot at Arthur, Dutch and Sadie. Now, Micah is a good gunman, and I do believe he could tip the struggle in the O'Driscolls' favor. Maybe he shoots Sadie in the arm or leg because he knows Arthur and Dutch are - at least at this point in the story - fond enough of their fellow gang members to help her out. Dutch might linger, and squint up at the building Micah is shooting from. But he doesn't spot him.

Somehow Colm gets away. The O'Driscoll Gang has lost a lot of men, but now he can recover and have a cozy time watching Dutch make the mess he does in RDR2. Maybe he tips off law enforcement, encouraging Micah to rat there too, but in this AU a lot more people in the gang dies. Poor Arthur doesn't have a chance.

Micah goes back to Colm, who is satisfied at having everything Dutch stood for burned to the ground, but bitter about not being able to make Dutch yield. I think the three of them can't really rest until this feud is put to the rest. Whether it's at the mountain above Beaver Hollow or at Mt Hagen, years later, it will come to blows.

To play on the finale, Micah, Dutch and Colm meet for a duel like in Corbucci's The Mercenary, my favorite 3-way western duel. Each of them pointing their gun at each other, but this time Micah is the one who doesn't know whether to shoot Colm or Dutch (like how John goes back and forth between Micah and Dutch).

I'm unsure what would be the best ending. I feel like when I'm considering all the options of two of three surviving, one of those two will kill the other. Too much bad blood and bitterness. So only one of them surviving is an option, but it's still pretty bad.

Micah, losing the only men who cared for him?

Colm, putting down his "disloyal dogs"?

Dutch, always walking away?

Or they all shoot each other, dying on top of that mountain. The Pinkertons find their corpses and declare that the age of the outlaws is over. Indirectly letting John and his family survive RDR1. I actually like that option the best. Bleak but satisfactory to me.

I think I'm done here haha. I welcome response, but please remember that this is all for fun. Thank you for reading!

[archduchessofnowhere]

Archduchess Marie Valerie's journal entry on the death of her mother Empress Elisabeth of Austria, in 1898 (written on 21 September):

10 September. In the evening at 7.30 o'clock I returned with Maria from a tour of our poor… souper… then went with the three grown-ups to the chapel for evening prayer. Maria came with me, I did not pay much attention to her, did not notice her disturbed expression. I was no more devout than usual… Coming out into the corridor, while the children ran into their room, Maria asked me to come into my writing room, she had something to tell me. I was still thinking only of a small house cross, but when I looked at her, my heart stood still. “The Archduke?” “No — Her Majesty.” I don't know whether I asked further questions or whether I immediately said the word “dead”? whether she told me right there in the corridor or already in the room: “Murdered by an Italian anarchist — in the hotel in Geneva.” I don't know. My hand still trembles when I think back to that hour… Remorse for having returned her great love so badly, and above all… more and more the unspeakable pity for him, the poor, old, sorrowful and grief-stricken father, and the probably also futile question of whether it was not too much for a poor human heart? We were on our knees, Maria and I — in the room and in the chapel. Then I sent a telegram to Franz [Archduke of Austria, Valerie's husband]. And to Papa [Emperor Franz Josef I], “I'll come to you tomorrow morning at half past six.” He himself had telegraphed to Maria that she should “teach me in a good way”. I went in to see the children. Ella [Elisabeth, Valerie's eldest child] was not quite in bed yet … When I kissed and shook her, hardly knowing what I was doing, telling her softly: “She knows, that dear Grandmama has died,” she began to cry softly, as if she understood. God bless the good child! The boys were already in bed. Hedwig [Valerie's second daughter] was already asleep. From one room to the other and with Maria out into the quiet starry night. — I lay down too, but sleep was out of the question. At half past one we drove away, Maria and I … arrived in Penzing at half past six in the morning. How the morning dawned over the Vienna Woods, which she loved so much, and how unspeakable fear shook me before seeing Papa again, those are hours that one is amazed to have survived. Papa stood at the foot of the big staircase at Schönbrunn and we fell into each other's arms. That was the first time he was able to cry, he told me later. But he was still stunned then, and soon afterwards he was calm again, as he had been after Rudolf's death. We went to Sunday mass together, and then I was allowed to spend that first day with him almost without interruption, sitting next to his desk while he worked as usual, reading with him the more detailed news coming from Geneva, helping him to receive the condolence visits of the family members… Prime Minister Thun, who cried like a child — a good feeling that Papa has such servants around him. The unfortunate person who had to bring Papa the first message from Vienna to Schönbrunn was Adjutant General Count Paar with the still undetermined telegram from Irma Sztáray [Empress Elisabeth's lady-in-waiting]; “Her Majesty the Empress seriously wounded”, which was very soon followed by the second: “Her Majesty the Empress just died at 2 o'clock in the Hotel Beaurivage.” Papa seems to have immediately thought of an assassination, although he repeatedly said: “How can one assassinate a woman who has never harmed anyone?” Papa's intention to leave for Geneva immediately was thwarted by the second telegram.

(Translation by DeepL, keep in mind that in a machine translation a lot of nuances may/did got lost)

[blackfolksintime]

'SOMETHING GOOD – NEGRO KISS' is a short silent film from 1898 showing a couple kissing and holding hands. It is believed to depict the earliest on-screen kiss involving African Americans and is known for departing from the harmful stereotypical presentation of racist caricature in popular culture during the time it was made.

It's directed by William Selig and stars Saint Suttle as the man and Gertie Brown as the woman. The film was rediscovered in 2017 and was accepted into the National Film Registry the following year. It's a reference to another short film from 1896 called THE KISS, produced for Thomas Edison and featuring a white couple.

[toastnpretzels]

Connection

masterlist

Relationships: Fives x female!reader

Warnings: smut 18+ (MINORS DNI), vaginal fingering, public fingering, medic reader, slightly angsty

Word count: 1898

Summary: A night out to 79s doesn’t end the way you think it will.

Authors note: This is my first time writing a smut. I’m sorry if this isn’t good, just know I am trying. I’ve also got a few other things in my drafts. I only proofread this once, so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Also, I will be making a masterlist after I post this. Thank you for all the good feed back on the Echo imagine. It really made me continue writing. I hope you all enjoy this :)

Being friends with Fives was always easy. The conversations came easy. Fives was so outgoing. He brought out the same thing in you. You both had been friends for so long. You met the first day he had become part of the 501st. He made an attempt at flirting with one of the other medics, which had failed very badly. She walked right away from him without saying a word. As female civilian medics, you were used to it. You were around men that see very few females that aren’t their commanding officers, of course you would be hit on. You’ve been hit on more times than you can count, although you never know if it’s from the drugs from whatever injury they are facing or if they are just being themselves.

The week had been long. The 501st had not been on Coruscant in a very long time. The first night was spent differently for everyone, some going to see secret significant others, others going to celebrate, and some just sleeping. For you and Fives, it was going to 79s with many of his other brothers. You loved going out with everyone, but it was becoming increasingly hard with Fives. Of course, you would start catching feelings for one of your closest friends. You tried so hard not to, but it was bound to happen. Between his flirty personality and his overall genuine care for you, there was no way you wouldn’t start feeling something. But every time, Fives would leave with someone else. You knew he wasn’t hurting you on purpose, but it still stung every time. The way he would dance with a new girl every night, the way he would kiss them in the corner where he thought no one would see, it all hurt you. But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know how you felt.

Tonight was different. Fives hadn’t left the booth where you and the rest of the 501st were sitting. Jesse and Kix had already both left with someone, leaving you with Tup and Dogma still sitting with you and Fives, but eventually they left to find someone as well. You expected this night to go the same as always, with some girl grinding on Fives and you leaving before you had to witness anymore. But Fives stayed.

“Why aren’t you going out there?”

“Why aren’t you out there? I don’t think I’ve seen you go home with a single person anytime we’ve came here,” Fives says while taking a sip of his drink. How did he even notice that? You never thought he would notice when you leave, being too busy wrapped around whatever girl he wanted for the night.

“It’s not really my type of thing to hook up with people. I prefer having a connection. Makes the experience so much better,” you said, trying to hide that the real reason was because you wanted to leave with him.

“What makes it better?”

He looks right at you with this stupid smirk on his face. Maker, he looked good tonight. You swallowed the rest of your drink before answering.

“Have you ever had sex with a someone you had feelings for? I don’t know how to explain it but it just feels so much better than with someone that you just met. Even if its not someone you love, just having a connection makes it better. Like having feelings for someone and being able to show it in a physical way,” you say. It sounds stupid in your head, but it’s the only explanation you can give without letting your emotions come spilling out.

“And what if I said I had feelings for you?”

You look up at him. He’s staring at you with the same stupid smirk from before. He must be joking.

“Please don’t say something like that if you are just trying to get a quick release from me,” you say quietly while looking away. You feel like you are going to cry. Why would he do something like this?

“Mesh’la please look at me. I would never treat you that way. I’ve had feelings for you the entire time. I know I have a horrible way of showing it, but that’s why I’m telling you now. Ever since the first day when you laughed at my horrible attempted at getting someone else’s attention. I knew I had picked the wrong person to flirt with from the very start.”

Fives moves his hand to cup your face. He looks at you with so much love in his eyes. You can’t believe you ever even thought that he would use you. This is your Fives, the one that cares so much about the people he loves, the one that would never hurt someone intentionally.

“Why did you wait so long to say something?”

He looks down and laughs a little. Even now his laugh is still cute.

“I couldn’t ruin the friendship we had. I’ve never had a friend like you. You mean the world to me. I just couldn’t keep going on acting like I didn’t feel something for you, like I hadn’t been wishing that every girl I’ve been with was you,” he says while looking back at you. He wipes the single tear that had escaped your eye.

“I have feelings for you too. I didn’t realize until it was too late. If I would’ve known you felt the same way, I would’ve said something.”

Fives smiles and leans in, letting his lips feel yours for the first time. Heat starts to rise throughout your body. Fives starts trailing his hands along your sides, settling them on your hips for the time being. You let your fingers slide through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging a little. At this, he slips his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of his tongue gliding over yours is starting to become not enough. You can feel how your body aches for him. The kiss feels more heated, more hungry, every second.

Fives pulls away from your lips and starts to kiss down your neck. You let out a small gasp as he sucks a mark onto you. Your entire body is screaming for him to take you right here, not caring if anyone else sees. You aren’t sure if it is the feeling of the drink running through your body, or just the sensation of him touching you. It seems he is feeling the same way as you as he pulls away from your neck to look in the eyes. He looks just as a mess as you are, lips swollen from the kiss.

“Would you let me finger you in this booth?”

Fives glides his hands up your thigh. You couldn’t have made a better decision by wearing a dress tonight. The feeling of his hand slowly moving up is making your entire body pulse with need. You didn’t think tonight would end with a confession, let alone something so exhilarating happening in the back corner of 79s where anyone could walk over at any moment. His fingers ghost over your panties, now soaked through at the thought of him. You nod at him.

“Please, I need you,” you sigh as his finger presses slightly on your clit.

“Maker, your soaked. All of this just for me?”

Your head is spinning just from the feeling of him softly rubbing up and down your clothed clit. Your pussy is throbbing with need, enough that you are ready to cry with how badly you need him.

“Fives, please more.”

“Shh ill take care of you. You are going to cum on my fingers, then I’m going to take you back to the barracks where I can fuck you with no one else around,” he whispers in your ear, making you whine in anticipation.

As he finishes, he grabs at the waist band of your panties and pulls them down. You shift your hips up to help him take them off. Once they are around your ankles, Fives leans down to grab them and tucks them into his pocket. He brings his hand back up to your thigh. His touches are so soft making you ache for his fingers. As you’re ready to beg, he brings his finger to your clit. The smallest touch has you gasping again.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me. We wouldn’t want anyone interrupting us would we?”

Fives presses his lips to your neck as he circles your clit. Your whole body is screaming with need as he continues to tease you. The touches are too light, too slow. It’s slowly driving you insane.

He finally brings his finger down from your clit to your entrance. You can feel yourself dripping onto his fingers already. He slips the tip of his middle finger into your entrance, the feeling making you want to scream out with just how good it feels. Your body is screaming for more as he continues to push his finger in slowly. He finally pushes it all the way in and curls it up. You whine out loud on accident. Fives stops his assault on your neck and puts his mouth over your own instead. He pulls his finger almost all the way out, just to then push it back in harder. He continues doing this, his palm rubbing against your clit every time his hand bottoms out. He keeps doing this, making you whine into his mouth with each push of his hand. You can hear the wet sounds coming from below you. He pulls his finger out slowly this time, making you whine again in protest.

“Think you can take another? I think you can,” he says as he pulls away from your lips. You nod your head, just wanting to feel more of him.

You clench around his fingers as he adds in another. It feels so good, too good for only being his fingers. He pumps them in faster and harder than before. Your head drops against his shoulder. You quietly moan and whine into his ear as his thumb comes up to circle your clit. Thank the maker for the loud music or else someone would have for sure heard you, from the small whines or the wet squelch coming from under the table. He begins kissing your neck again, nipping and leaving marks. You can feel yourself hurdling toward one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“Cum on my fingers baby. Be a good girl for me, you can do it,”

At the sound of his voice, you feel yourself hit your peak. He kisses you again to swallow your moans. It washes over you in waves. You can’t feel your legs, just the pleasure coursing through your veins from just his fingers. You’ve soaked his hand and surely the seat below you. He pulls away again and kisses your forehead. He pulls his fingers out slowly, being careful not to overstimulate you. He brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them in. You can already feel your body becoming hot with need again.

“How was that?”

He has that stupid smirk on his face again. You giggle at that. Was he really asking like he didn’t just give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had?

“Can we leave now? I would like you to keep your promises of fucking me tonight.”