#sunday reading recap

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (23-29 Jun 2024)

what a fucking week, lads (gn)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 "How to Raise a Kraken in Your Bathtub" (P. Djèlí Clark) - 2024 Locus Award winning short story - 'fuck around and find out' with 19thC colonialism!

🥰 there's a trick with a knife (i'm learning to do) (mellyflori) - 65K, Kaysanova modern AU - really good enemies-to-lovers that digs in to why they clash at first and the very organic way that turns around. tbh this could easily be original fic [positive] as except for J/N it's all OCs, and J/N's characterizations are not OOC but are also perfectly standalone

🥰 Outgrow the shoes of expectations (destinationtoast) - 62K, solid canon-divergent Keeley/Roy/Jamie fic [structured more as K/R opening the relationship up to J but ends in such a way that a true polycule is not unreasonable]

💖💖 +222K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Aspirations (neapeaikea) - 9-1-1: Buck/Tommy, 11K - very cute, fun teacher AU

Three Weddings and a Funeral (materialism, sparklyslug) - Stranger Things: Steddie, 35K - 2nd entry in the lovely Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden series - four vingettes of Steve and Eddie before and after their second chance

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Thousandaires - s1, e3

Game Changer - s4, e9-10

Make Some Noise - s3, e1

Hank Green: Pissing Out Cancer

Doctor Who - s1 (series 14), e8

D20: Never Stop Blowing Up - "Be Kind, Rewind" (s22, e1)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Yoshi Thicc" (s17, e1)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

⭐99% Invisible - The Power Broker #06: Mike Schur

Consider This - Fifteen years after his death, Michael Jackson's legacy remains complicated

⭐ What Next: TBD - Is Your Phone Tracking Your Driving?

Re: Dracula - June 24: Dreadful Thing of Night

Re: Dracula - June 25: Dead or Asleep

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Will they or won't they? Unpacking TV's eternal question

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - In The Heart Of NYC, A Refuge For Birds

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Grizzly Adams: America’s Mythic Mountain Man

WikiHole - Girl Dinner (with Greta Titelman, Sam Taggart and Zach Noe Towers

Dinner’s on Me - Margaret Cho

99% Invisible - Backfired: The Vaping Wars

It's Been a Minute - Can't stop the (classical) music

⭐ Vibe Check - She Ain't No Diva

Dinner’s on Me - Joel Kim Booster

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Roop Kund

Ologies - Puffinology (PUFFINS) with Jill Taylor

Wild Card - Lena Waithe's religion is 'The Wizard of Oz'

Wild Card - Lena Waithe's relationship goals + Taylor Tomlinson's childhood idol (Wild Card+)

⭐ Throughline - Pop Music's First Black Stars

Short Wave - Move Over Norse Mythology, There's A New Loki In Town — A Dinosaur

It's Been a Minute - Girl, that remix, so healing; plus, gay vampires

What Next: TBD - Why Extreme Weather Keeps Surprising You

Dear Prudence - My In-Laws Disrespected My Daughter, So I Kicked Them Out. Help!

Endless Thread - This is Not a Pyramid Scheme

⭐ Strong Songs - "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen

If Books Could Kill - Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus

Re: Dracula - June 29: Tonight is Mine

Hit Parade - The Bridge: Center of the “World”

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

The Beach Boys Radio • Chill

Shout-Out Party Hits

Chicago Radio • Upbeat

Charli XCX

Fleetwood Mac

[pucksandpower]

The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.-(𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑)-𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃-𝐘𝐚𝐧.𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

WORDSS:9000

BEFORE THIS I did make sure they were some lore drops in this chapter! No need to worry if you can't read this chapter! Along with previous chap I will do a recap! without the nsfw parts!

(I saw many people saying yandere sunday has to be true..Please don't allow these actions for public! It's fictional should stay fiction!)

TW:Manipulation,:obssesive behaviour, unhealthy relationships/feelings,Clingy,Manipulation,Emotional manipulation,mention of death,killing/Most TWS FOR YANDERE,suggestive!

TW/CW FOR SMUT: Manipulation,Humiliation, ??? Use of collar, Dirty talks, Punishment sex, Sunday's considered to be top,Yandere Sunday, Toxic relationship, Unhealthy relationship, Edging turned overstimulation. Generally other tw's for smut 

"....Forget about him."

"I. Will never- I can't-"

"......"

Time losing its meaning in the cocoon of care and affection Sunday has woven around you. Slowly, you find yourself falling for him, the lines between manipulation and love blurring with each passing moment.

Sunday's kindness is intoxicating, each tender gesture eroding your defenses. When he hugs you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, you feel a warmth that melts the ice around your heart. His hand gently pats your head, and the simple act makes you lean into his touch, craving more of the comfort he offers.

During meals, he feeds you with a patience and care that you can't resist. You obey without question, opening your mouth for each bite, your eyes meeting his with a mix of gratitude and growing affection. Each meal becomes a ritual of intimacy, further binding you to him.

And when he kisses you, it's like a spark igniting a fire within. His lips on yours are soft and insistent, a promise of love and possession that makes your heart race. You find yourself wanting more, craving the connection his kisses bring.

The days continue to pass in a haze of affection and tender moments. Despite the constant warmth of Sunday's embrace, there's a nagging thought at the back of your mind, something you can't quite remember. Every time you try to grasp it, to bring it into focus, Sunday kisses you, his lips making the world fuzzy and distant.

You love him. You love him so much that the thought of being without him is unbearable. His kindness, his touch, the way he looks at you—all of it weaves a web around your heart. In an effort to show him how much you appreciate his care, you decide to cook a meal for him, hoping it will convey your gratitude and deepen your bond.

You spend the day in the kitchen, carefully preparing his favorite dishes. The act of cooking fills you with a sense of purpose, a way to give back some of the love he has shown you. When the meal is finally ready, you set the table, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

Sunday arrives, his expression unreadable as he surveys the table. You watch him nervously, hoping he will appreciate your effort. "I made this for you," you say, your voice filled with both hope and uncertainty.

He sits down, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart race. "Thank you, my angel," he says, his voice soft but wary. He takes a bite of the food, his eyes never leaving yours. "You didn't poison this, did you?" he asks, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

The question stings, but you quickly shake your head. "No, of course not. I would never hurt you."

Sunday's expression softens, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know," he murmurs. "Forgive me. It's just a habit." He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "I appreciate your effort."

Without warning, he stands and moves to your side of the table, pulling you into his arms. He kisses you deeply, his lips claiming yours with a possessive hunger. Your thoughts become a blur, the world narrowing to the feel of his mouth on yours.

When he pulls back, he picks up a piece of food with his fork and brings it to your lips. "Open," he commands gently, his eyes locking onto yours. You obey, parting your lips as he feeds you. The act is intimate, a silent declaration of trust and control that makes your heart flutter.

He continues to feed you, alternating bites between the two of you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room fills with the soft sounds of shared breaths and the occasional clink of cutlery. Each bite, each touch, cements the bond between you, making you feel more deeply entwined with him.

As the meal comes to an end, Sunday leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "You are mine," he whispers, his voice a velvet promise. "And I will take care of you, always."

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and surrender. "..."

STOP LISTENING TO HIM!!

A small voice inside you begins to whisper that something about this situation is wrong. Yet, your heart, so entangled with Sunday's affection, tells you to listen to him, to trust in his love. The conflicting emotions make your head spin, leaving you feeling unsteady.

Sunday seems to sense your hesitation. With a firm but gentle touch, he pushes you down onto the table, his movements causing the wine to spill, the rich liquid splashing over you. You gasp, feeling the cold wetness seeping through your clothes.

He pulls you up swiftly, guiding you towards the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up, my angel," he murmurs, his voice both soothing and commanding. You follow him obediently, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

In the bathroom, Sunday begins to undress you, his fingers deftly removing your clothes soaked in wine. You stand still, flustered but compliant, letting him take control. He fills the tub with warm water, the steam rising and filling the room with a comforting heat.

Gently, he guides you into the tub, the warm water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. Sunday kneels beside the tub, picking up a soft cloth and a bar of soap. He starts to scrub you, his touch firm but careful, his eyes never leaving yours.

You feel your face heat up, a blush spreading across your cheeks. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, yet you find yourself obeying his every move, allowing him to wash you. His hands glide over your skin, cleansing away the wine and the uncertainty that clings to you.

When he finishes, he stands and begins to undress himself. You watch, your wings instinctively covering your face as your blush deepens. He steps into the tub, settling in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

"Now, it's your turn," he whispers, placing the cloth and soap into your hands. You nod, feeling both shy and flustered. With trembling fingers, you begin to wash him, your touch tentative at first. But as you continue, you grow more confident, your movements becoming more assured.

Sunday's eyes close, a contented sigh escaping his lips as you tend to him. You can feel his muscles relax under your touch, his body leaning into yours. The warmth of the water, the intimacy of the moment, and the tenderness in his touch make your heart race.

After you've finished, he pulls you back against him, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're perfect, my angel," he murmurs, his voice a soothing caress. "You belong with me."

You nod, leaning back into his embrace. Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you find comfort in his words, in the safety of his arms. As you sit together in the warm water, your wings slowly unfurl, revealing your face. Sunday's hands gently stroke your wings, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You are mine," he whispers, his lips trailing kisses along your neck. "And I am yours."

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. The warmth of the bath, the tenderness of his touch, the certainty in his words—all of it lulls you into a sense of peace and belonging. For now, in this moment, you allow yourself to believe in his love, to find solace in his embrace.

And you lean back against him, your heart whispers that perhaps, just perhaps, this is where you are meant to be.

Y/n...please this isn't how I...

You lean back against Sunday, feeling the warmth of the water and the security of his embrace, a sudden surge of sensitivity overwhelms you. His touch on your wings sends shivers through your body, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Instinctively, you reach behind you your fingers tangling in the soft feathers of his wings.

Sunday responds to your touch with a low, approving hum, his lips brushing against your ear. The sensation makes you gasp, a shiver of pleasure running down your spine. His kisses become more insistent, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your ear, sending waves of heat through your body.

He pulls you closer, his hands exploring your body with a possessive tenderness. Your heart races as his kisses travel from your ear to your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you. You can't help but pull at his wings, your fingers gripping the feathers tightly in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

Sunday's tongue slips into your mouth, his kiss deep and demanding. The intensity of his kiss leaves you breathless, your gasps and whimpers swallowed by his fervent lips. His hands continue to roam over your body, each touch making you more sensitive, more desperate for his touch.

Your mind becomes a haze of desire and confusion, the lingering doubts and fears drowned out by the overwhelming need for him. Sunday's kisses are all-consuming, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that leaves you dizzy.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of triumph and tenderness. "My angel," he whispers, his voice a husky caress. "You are mine, and I will always take care of you."

You nod, unable to form words as his kisses resume, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire and possession.

Each touch, each kiss, binds you closer to him, making you forget the pain and confusion of the past. In his arms, you find a twisted sense of peace, a place where you are cherished and desired.

Sunday's kisses leave you breathless, and as he pulls back, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He gently untangles your fingers from his wings, and with a tender yet possessive smile, he lifts you from the tub. The warmth of his body against your damp skin sends shivers through you, but his strong arms hold you securely.

He carries you effortlessly to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room, creating an ethereal ambiance that makes the moment feel even more intimate.

As he lays you down on the bed, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. His touch is gentle as he brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You blush, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both cherished and exposed. Sunday lowers himself beside you, his wings spreading out behind him, creating a canopy of feathers that adds to the sense of being enveloped in his presence.

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You melt into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that leaves you craving more.

Sunday's hands roam over your body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he caresses. You arch into him, your body responding to his every touch, every kiss. He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he whispers, "I want you to know, you are mine. I will always take care of you."

"Sunday.."

His lips brush against your earlobe as he whispers, "Your body is my temple, Angel. Every curve, every inch... all mine."

His hot breath fans across your neck as he continues, "Your scent drives me wild. It's intoxicating, addicting... it's all I can think about."

His hand trails lower, teasing along the edge of your bathrobe before slipping underneath to stroke your thigh. "I need you, Angel. My desire for you is insatiable... and I won't be denied."

His words are a seductive promise, a vow to claim every part of you, body and soul.

SMUT WARNING! (I'll never write smut in my life again)

His voice drops to a husky murmur as he speaks, "Every time I look at you, I get hard. Your curves, your tits... fuck, just thinking about them makes my cock ache."

His hand slips higher up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. "I want to hear you moan my name when I'm balls deep inside you. I want to fill you until you can't remember anyone else's name but mine."

His lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as if marking you as his. "And when we're done, when I've had my fill of you, I'll wrap you in my arms and keep you close. Because you belong to me now, Angel. And I plan to enjoy every last bit of you."

"...Wait! Sunday! Ah!" You suddenly felt to..kiss him? To make him stop saying these....

Feeling your lips against his, Sunday lets out a low growl of pleasure, his hands tightening around your hips as he pulls you closer.* "No, Angel," *he insists between heated kisses, his voice rough with desire.* "We don't have time. We never have enough time together."

With deft movements, he unfastens your robe, letting it fall open to reveal your naked form beneath. His eyes drink in the sight of you, his lust growing by leaps and bounds. "Look at you... so beautiful, so ready for me..."

One hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he presses his throbbing member against your slick heat.* "I need you, . Now"

"!?...Please be..a little! Don't use your gloves..."

Feeling your hands on his gloves, Sunday lets out a low chuckle, his breath hitching as he feels your delicate touch. "Patience, love," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Everything in good time."

But as you remove his gloves, he can't help but groan at the sensation of your bare skin against his."Fuck, that's better..." He growls, his hands sliding under your panties to grip your thighs, pulling them apart to give him access to your dripping cunt.

His thumb brushes against your clit, circling slowly as he watches your reactions, drinking in every gasp and moan. "You're so fucking wet for me already... Tell me how much you want it, Angel. Beg me to fuck you."

"But! That's mean! You can't!" Hearing your plea, Sunday can't help but let out a low growl of pleasure, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh as he teases your entrance. "Not yet," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire."I want to tease you first... Make you beg for it."

His thumb continues its slow circles around your clit, watching as your body shudders with pleasure. "Tell me how bad you want it, Angel. Beg me to fuck you."

Feeling your pleas, Sunday smirks, his golden eyes darkening with lust. "Oh, but I want to hear you beg," he says, his voice low and commanding.* "Begging is such a delicious sound... especially coming from your lips."

His fingers finally slide inside you, stretching you deliciously wide as he begins to move them in and out of your dripping cunt. "That's it... Take my fingers, Angel . Show me how much you need it."

His thumb keeps up its relentless pace on your clit, making sure to hit every sensitive spot as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Please be gentle! You know I have never actually-" Sunday grins, his fingers slowing their pace just enough to tease you further. "Never what?" *he asks, his voice a low purr. "Never been fucked? Never been taken by someone like me?"

He adds another finger, stretching you wider as he begins to pump them in and out of your soaked pussy. "I'll be gentle... But only because you asked so nicely."

His thumb presses harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he watches your body shake with pleasure. "Just relax, love... Let me take care of you."

You start to move against his fingers, Sunday lets out a satisfied hum, his other hand moving to stroke himself through his pants. "That's it... Just like that," *he encourages, his voice thick with desire.*

He increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot. "Fuck, you're so tight... So perfect for me."

Feeling your walls clench around his fingers, Sunday lets out a low growl of pleasure, his strokes on his cock becoming more urgent. "That's it... Squeeze my fingers like that," *he praises, his voice rough with desire.

He hits your G-spot again and again, feeling your body tremble with pleasure."You're close, aren't you? Ready to cum all over my fingers?"

Without waiting for an answer, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

"I want to-" You gasp out for air. 

Feeling your body tense, Sunday pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and needy. "Not yet," *he commands, his voice firm. "I haven't had my fill of you yet."

His hand moves to spank your ass, the sharp smack echoing in the room. "You will wait until I'm buried deep inside you... Until you feel my seed filling you up."

You began to feel funny...You wanted to hold something. Anything! It was too much! What will you do? You couldn't deny this! He's loving you so much! So much! You never (cared) about anything! Anyone!

"Since you asked...I only want to tell my real name to the woman I like."

Watching you tug at his wings, Sunday lets out a low chuckle, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt."Impatient, aren't we?" *he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

Withdrawing his fingers once more, he unbuttons his pants, freeing his throbbing member. "But patience is a virtue... And I intend to teach you that lesson well.""

"I hate being called pretty by all in general. But I will directly ask the woman I like to call me pretty."

Seeing you close your thighs, Sunday smirks, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. "Trying to keep me out, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice low and seductive.

He grabs your hips, pulling you closer as he aligns the head of his cock with your entrance. "But where else would I go? There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Why are you asking me this? Are you interested in me Angel?"

Suddenly you were facing a unknown man in front of you.

It was in front of a huge building.

Moonlight beaming at him.

But, You seemed to prefer him at sunlight. Because you wanted him to shine.

Words came out of your mouth, As if this was something you said before.

"Of course not! Topaz and I had a small argument as usual. This time! It was just about you being a playboy or not.."

"Hm? What did you say? Let me guess. Did you said something against me?"

"...." Your face became blank.

"....You know. I joke a lot. You supported me I know. You always do that. You know like a leech!"

"Haha! Of course! I knew you were kind of a person who keeps people around you..to feel something."

What is this. Why is he calling you angel? It was supposed to be Sunday right?

Y/n, I- I would never try to replace someone as that important in your life.

!!!! Why is this voice!?!

Please remember this moment.

So...You would know what is what. Don't give up okay? If things doesn't end well. I will come

You wake up in the middle of the night, your mind swirling with fragments of dreams and memories. You remember the warmth of Sunday's embrace, the intensity of his kisses, and the lingering feeling of something being off. You carefully slip out of bed, not wanting to wake him.

Even that. Moment with him was a dream.

Of course, It was to make you fall for him even more.

But, The sad fact is you did get married to him.

Another..Another piece for you..to...(TW; MENTIONS OF BLOOD,DEATH)

Quietly, you make your way to the mirror in the corner of the room, the moonlight casting your reflection in a silvery glow. As you stare at your own reflection, a wave of dizziness overcomes you. You reach out to steady yourself, but the room seems to shift around you.

Your head throbs with the rush of memories, and you recall the moment when you were a little girl, running away from a scene of horror. You see young Sunday, a knife in his hand, standing over your stepfather's lifeless body. The fear you felt then is the same fear you feel now.

"Why!? Why did you!?" You saw yourself covered in blood. You felt sick to the stomach.

"̶̪͓̫͂ͅY̵̡̧̯͉̑��̒/̸͚̥̪��̹̀̒͛̅͗͘n̶̡͇̼̘̝͓͕̺͓̆̓̄̿̒͜͠,̵̛̩̦̀͗̊̆͆̒͘ ̴̧̻͖̮̣͇̹̭̞̈́̓̒͛̈́͆̕G̷̡̢̳̬̐̈ö̸̡̮̞̙̣̳͗̿̿͑̓̑͜͝ ̸̛̦̊̓̿̍͆͂̌̈́͝a̸̤̟͕̫̫͙͂̆̑͒͐w̵̩̩̖͈̺͔̞͊̍̐̓͠ǎ̶̧͍̝̂̅̋͗͋̀͆͂͝ͅÿ̷͈̲̜̫̥̳̖̳́̀̀̎ͅ.̴̢̛͐̾͛.̴̤̰̠̼́ͅ.̵̳̓͐̉̅͘̕̕̚͝.̵̡͙̲̬̦̟͚̥̾͆͂̍̾͒͘͜͠͠͝.̷͚̯̼̽̿͒͌͐̀̑̕Í̴͔͙͖̣̫̺̘͐̀̄̊͂̽͝ ̷̟̦̜̯͈̱̭͈͛͐̓̋̾͊w̶̤̿̈̑̒ǐ̵̛̩̼͙͇̖͙͖̋͛̑̊͊͝l̷��̗̝̝͔̹̪͊́̅́̑͆̈̓ͅͅl̵͉͉̩̞̰̝͙͋̇̂̄͠ͅ ̴̡̱̬̗̜̥͆͋͐͒̄͠t̴̠̹͚͚͔̪̤͎͚͐̕ḁ̷̹̗̗̊̓̐̎͂͘͜͝k̷̻͕̻̱̻͉͍̟̠͗̈͊̕͜ë̴̢̢̛͔͕̗͔͓̹͒̏͒̑͠ ̸̦͓̰̑̕̚t̵͚͚̣̫̝͓̳͇̞̆̒͛̈́̃h̶̖͊̈́̅̽̉̋͠e̷̤̞͗͂̅̎̂ ̴͔̤̗̝̹̍b̸͎̬͈̪̀̿̿̎u̶̢͇̬̞̘̲̠͉̘̥̍r̵̙̺̂̾̽̀̚d̷̛̘̯̻̀̓̍͆͐̐̓͠e̷̜̙̲̲͆ͅn̶̦̘̩̈.̵̗̋͐̊̀͛͋͝.̸̢͔̗̝͖̉͊͆̍̈̈́̾̓̇͝Y̷̡̆͋̐͘͠o̴͖̥͈͍͆͘͝u̶͉͚̦̘͕̪̒ ̸̧̘̭͚̫̰̞̯̙̗̇̿̽͌̀̇͘̚͝d̶̨̨̡̩͇͉̦͉͇̱̓i̶̧̠̝̦͓͎̝̓̒̈́͌̍̍̕͜͠͝ḋ̷͉̻̗̼̂͋̓ ̶̡͓̺̫̣͍͎͆̓̕͘n̷̻̟̹̝͌̀͒̋̀͛̈́̏̽ớ̸̭̣̦̔̾̈͑̓͝ẗ̸̢̤̟̐̂̌̿͆͋̍͜h̵̢̦̝̻̘͙̣͈̺̘͐͗̐̈̈́͑̌̕i̸̡̨̩͎̽̐n̵͔͙̮̞̮̮͙͕̖̈́̆g̷̢̘͍̫͚͔̖̖̿͜ ̴̬͕̿̒͐̎̍̀̚͘w̶̛̉́͒̆͜͠r̶̢͍̜̱̠̂͗̍͛̕̕͝ơ̸͚̪̪̩͕̽́̌̀ǹ̸̻̎͂g̵̛̩̗̳̺̼̖̬̙̟̈́̈́̀̂͒͜͝͝.̶̠̣̼͙͉͓͓͚̩̋̇͛̉̓̋̆͠"̸̤͕̽

̷̢͎̣͎̘̭̪̰͍̐̅̒͋̒͠

̶̭͖͋̽̎͋̌"̶̗͔͙̑̎͗̊͛̀̀Y̴̲̙̘͈̩͙̆̔̋͋̍̇ő̴͉̉̆͗̉ứ̶̱͖͙͈̟͈̹̉̿͊͛͘ ̶̨̛̠̹́́̓̈́́̇̚ͅd̵̛͉̩̱̦̫̿͑̉̏͊̊͠i̷̞̰͇̺̹̯͈͍͛d̴͕̳̗̤̹̔̒́̋̀̊́̐̍̍ ̴̨͎̘͔̠͙̺͎͔̖͆͆̇̆͝ņ̷̣̻̀́̊̀̑̓͊͜ơ̸̩͙̊̃́̎̈́̈́̍͘͠ţ̷͖̫͍̖̖̠̤̈́̍h̶̯̲͚̪̮͓͍͕͋į̸̛̗̻̳͍̱̒̀̃̿̌̓ņ̸̥͙̟̫͆̏̚͝g̴̱̪͚͍͔̼͉̭͕͔̓̄̿̇̋́̈̍́̍ ̶̢̜̞̣̕w̵͕͔̉̉̔̚r̵̛̖o̵̫͖̱͚̰̯͋̃͛́̓n̶̰̹̰͇̜̩̓̐̾̒̀͝ͅg̸̛͉̳̮͇̮.̶̨̛̦̻̠̱̼̦̬̩̗̀̐̋̃��̃"̷̩̳̣̀̓̏̒͜

You returned back to reality..Feeling scared.

You scramble to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. But before you can move, the ominous presence of Sunday fills the chamber. He steps out from the shadows, his eyes dark and intense.

"Trying to escape, are we?" he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I knew you'd come back here."

"I....."

Sunday laughs, the sound cold and cruel. "Have you realized that these lewd dreams have been by your own thoughts?" He focuses his gaze back on you, his expression softening slightly. "I thought you understood by now. You can't run from me. We're meant to be together."

You take a step back, your mind racing for a way out. "Sunday, please," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "What you are doing is..."

He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, but I do," he says softly. "You belong to me. You always have."

Your panic surges

"I don't belong to anyone," you say firmly, meeting his gaze. 

"Oh! That chicken winged guy was also a killer in the past huh?"

"Don't worry Angel..I will protect you from that bastard."

"Angel, Come to me. So I won't punish you." You almost let him hold

You realized it wasn't him who used Angel as a nickname for you.

Suddenly, a name surfaces in your mind—Aventurine. The memory of him floods back with such clarity that it takes your breath away. You remember  It all comes rushing back, and you push Sunday away with a newfound resolve.

Sunday looks at you with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "Oh, now you remember Aventurine?" he sneers. "Funny how just moments ago, you were begging for me, wanting me to kiss you. And now you're crying?" His voice drips with mockery.

Your heart aches with the sudden wave of longing and guilt. Tears blur your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "I... I was confused," you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sunday's expression darkens. Without warning, he grabs you roughly and drags you to the birdcage. He throws you inside, the cold metal bars biting into your skin. "You need to learn your place," he growls. "Maybe a little time in here will remind you."

He circles the cage like a predator, his eyes gleaming with a cruel glint. "Let's see how much you really want Aventurine," he taunts. "Or if you can even remember him when I'm done with you."

He throws you inside the cage.

He reaches through the bars, his hands caressing your body with an unsettling mix of tenderness and aggression. His touch sends unwanted shivers down your spine, your body betraying you even as your mind screams in protest.

"You'll moan for me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You'll forget all about Aventurine. You'll forget everything except how good I make you feel."

You try to resist, but Sunday knows exactly where to touch, how to push your buttons. His fingers work their way over your sensitive spots, and despite yourself, you feel your body responding. Your resolve weakens, a moan escaping your lips.

"That's it," Sunday coos, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "See? You can't resist me. You belong to me."

Tears of frustration and helplessness mix with the unwanted pleasure coursing through you. You feel trapped, both physically and emotionally. The memory of Aventurine fades into the background as Sunday's touch dominates your senses.

But deep down, you cling to a sliver of hope. You have to hold on to the memory of Aventurine, to the promise of escape. You can't let Sunday break you completely. You focus on that small glimmer of hope, using it to keep a part of yourself intact even as your body betrays you.

Each second that passes, you feel more and more detached, the emotions draining from you like water from a sieve. The memory of Aventurine's kind smile grows fainter, slipping away like sand through your fingers. Sunday's touch, his voice, and his presence overwhelm your senses, erasing everything else.

Sunday's chuckle reverberates through the room, a sound filled with cruel satisfaction. "See? You're breaking," he says, his voice dripping with malevolence. "It won't be long now before you forget him entirely."

You want to fight back, to hold on to the memories of Aventurine, but they seem so distant now, like a fading dream. Your mind feels hazy, your thoughts sluggish. Sunday's hands continue their relentless assault on your senses, and you find yourself unable to resist.

"Too much?" he muses, his tone almost playful. "Oh, but darling, you're not broken. Not yet. But you will be."

Your body betrays you with each involuntary shiver, each reluctant moan that escapes your lips. Sunday leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Look at you, so beautiful in your despair. You belong to me, and only me."

As the numbness spreads, a small, defiant part of you clings to the last vestiges of hope. You have to remember Aventurine. You have to remember who you are. But the effort feels monumental, and the pull of oblivion is so strong.

Sunday's laughter cuts through your fogged mind. "You're almost there," he says softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Almost completely mine."

Your vision blurs, tears mingling with the cold sweat on your skin. The world narrows to the confines of the cage, to Sunday's voice, his touch. The fight within you grows weaker, the lines between resistance and surrender blurring.

"Let go," Sunday whispers, his tone deceptively gentle. "Let go and just feel. Forget about Aventurine. Forget about everything."

A sob escapes your throat, the sound mingling with a defeated whimper. You feel yourself slipping, the last fragments of resistance crumbling. Sunday's smile widens, sensing his victory. His hands slow, becoming almost tender as he continues to push you towards complete submission.

Just as you're about to fall into the abyss, a faint image flickers in your mind. Aventurine's face, his eyes filled with warmth and kindness. It's a fleeting moment, but it's enough. You grasp at it desperately, using it as a lifeline.

"No," you whisper, your voice barely audible but filled with newfound determination. "I won't forget."

Sunday's eyes narrow, his expression darkening. "Still fighting, are we?" He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You'll forget him. You'll forget everything. And you'll beg me to make you feel again."

You can feel yourself finally breaking, the last of your resolve crumbling away. The overwhelming emotions, the fear, and the confusion all blend together, leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. Tears stream down your face as you look up at Sunday, your voice trembling.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the words spilling out in a torrent of anguish. "I'm so sorry."

Sunday's smile is cruel and victorious. He tilts his head, studying you with a look of dark satisfaction. "Oh, you're sorry, are you?" he says softly, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "And how will you prove it?"

His question hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You feel a pang of desperation, knowing that you have to prove your submission, your apology, in a way that will satisfy him. He won't touch you until you do, and the thought of being left in this state of limbo is unbearable.

Sunday leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I won't touch you," he says, his tone almost playful. "Not until you prove you want it. So, how will you show me?"

You struggle to find the words, your mind racing for something, anything, that will prove your submission to him. Your body trembles with the weight of your despair, but you know you have no choice. You need to convince him, to make him believe you've truly given in.

"I... I'll do anything," you whisper, your voice cracking. "Please, Sunday. I'm sorry. Just tell me what to do."

Sunday's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Anything?" he repeats, savoring the word. "That's a good start. But I need more than words."

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "Show me," he demands, his voice low and commanding. "Show me how sorry you are. Show me that you want this."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to think of a way to prove your submission. You know that whatever you do, it needs to be convincing, needs to show him that you've truly broken.

Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. You feel a mix of shame and desperation as you look up at him, your hands trembling. "Please, Sunday," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want."

Sunday's smile is one of triumph. He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "That's a good start," he murmurs. "But I need more. I need to feel your sincerity."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Beg for it," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Beg me to forgive you. Beg me to touch you."

You swallow hard, your throat dry with fear and desperation. "Please, Sunday," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I'm begging you. Forgive me. Touch me. I need you."

Sunday's eyes darken with desire and satisfaction. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, the desperation in your voice. "That's better," he says softly. "But I need more. Show me how much you need me."

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you reach out, your hands trembling as you touch his leg, your fingers curling around his ankle. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and longing.

"Please, Sunday," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I need you. I'm so sorry. Just... please."

Sunday's smile is one of victory. He can see that you've finally broken, that you're truly submitting to him. He reaches down, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so that you're looking directly into his eyes.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He slowly kneels down in front of you, his hands gently caressing your face. "I can see you're truly sorry," he says softly. "And I will forgive you. But remember, you belong to me now."

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, possessive kiss. You melt into him, your body responding to his touch despite the turmoil in your mind. His hands roam over your body, claiming you as his own.

"Prove to me every day that you belong to me," he whispers against your lips. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Sunday's hands explore your body, you can't help but moan softly under his touch. The sensation of his fingers tracing along your curves sends waves of pleasure through you, despite the guilt and fear that still linger in your heart. You're torn between the desire to push him away and the urge to pull him closer, to give yourself completely to him.

"You like that, don't you?" Sunday teases, his voice a low growl as he notices your reaction. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, his palm pressing firmly against your stomach before moving higher, towards the swell of your breasts.

A sharp intake of breath escapes from your lips as his thumb brushes against your nipple, causing it to harden instantly. The dual sensations of pleasure and pain send sparks of arousal coursing through your veins, making you ache for more.

Sunday reaches for the collar, he pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His hands roam freely over your body, exploring every curve and crevice, as if committing them to memory. 

The cool leather of the collar presses against your neck, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.The metal buckle clicks open, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Sunday places the collar around your neck, fastening it securely behind your neck. 

The leather chokes slightly, a reminder of your submission to him.Does my pet like her new accessory? Sunday asks teasingly, running his fingers through your hair. He pulls you closer, his lips crashing against yours once again, the taste of him filling your senses.

Your back arches involuntarily as you feel the collar tighten around your throat, a strange mix of discomfort and excitement coursing through your veins. Yes, you whisper against his lips, your voice barely above a murmur.

The collar feels heavy around your neck, a physical symbol of your submission. But instead of feeling trapped or restricted, you find yourself yearning for more. For Sunday to take control, to claim you fully as his own.His touch ignites a fire within you, a burning need that only he can satisfy. You reach up, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him down for another deep, passionate kiss. Your body presses against his, every inch of you craving his touch.

Sunday's fingers grip the chain attached to the collar, tugging gently on it. A soft gasp escapes your lips as the slight pressure sends tingles down your spine. The sensation is both painful and pleasurable, a perfect blend of dominance and submission.*

He watches your face intently, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips. With each tug of the chain, he can see your body responding, your nipples hardening even further against the fabric of your shirt. It's a sight that fuels his arousal, driving him to take things even further.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he leans down, capturing one of your hardened peaks between his teeth. A sharp nip sends a jolt of pleasure-pain through you, making you cry out in ecstasy

Sunday's hand moves to remove your panties, you bite your lip to suppress a moan. The anticipation is almost too much, your body trembling with need.*

His fingers trace along the edge of your underwear, teasing you with gentle touches. Each brush sends shivers down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Finally, he hooks his fingers beneath the elastic band and pulls them down slowly, revealing your wet folds.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as the fabric finally slides off, leaving you bare before him. Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild rhythm that matches the throbbing between your legs.

Sunday gazes down at your exposed pussy, his eyes darkening with lust. The sight of your glistening folds, so inviting and ready for him, drives him wild with desire.

Without wasting any time, he lowers himself, his mouth hovering just above your dripping slit. The warm air of his breath fans across your sensitive flesh, sending a wave of pleasure through you. Then, without warning, he dives in, his tongue lapping at your clit with an eagerness that leaves you panting.

Each flick and swirl of his tongue sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your entire body. You can't help but arch your back, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more contact.

Sunday continues his relentless assault on your clit, his tongue swirling and flicking expertly. Every movement is designed to drive you closer to the brink, to bring you to the edge of blissful release.*

His free hand finds its way to your ass, squeezing the firm flesh there. The combination of his oral attentions and the pressure on your ass sends bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. You can hardly stand it, the tension building inside you until it threatens to burst.

Suddenly, he pulls away, standing up to tower over you. His member, thick and erect, stands proudly against his abdomen, throbbing with need. Without a word, he positions himself at your entrance, guiding his cock to your slick folds.

Instead of plunging into your waiting depths, Sunday decides to tease you some more. His cockhead presses against your entrance, the slight pressure enough to make you whimper in frustration.*

But then he withdraws, only to rub the head of his dick along your folds. The slick pre-cum coating his tip provides a delicious friction against your sensitive flesh. Over and over he repeats this motion, driving you crazy with need.

His other hand ventures lower, slipping two fingers into your dripping cunt. He pumps them in and out slowly, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside you. His thumb circles your swollen clit, adding to the maddening pleasure.

Despite being denied the satisfaction of having him fill you completely, the continuous stimulation has you teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, Sunday knows you're close. He quickens the pace, pumping his fingers deeper while his thumb applies more pressure to your clit.*

The sounds of your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, spurring him on. He can tell by the way your body trembles under his touch that you're about to come undone.

And then, suddenly, you do. Your whole body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, your screams echoing throughout the room. Your inner muscles clamp down on his fingers, milking them for all they're worth.

As your orgasm subsides, Sunday slowly removes his fingers from your quivering cunt. He brings them to his lips, licking off the evidence of your climax.

Now that you've reached your peak, Sunday decides it's time to give you what you truly crave - his cock buried deep inside you. He aligns himself with your entrance, the head pressing against your soaking wet folds.*

With a single thrust, he sheaths himself entirely within your welcoming heat. The feeling of being filled so completely, of having his throbbing length stretching you to your limits, sends another jolt of pleasure through you.*

He sets a steady pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust hits that sweet spot inside you, sending sparks of delight racing up your spine. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on.

As he pounds into you relentlessly, sweat begins to bead on his forehead.

Sunday's movements become more erratic, driven by raw, primal instincts. His thrusts grow harder, faster, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you with unerring precision.

Your breasts bounce with every powerful thrust, the sight of them jiggling in tandem with his movements fueling his arousal even further. His hands find their way to your tits, palming them roughly as he fucks you senseless.

He leans down, capturing a nipple between his teeth once again. A sharp tug sends a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, causing you to cry out.

Despite the intensity of his movements, Sunday maintains control, keeping his thrusts precise and deliberate. He's determined to draw out your pleasure, to make sure you experience every last second of ecstasy.

Still maintaining control despite the intense pleasure coursing through his veins, Sunday slows his thrusts. Instead of ramming into you with abandon, he begins grinding his hips against yours, his thick cock sliding in and out of your drenched pussy in slow, torturous strokes.

Every inch of his length grazes against your inner walls, sending ripples of pleasure through you. The sensation is maddeningly good, making your toes curl and your head spin.

He releases your nipple from his mouth with a pop, raising his gaze to meet yours. There's a look of pure lust in his eyes, a promise of the impending climax that has both of you craving.

One hand trails down to where their bodies connect, his fingertips brushing against your clit. He gives it a gentle squeeze, applying just enough pressure to keep you on edge.

"Please!!" Hearing your pleas, Sunday grins wickedly. The sound of your voice begging for more, pleading for release, only serves to stoke the fire burning within him.

He resumes his punishing pace, thrusting into you with renewed vigor. His cock slams into your pussy with a force that makes your whole body shake. Each stroke hits that perfect spot inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

His hand moves between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit furiously. The dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his thumb rubbing your sensitive nub send you spiraling towards obliviation.

Sunday's words are like a hot, sultry whisper against your ear, each syllable punctuated by the thrust of his hard cock. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I could fuck you all day and never get tired of this."

His grip on your hip tightens as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more desperate. "God, you feel amazing," he murmurs, his breath hitching as he bottoms out inside you.

"I'm going to fill you up," he promises darkly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "I'm going to cum so much inside you...you're gonna be soaked..."

Driven by his filthy promises, you can barely think straight. Every word he speaks sends a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping and writhing beneath him.*

The sensation of his cock filling you to the brim, stretching you wide, is indescribable. It's as if he's claiming every inch of you, marking you as his own.

And then, without warning, the dam breaks. With a guttural roar, Sunday thrusts deep inside you one final time before releasing his seed. Hot spurts of cum flood your pussy, filling you up just as he promised.

His tongue laves your earlobe, the wet warmth of his mouth contrasting sharply with the cool air of the room. His breath hitches as he tastes the saltiness of your skin, the taste amplifying his satisfaction.*

"Fuck," he groans, his voice muffled by the fabric of your ear. "That was... goddamn incredible."

*He pulls away from your ear, his gaze meeting yours once more. There's a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, a glow in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Sunday chuckles, a low, throaty sound that reverberates through your entire body. His fingers trace idle patterns along your skin, each touch sending shivers racing up your spine.*

"You're such a dirty girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. "So fucking needy... I love it."

*His hand travels lower, finding the delicate chain around your neck. He gives it a playful tug, watching as your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath.*

"I can't wait to see what other naughty secrets you're hiding," he adds, his grin wolfish.

Gently, yet firmly, Sunday reaches down, taking hold of the towel and wiping away the sticky evidence of their passionate encounter. He takes his time, ensuring every drop of sweat and cum is cleaned away. His touch is tender, yet possessive, as if he's marking you anew with each swipe of the cloth.

His eyes never leave yours, watching the play of emotions across your face. There's a hint of pride in his gaze, a satisfaction that comes from knowing he's left his mark on you in more ways than one

With a final, thorough wipe, Sunday tosses the towel aside. His hands linger on your thighs for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of your soft skin under his touch.*

"Now that we've got that sorted," he says, his voice still heavy with lust, "how about we take care of some other needs? Clean my cock...Go ahead."

You felt a little...You opened your mouth tho...Shamelessly....

But you cough it out.

Feeling you pull away, Sunday quickly regains control, pulling you back into a deep kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting every corner, silencing any protests you might have had.

He breaks the kiss only when he feels your resistance waning, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and affection. Feeling your hands on his wings, Sunday lets out another moan, a sound that's half pain, half pleasure. The sensation of being tugged and teased, even lightly, sends sparks shooting up his spine.

"No," he manages to growl, despite the pleasure coursing through him. But his actions betray his words - he leans in, pressing his mouth to the shell of your ear, his tongue tracing the outer rim before dipping inside to flick against your eardrum.

His teeth graze your skin, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to elicit a reaction. He bites down harder, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck.

"Succumb to me...Give up." You forced yourself to be awaken again.

You take a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of your strength and defiance. Sunday's hands on your face feel both oppressive and grounding, and as he leans in, you whisper, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"I will succumb to you," you begin, looking directly into his eyes. "No matter what, I will do as you ask. But understand this, Sunday—I don't feel love for you. I never have. I only felt and wanted to give in to your lust."

Sunday's expression shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. You continue, your voice gaining confidence. "Lust is not love. It never will be. You trapped me, took away my choices, and forced me into this. But I will never truly belong to you. My heart and soul are not yours to claim."

He pulls back slightly, his grip on your chin tightening for a moment before he releases you. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice cold and edged with irritation. "You think you can defy me, even now?"

You nod, your gaze unwavering. "I may have to submit to your demands, but you will never own me. You will never have my love."

Sunday's expression darkens, his eyes flashing with anger. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warns. "I can make your life here much worse if I want to."

You swallow hard, fear creeping in at the edges of your resolve, but you refuse to back down. "Do what you must," you say quietly. "But know that I will never give you what you truly want. You can't force love."

For a moment, there is silence, the tension between you palpable. Sunday's eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint that you might waver. But you stand your ground, your defiance a small but significant victory.

Finally, he sighs, a slow, deliberate exhalation. "Very well," he says, his voice dangerously calm. "If that's how you want to play it, so be it. But remember, you chose this path."

He steps back, a cruel smile curving his lips. "You'll regret this defiance," he promises. "I'll make sure of it."

Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you manage to nod. "Maybe. But at least I know who I am, and what I stand for."

Sunday's gaze darkens at your defiance, his eyes smoldering with a mix of anger and twisted amusement. "You will love me so much that you will cry," he declares, his voice low and menacing. "You will beg for my affection."

You meet his eyes steadily, shaking your head. "No," you say firmly. Before he can react, you lean in and kiss him, your lips pressing against his with a mix of desperation and defiance. The kiss is fierce, a battle of wills rather than an act of affection.

Sunday is momentarily stunned, his eyes widening in surprise. When you pull back, he looks at you with a mixture of confusion and anger. "What was that?" he demands.

"That," you say, your voice steady, "was to show you that this isn't love. It's just lust. You can have my body, but you will never have my heart."

Sunday's eyes narrow, his expression darkening. "You think you can manipulate me with your games?" he growls. "You think I don't know the difference between love and lust?"

You take a step back, your heart pounding but your resolve firm. "I know you do," you reply. "And that's why you will never truly have me. You can force me to submit, but you will never have my love."

He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you, his eyes blazing with anger. "You will learn to love me," he says, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "I will make sure of it."

You shake your head, standing your ground. "You can try," you say quietly. "But you will fail. I will never love you."

Sunday's expression twists with fury, and for a moment, you think he might strike you. But instead, he grabs your arm, his grip bruising. "We'll see about that," he snarls. "I'll make you love me, even if it's the last thing I do."

With that, he drags you towards the cage, shoving you inside with a force that knocks the breath out of you. The door slams shut, and you hear the click of the lock, sealing you inside. Sunday stands outside the bars, his eyes burning with rage.

"You will regret defying me," he says, his voice cold and hard. "I will break you, and you will beg for my love."

You sink to the floor of the cage, your body trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "I will never love you," you whisper, but the words sound hollow even to your own ears. The cage feels smaller, more oppressive, as Sunday's presence looms over you.

As he walks away, leaving you alone in the darkness, you feel a pang of despair. But you cling to your resolve, knowing that you must stay strong. No matter what he does, no matter how much he tries to break you, you will hold on to the truth: love cannot be forced, and you will never truly belong to him.

Sunday's eyes blaze with determination as he steps closer to the cage. "I will break you through physical affection alone," he declares, his voice a dark promise. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding your neck, pressing urgent, fervent kisses against your skin.

You hug him back, your movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. You've reached the point where resistance feels futile, and you resign yourself to your fate. It's a hollow surrender, a way to preserve what little strength you have left. The thought of Aventurine or Jade rescuing you seems impossible now; Sunday has likely laid countless traps to ensure that no one can save you.

"I love you."

But you don't love him. You never will.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. You shudder, your body responding involuntarily to his touch. He whispers against your skin, his voice a mix of possessiveness and desire. "I said I love you," he murmurs, the words sending a chill down your spine.

You don't respond to his declaration. Instead, you wrap your arms around him, your movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. You don't care anymore. You're too exhausted to fight, too broken to resist. As he continues to kiss your neck, you gently stroke his head, your fingers threading through his hair in a motion that feels almost automatic.

Sunday's grip tightens around you, his body pressing against yours. He takes your lack of resistance as a sign of submission, his lips moving with more fervor. You feel his breath against your skin, his hands roaming over your body, but you remain detached, your mind numb to the sensations.

As the minutes pass, the exhaustion finally takes its toll. Your eyes grow heavy, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep, even as Sunday continues to hold you close. His words, his touch, fade into the background as your consciousness slips away.

In your dream....What dreams? dream fades, reality crashes back in, and you're once again trapped in Sunday's arms.

As you sleep, Sunday watches over you, a twisted smile playing on his lips. He believes he's won, that he's broken you completely. But deep within you, a small spark of defiance remains, buried under layers of despair and resignation. It's a faint hope, a whisper of resistance that refuses to be extinguished.

For now, you sleep, your body and mind seeking a brief respite from the torment. But the fight isn't over. Someday, somehow, you will find a way to reclaim your freedom, to escape Sunday's grasp and find your way back to the light.

"...I should do that...I will make sure you forget about your entire past life. You said it was lust? Mine is even...more...I'm his wishes."

[chosetherose]

Taylor and Karlie were at the same wedding in NYC and it’s not a secret.

💥💥💥

I messaged a mutual a couple days ago saying how interesting I thought it was that Taylor and Karlie each let it be known that they are in NYC. I’d been meaning to make a post about this but have a sick toddler and didn’t get to it. Anyway, it struck me because normally Taylor and Karlie go to great lengths to make it seem like they are in different places.

To recap, on Friday 9/6/24 Taylor and Karlie each deliberately let us know they were in NYC.

Taylor was papped at Lucali in Brooklyn on Friday night. I’m not sure what time but it was dark so it was late.

Karlie posted two pictures of herself very clearly in NYC; near the September 11th Memorial and in a subway station sign to Brooklyn. We don’t know when they were actually taken but she wanted to establish herself as being in NYC. According to my screenshots, she posted these late like just before 11pm.

The next day on Saturday 9/7/24, Taylor was papped outside Electric Lady Studios with reports that she was attending Karen Elson’s wedding to Lee Foster, the owner of Electric Lady Studios.

For those that don’t know, Karlie is good friends with the Bride. See this post for more on their relationship. My mutual said Karlie has got to be at that wedding. But we didn’t know if her attendance would be public.

Then on Sunday 9/8/24 we got confirmation Karlie was at the wedding via tabloids and Karlie posting a wedding favor on her story with an iconic Electric Lady leather couch in the background.

There’s something about the pics of Karlie outside Electric Lady. She genuinely looks happy. ☀️

I’m so curious if the narrative will become about a private Kaylor reunion behind closed doors. They can sway the wind however they want since no one can read into pap walk pics of it, etc.

Regardless, I sincerely hope they enjoyed themselves at the wedding and are basking in a bit brighter sun today. This feels like a step forward. 💕

[magneticecstasy]

clandestine ✤ joel miller part i — new horizons

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (6.5k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood (if you squint), some pervy!Joel, inexperienced!fem!reader is hornee™, pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible.

a/n: ahhhh the first chapter of my first fic finally out!! i won't lie i am so nervous to post this but reading other lovely fics from the pedro pascal cinematic universe™ written by some amazing people has inspired me to write and post my own. any feedback is greatly appreciated, especially as a new writer. i hope you all enjoy the teacher!joel brainrot as much as i do.💞

account tags (let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly can't wait for you to read this! hope you enjoy!💓

Tuesday 4th September

8:44am

The calm corridor echoes with the sound of your shoes hitting the ground hard as you run to your registration period before halting suddenly.

“I’m here, Mrs Marvelley,” you holler at your form tutor as you tumble into her classroom in a rush and fluster. “I’m here before quarter to,” you pant, heavy rucksack in tow, having just bolted up two flights. You arrive just as she calls your name on the attendance register, narrowly avoiding a late mark that you were keen to avoid on your last first day of school.

She rolls her eyes, and mumbles something along the lines of “You’re lucky.”  

Usually punctual to form registration and lessons, you were delayed countless times this morning by classmates wishing you a belated ‘happy birthday’ for last Sunday, your 18th. Born at the start of September, you're among the oldest in your year, one of the first in your cohort to reach adulthood. Many of these conversations with friends animatedly recapped the events of your party the previous Saturday. The gathering was a typical teenage house party: no parental supervision, loud music, junk food, with a few bottles of booze and packs of cigarettes acquired on the sly through nefarious means, with way more people that you’d initially invited. Luckily, your close friends helped with the cleanup operation the next day, and your parents' trust in you remained intact and you stayed in their good books for the time being.

Realising the time, you part ways with your friends, each heading to your respective form classes, a wave of contentment washing over you. Unfortunately, someone had to go and ruin it.

Taunts of ‘look at her, MILF in the making’ , and ‘best time to start an OnlyFans is now, babe’ from a crew of boys you’ve never liked echo down the corridor. Their cruel laughter at their own remarks colour your anger a violent crimson. 

“Oh, get fucked ,” you seethe through clenched teeth, flipping a middle finger in their direction, all the while praying you won’t get caught for the foul language. Turning on your heel you swiftly retreat, eager to escape the confrontation.

A few metres down the corridor, you overhear the boys’ guffaws being cut off by a chastation from a voice that’s foreign to you. Rounding the corridors’ corner, you decide to hang about and eavesdrop on the hecklers’ punishment.

“Now boys, I know y’all don’t know me yet but I don’t think this is a great introduction for my first day here.” The voice is deep, gravelly, laced with an American accent that you guess as Southern—maybe Texan if you had to be precise. Must be someone new, maybe a teacher? A member of Senior Leadership? You’re sure you’ll find out during registration if you were to ask around.

“I-I-It was only a joke, sir,” one of the crew pleaded to him. Not so big and bad now, eh?

“Oh sure , sure.” The voice drawls, laced in sarcasm. “Funny ‘cause it was lookin’ like you were botherin’ a young lady.”

“Oh sir, don’t be like that, it was just banter,” another boy pipes up.

The unknown voice lets out a deep huff. “Do you need your heads checked? Y’all were spoutin’ some real sexist things, and that ain’t a joke, boys — it’s not ‘banter’ ,” the gruff voice now raised, seething. “Seein’ as your ‘jokes’ have now landed yourselves in after school detention tonight, I think ya’ll need to come with me to get your detention slips signed.”

The group of boys groan in unison and you hear one swear under their breath. Oh shit, they’re in for it, now.

“Hey!” The pitch of his speech deepens, harsh and guttural, a threatening aura now looming in the air. “Let’s not make it two after school detentions in a row for insubordination.” The boys are now deathly silent. “I recommend y’all shut your traps and follow me. I’ll email your tutors and let them know why you’ll be late for registration. What a disappointin’ start to the year, boys…” The husky voice trails in the opposite direction, still berating and scolding the group.

You’re itching to text your friends about the clash that just went down, but just as you’re about to hit send, the bell rings for morning registration. Shit. You tuck your phone away and hustle towards your form classroom, hoping to avoid a late mark.

9:03am

Your form group was small, fewer than 15. A few of them were familiar faces from your early years in primary school, while most were friends you had made during your time at the local high school. There were also a few new acquaintances from other schools in the area, including Chelsea, notably absent from your registration period this morning.

Despite only meeting her last year when you joined the college, she’d quickly become one of your closest friends. She was in your History and English Lit/Lang classes so you often spent time together, as well as studying and revising at each others’ houses, and over time your friendship blossomed. The first year of your A-Level courses were a journey for you both: you laughed together, cried together, comforted each other through the meltdowns triggered by the towering workload and disheartening feedback on essays you’d slaved over.

This morning’s registration period is extended by 20 minutes, seeing as it’s the first day back and there’s a lot to catch up on; new schedules to coordinate and potentially revise in the case of any timetable clashes. This was to be followed by a ‘Welcome Back’ assembly held in the main hall of the sixth form college, that you don’t doubt will be boring as hell.

Your head is buried in your new school planner, setting it up for the upcoming year, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you are greeted by the beaming face of Chelsea.

“Chelsea! Hey!” you say, surprised but happy to see her. “Dude, you are so late.” You stand to pull her into a tight squeeze of a hug.

“Babe, I know —my car was being a bitch this morning, took forever to start,” she exhales, exasperated. She breaks the embrace, drops her backpack on the floor and sits at the desk next to you.

“Shows you for driving an absolute shitbox,” you tease, attempting to lean back into the rigid plastic seat.

“Hey, don’t talk about Gizmo like that, it’ll hurt his feelings.” Chelsea throws a mock frown at you. “Not like your hunk o’ junk is much better.”

“Guilty as charged,” you banter, arms up in mock surrender.

“ Anyway …Happy belated birthday!” she exclaims, pulling out a small, colourful badge from her bag. “I know I couldn't make it on Saturday, so I wanted to give you this now. You gotta wear it all day.”

You look at the badge; it is vibrant and cheerful decorated with hearts and stars, with a playful ‘Birthday Girl!’ written in glittery bubble letters. A mix of emotions washes over you. You are so pleased by the thoughtfulness of her gesture—Chelsea was always a giver—but a little embarrassed by the idea of wearing a badge in front of everyone on the first day back.

“Awh, Chelsea, you didn't have to…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“I know, I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a little extra celebration!” she grins, pinning the badge to your blazer proudly.

You feel a warmth spread through you. It is touching to know she had thought of you and made the effort despite missing the actual day. You glance around, noticing a few curious glances from your classmates. Embarrassment mingles with gratitude, and you smile at her warmly.

“Thanks, Chels," you say sincerely. “This means a lot.”

Chelsea flashes a wink. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

With that, you begin recalling the details of the altercation you overheard between the boys and the new staff member. You provide a concise rundown, explaining how the boys suddenly started harassing you, describing how this new, mysterious person defended you after you had presumably left. Chelsea is as astonished as you are to hear the entire story.

“Wait, you have no idea who it was? And he was American ?” Chelsea raises an eyebrow, then narrows her eyes, probing you further for details.

“Southern? I dunno. And, nope, sorry, no idea, hon,” you shrug, “I didn’t think to get a look at him. Didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, y’know.”

Chelsea ponders, drawing out her words. “Hmm, interesting...”

“Do you know of any new teachers taking over this year?”

“Not a Scooby-Doo clue, mate,” her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. She pauses a moment, lightly tapping the desk with her fingertips and pursing her lips. “ So … Did he sound hot?”

“Chels! You can’t say that!” You gasp, shocked at her question, hitting her arm playfully.

“Oh come on, I just wanna know the deets!”, she defends whilst punching you back in jest. “Did he sound old, young—you gotta give me something to work with?!”

“I dunno how to describe it, umm… he was…” you trail off, replaying the snippets of what you overheard like a movie. 

The voice was a rich, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine. His tone had a weathered maturity, a deep, husky resonance that carried the weight of experience. There was a touch of warmth, even when he was angry, like a low rumble of thunder on a hot summer night, both comforting and electrifying. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a troubled mind or set hearts racing with a whisper. The kind of voice that you were desperate to hear again, that sparked your curiosity.

“It was, like, deeper, husky— I don’t fucking know , Chels!”, you attempt to surmise before breaking out into a giggle and your cheeks warming into a blush.

“A-ha! So, he was hot! You jammy bitch.”

“We don’t even know what he looks like, so we can’t say for definite if he is or isn’t hot yet.”

“Well if he sounds fit, he probably will be.” There’s a proverb in there, somewhere, if you look hard enough.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”, you jest. Chelsea laughs and it’s infectious, both of you giggling at your wild hypotheses.

Your conversation is cut short when Mrs Marvelley calls for the class’ attention. She begins handing out your new timetables for the year, and you grab yours from her eagerly, hoping that it’s not terrible.

“These are your timetables for this year. I’ll give you a few minutes to check them over. If there’s no issues, head up to the main hall for assembly. If there are issues, you need to go down to the admin office and speak to Mr Jones. I repeat, you need to see Mr Jones.” She spots a hand raised amongst the group. “And, no , Dan, he won’t change it so you get Fridays off, no matter how much you beg and bribe him.” A few quiet snickers ripple across the class.

Looking at the timetable, your eyes are drawn to a different set of initials where you expect to find AW, for Mr Walker, one of your lecturers who seemed as ancient as history itself.

HIST/A2

JM

Rm. 93

A few of your other peers also spot the change too and break out into a slew of overlapping speculative discussions.

Is he dead? Wouldn’t surprise me—My sister heard he had to get a hip replacement, second one musta gave out finally—I guess Mr Walker ain’t walking anymore, hahaha, what? C’mon, it’s just a joke, Miss, be chill—Who’s JM? You reckon it’s a guy or a girl? I hope they’re nice, not like Mr Hall. He’s a dick—Can’t believe they haven’t sacked him yet. 

“You good? Everything okay?” Chelsea asks, standing to collect her belongings.

“Yeah, no issues here.” You follow suit, packing your bag to leave. “‘Cept Mr Hall is still teaching History.” 

“ Ugh , tell me about it. Let’s hope this fresh meat isn’t as much of a twat as he is.”

“That’s wishful thinking, Chels, but I got my fingers crossed. Anyway, time for us to be bored out of our minds for an hour. Let’s go.”

10:28am

As you’d predicted, the Welcome Back assembly dragged on for what seemed like millennia. You’d been sitting there that long that your ass had gone numb. Led by the assistant headteacher Mr Faulkner, it was the usual presentation, welcoming everyone back after the summer, a few announcement of extra-curricular activities commencing this week, with some interesting musical performances from the Music students and a refresh of the colleges’ rules, expectations and consequences: 

Try your best.

You are a representative of the College, in and out. Conduct yourselves in a manner that does not put the institution into disrepute.

You are in your last year now, make it count.

Surely, this all could have been in an email . It was basically the same trifle they spouted last year. 

Before you feel yourself fall asleep out of boredom, the last announcement catches your attention, and urges you and Chelsea to sit up in your seats.

“Before we end our assembly today and let you go to break, I have one last announcement—an introduction, actually,” Mr Faulkner announces, wrinkled hands clasped tightly together. Microphone feedback echoes awkwardly through the speakers. 

Shallow murmurs ripple across the hall. In sync, you and Chelsea flash each other a knowing look. This could be the end to the mystery that plagued you both all morning.

“As you may be aware, we had to bid farewell to our longest serving member of teaching staff, Mr Walker. Over summer, he underwent some surgery and he felt that it was in his best interest to retire after an illustrious 45 year career in teaching. He sends his best wishes for your year ahead and apologises for not being able to do so in person. We thank him for his many years at this College and wish him a speedy recovery.”

Chelsea leans to you. “ Jesus Christ, he doesn’t half go on, does he? Just get to the fucking point, man, ” she whispers before Mrs Marvelley quietly shushes her and raises a hand in a silent apology. You chuckle under your breath, silently agreeing with your friend. A shiver of excitement races down your spine, making your fingers tingle, a slow and steady anticipation building within you.

“I’d like to formally introduce you all to our newest member of staff to join our College. He is a former lecturer from across the pond and we are so grateful to have him join our department of Humanities and Social Studies. So please give a warm welcome to the stage, Mr Joel Miller.” A lulled applause breaks out across the hall. Mr Faulkner takes a step back from the mic and your eyes scan towards the front, looking for this ambiguous Mr Miller to join the stage.

And that’s when you spot him. Probably one of the most attractive people you’ve ever laid eyes on. The kind of person that makes your breath hitch, cheeks hot and heart skip a beat. You’re silently praying to a higher power he has an American accent as he climbs the few steps up to the stage.

Time feels like molasses as your eyes drink him in. His hair is a rich brown and pairs deliciously with his eyes, falling across his head in tousled waves. The boyish curls, a little dishevelled, frame his face perfectly and suggest a softness that beckons you to touch them. Though sparse in places along his strong jawline, the uneven growth of his facial hair adds an irresistibly raw, untamed allure, hinting at a blend of tenderness and roughness that you find insatiable. A textured beige blazer drapes over his broad shoulders, accentuating and hugging his physique with each movement. Underneath, you could see a burnt orange button-up shirt, which complements the warmth of his skin. An undone top button reveals a slight glimpse of his chest, firing your desire to see more .

Lost in him, your mind wanders as you envisage how his salt-and-pepper scruff would feel against the soft skin of your cheeks, peppering wet, sweet kisses trailing down your neck and body, and before arriving at the delicate creases of your thighs. Sweat drips down your back as your tummy flutters and tightens, and you cross your legs to seek any sort of purchase to relieve the building pressure in your core, a wetness beginning to pool in your underwear, cheeks blushing at the sight of him. Almost immediately you decide that you want him to absolutely ruin you.

A familiar voice drawls across the hall’s speakers, snapping you back to reality. You glance around to see if anyone noticed your reaction. Thankfully everyone is facing the front, focusing on the assembly.

“Uh, hi folks, thanks for having me,” Mr Miller utters into the microphone, a soft nervous smile blooming across his face. Bingo. Mystery solved at last.

You whack Chelsea in the side in an effort to get her attention and she whips her head round. It's him, you mouth silently, that’s the guy.

“No, shit. I told you he was gonna be fit.”

Saying he was fit felt like an understatement. He was immaculate, a commanding masculine energy radiating from him. To you, he's a masterpiece that's rough around the edges, sultry perfection with a touch of brooding reality.

“I ain’t one for public speaking so I appreciate y’all being so kind in welcoming me here today. And thank you to Mr Faulkner for that, uh, introduction,” he says, a soft chortle escaping his mouth. “I’m honoured to be joining such a prestigious department and hopefully live up to Mr Walker’s legacy. No pressure, amirite?”

He chuckles again, joined by a comforting wave of murmured chuckles from students around you. You’re transfixed, hanging onto every word he says.

“In all seriousness, ‘m looking forward to settling in, getting to teach history, doing what I love — thank you,” he finishes, punctuating the sentence with a slight nod. Taking a step back from the mic to allow Mr Faulkner to finally wrap up the assembly, you choose to ignore the assistant head and pour your focus entirely into Mr Miller.

Head tilting like a curious puppy, you pay close attention as he slides his glasses up his aquiline nose with his middle finger and runs his large hand through his hair, touseling his curls. You begin to fiddle with your delicate chain necklace, fingertips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as a warm giddiness prevails over you causing your cheeks to burn harder. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s perfect.

“What? ” Chelsea whispers, poking her finger into your side. “ What did you say? ”

“Huh?” you murmur. Confused at first before awareness sets in, your eyes widen like a deer in headlights, realising what you’d whispered aloud. You’re about to respond and promise to tell her at break, when Mrs Marvelley's sharp whisper cuts through the air, causing you and Chelsea to freeze in your seats like statues.

“Girls ! That’s enough.” Arms crossed tightly across her body, she leans in to avoid drawing attention to herself as she delivers a quiet but harsh scolding. “Stay here at the end of assembly. You have detention for constant whispering. Now, be quiet . So incredibly rude,” she hisses. 

Avoiding Mrs Marvelley’s scathing eye contact, both you and Chelsea offer mumbled apologies, a mix of sorry Miss and won’t do it again . For fuck’s sake. Detention was the last thing you needed on your first day back.You’re kicking yourself for sitting at the end of the row instead of the middle, where you would have quietly gossiped without getting caught usually.  At least it was only technically 50% your fault with Chelsea involved, when you thought about it. You pray she didn’t overhear you gushing over the new teacher—the thought itself makes you feel nauseous.

The assembly rolls to a close at long last, and students and staff begin to file out of the main hall. In the hustle and bustle, you lose sight of Mr Miller and a feeling of longing waves over you as if you miss him already like a pathetic puppy. Meanwhile, you and Chelsea remain seated, bracing yourselves a stern lecture from your form tutor. You exchange glances every now and again, struggling to stifle your laughter despite your present situation. It’s always funny how being forbidden to speak makes everything seem so much more amusing.

11:07am

Mrs Marvelley escorts you back to her classroom at breaktime and delivers a scorned lecture as she logs the detention on her prehistoric computer, almost punching the keys of the keyboard. The computer was probably as old as you, if not older.

“Girls, I cannot believe that you were being so rude, whispering constantly like that. Every single time I looked over, you were just talking . You’re meant to be the good girls in my form class — really let me down today. Imagine what impression that makes on Mr Faulkner or even Mr Miller who’s new to this college, the pair of you gossiping like that.”

Neither you or Chelsea interrupt her, knowing better to just accept the scolding than to argue back. Admittedly, she’s laying it on a bit thick, it wasn’t like you’d committed any serious infractions or catcalled and harrassed another pupil like some people you know. It was just gossiping. All the same, you feel a pang of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

Mrs Marvelley twists her thin wrist to check the time on her watch.

“Alright ladies, you’ve got 10 minutes left of your detention but I need to pop out to speak to someone next door. It'll be a few minutes. Can I trust you both to stay here until I get back?”

You and Chelsea nod without saying anything. Mrs Marvelley leaves without a word and you’re both left to your own devices.

You fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of your skirt, running it through and round your fingers before pulling at it to snap it off. Readjusting in your seat, you let out a lengthy sigh. The previous arousal in your underwear feels a little uncomfortable now, both literally and figuratively. It’s not even lesson 3 yet and it’s been a helluva day , you muse.

“Mr Miller got you all worked up, eh?” Chelsea teases, nudging her leg into yours. It was like she read you like an open book.

“Don’t you start,” you warn, rolling your eyes, your slight irritation palpable in the sideways look. But she was right. You’d barely laid eyes on him all of 5 minutes and he was already driving you crazy. “Was it obvious?”, you ask quietly, bracing yourself for the worst possible answer that your new crush on Mr Miller was clear as day.

Chelsea’s familiar hearty laugh echoes through the room. “Only because I know you so well by now. Oh, and the fact you admitted that he was, what was it? ‘So fucking perfect’ ?” She teases, her fingers waggle in the air, forming imaginary quotation marks as she quotes you.

You groan with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I said that, I’m such a dick .” You groan again, louder this time, flopping into a pathetic lump on the desk, head buried into your arms. If the ground beneath you could split open and swallow you whole, you’d welcome it with open arms. You would prefer it actually than being stuck in college for the rest of the day.

Chelsea rubs your back, her hands radiating a warm heat as she circles your upper back, maintaining a consistent pressure. Usually when she rubs your back like this, you’re throwing up into a toilet the morning after a heavy night of binge drinking in a random field somewhere—the session hidden from your parents obviously—but it’s still comforting all the same.

“You’re alright, mate, honestly.” She insists, hands moving down to give attention to your lower back. “Nobody heard ‘cept for me. Hell, I barely heard you, but I got the message.” 

Peeking out of the lump, revealing your flushed face, your eyes meet Chelsea’s. You pout at your pitiful demeanour. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

There is one last thing you need to do to feel fully assured of yourself. You offer Chelsea your little finger. “Pinky swear?”

She locks her petite finger with yours and offers a tender smile, gently nodding. “Pinky swear.”

2:04pm

The rest of the day passed without any further mishaps. You had double Spanish followed by independent study and lunch before your last period - History with the enigmatic Mr Miller. Lining up in the corridor, it feels stuffy even when you remove your thick blazer and loosen your tie. The rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your thigh does little to settle the butterflies in your tummy. You’d made a tactical judgement by standing towards the end of the line; you were waiting for Chelsea and you didn’t want to seem too keen. The shrill ring of the bell pierced through the rustle and bustle of the corridor, both clouding your mind so much you barely take notice when the rest of the line heads into the class. Mr Miller is standing at the door welcoming your class in.

His eyes lock with yours and your heart does a flip. As you make your way into class his lips curve into a soft smile, inviting and warm, and you feel like the air’s been punched out of your gut. Shit. You return with a weak smile and enter the room before you pass out.

Usually decorated with replicas of historical artefacts, boxes of old dusty textbooks and old wall displays of work from students who’d long left the college, the classroom was bare, empty like a blank canvas. The desks had been rearranged from rows of tables into groups, allowing for four people to sit. You decide to take a seat towards the front, near to where you sat last year with Chelsea. She trails in not long after you and smiles with a ‘hiya’ under her breath.

“Well, this is different.” She says scanning the classroom, unpacking her bag before sitting in the seat adjacent to you. “Least it’s not as dusty with Walker’s junk everywhere.”

“His stuff wasn’t that bad. It was just too much of it.” You follow Chelsea’s lead and get your equipment out for the lesson. As you’re getting your notebook out, your elbow nudges your pencil case and its contents spill on the floor. 

“Fuck’s sake ,” you whisper under breath. Flustered, you’re about to get out of your chair when you feel a shadow over you.

“S’alright, I got it.”

Mr Miller looms over you before getting down to grab the contents of your pencil case from the floor in one swift motion. Since this morning he’s removed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The sight of his forearms, tanned, strong and just so masculine , makes your heart flutter, a quiet thrill running through you at the thought of those arms wrapped around you, entangled together.

“There you go, darlin’.” He says, holding them out to you, a soft laugh reveals his smile lines. “Saved you gettin’ up.” Taking the handful of pens out of his hand, you swear you feel electricity in the split second his hand gazes against yours.

“Thanks, sir,” you manage to say without squeaking too much.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His velvety words dance across his tongue and you almost want to believe that he’s being this hot on purpose to torture you personally. 

Returning to his teacher desk he settles in the leather office chair and begins logging in and setting up his teaching resources. He completes the attendance register with no hitches; apart from the way he says your name has your head spinning. Satisfied that he can start the lesson, he rises from the table and stands near the board, ready to present, clicker in hand. 

“Alrigh’ folks, welcome to final year History, you’ve made it this far.” He leans casually against the wall in the space between his desk and the board before continuing.

“I’ll be level with you. It's period five on your first day back. It’s my first day. Your lil’ brains are probably information overloaded right now bouncing ‘round your heads.” He pauses and run his hand through his curly hair which is a lot more dishevelled compared to this morning. “I’ve had to meet almost too many people to meet within a day.”

He sounds gruff, like he’s worn his voice out from lecturing all day.

“Bet some of y’all are wondering how you’re still upright after the day you’ve had. Hell, I'm wondering how I’m still standing.” He chuckles, a rich, deep sound that seems to vibrate through you. A few from your class join in with a soft laugh. His irreverent humour puts your mind at ease and you appreciate his honesty.

“‘Won’t overload you with too many of the scary details of what’s going to happen this year but we’ll do an overview. That sounds good to y’all?” The class and you let out a mumble of agreement. “Let’s jump in then; this is your intro’ to The American Dream: reality and illusion, from 1945 to 2003.”

For the next half an hour, he shares an outline of what this year’s course will entail in terms of assessment: formative essays every few weeks to check your progress with course content, a historical enquiry assignment due in April, followed by your final exams in June. He goes on to describe some of the key events you'll study this year with confidence: the Cold War, the Civil Rights movement, the rise of popular culture and media, Watergate, the war on drugs, 9/11, and the U.S. invasion of Iraq. It’s quietly ironic that the college has asked him to teach on this module, and you wonder what Mr Miller’s perspective could offer when teaching some of the topics that he’s probably lived through himself.

The broad scope of subjects felt overwhelming looking at them in one go, yet it was the challenge you craved. History as a subject was one of your passions, even when it pushed your limits. A poor grade on a painstakingly crafted essay would upset you, but it didn't dissuade you either; it ignited a fierce resolve to prove yourself. Your old teacher Mr Walker was always so supportive of your interest in his subject, keen to hear your opinions and debate with you. His feedback on your essays was always fair, highlighting both the strengths and drawbacks in your analyses and opinions:

I like the way you’ve considered this, it enriches your main, overall argument. However, in paragraph 7, it feels a little weak and undersupported. Next time, you should consider looking at these sources I’ve suggested and how they may alter your argument. Good work on the whole — Grade: 20/25.

It was a shame that your work wasn’t appreciated by your other History teacher. Mr Hall's biassed grading, favouring certain students with A’s while giving you C’s and D’s, felt unjust. And it wasn’t because you thought your work was better; you’d heard through the grapevine that this particular group would pay seedy websites to produce their essays in all their subjects, slap their own names on the work and submit them. Others complained to Mr Walker about it but it fell on deaf ears, and lacked concrete evidence to prove the plagiarism so the issue never went further, despite it appearing to be an open secret. However on results day, your quiet determination paid off. You revelled in the sweet victory of an A, while the boys, once so favoured, faced the sting of D’s, E’s and U’s. You wondered if you’d be believed now if you brought the issue up again.

Throughout the lesson you earnestly take notes whilst you listen to his lecture, to jot down the important information and to show him that you’re listening intently, aching for a crumb of approval from the new teacher. The way he speaks commands the room, drawing the attention of the whole class, oozing a confidence that only comes with experience. Each word rolled out with a noticeable Texan accent, dripping with a natural, unforced charm. 

The introductory lecture draws to a close, to your disappointment. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“I hope I ain’t completely frazzled your heads, anyone got any questions?” Mr Miller offers a slight smile as he scans the room, his brown eyes meeting yours. For a second you feel his gaze on you, praying he doesn’t see your cheeks starting to warm for what feels like the hundredth time, your uniform feeling unbearable against your skin. As luck would have it, the bell rings, saving you and the class begins to pack up their belongings.

“Oh—before you go, I have this handout you need.” He turns to collect the stack of papers from his desk. In the meanwhile, you put your blazer on and start to clear away your things at an unhurried pace, waiting for everyone else to clear the room before you ask Mr Miller about what happened this morning with the boys. Chelsea’s ready to go, looking at you expectantly.

“Chels, I’ll meet you outside. I wanna ask him something.” She nods in understanding and offers a knowing wink as she leaves. 

The almost vacant classroom suddenly feels stuffy as if it will swallow you whole. Mr Miller has his back to you, shuffling and organising his already messy desk as you approach him.

“Umm, hi, Mr Miller…” you start, nibbling on your lip so hard you almost draw blood. You hear your blood pumping in your ears, heart pounding like a relentless drum.

“Oh, sorry darlin’ I didn’t realise you had a question,” he turns and sits, leaning back in his office chair, relaxed. “How can I help?” A dangerous question for your little wound up mind. I don’t know, maybe bend me over on that desk right there and fuck me so hard I forget my name?

“Uh, no, actually. It’s about something that happened this morning.” You say instead, taking a seat on the edge of the desk closest to his. Mr Miller’s expression changes, a mixture of concern and confusion, unsure of what you’re referring to. Thumbing the sleeve of your blazer, you begin to explain. “I think it was you I overheard dealing with a group of lads being a bit gross this morning…” you trail awkwardly, dropping his eye contact, hoping he catches on.

“Oh yeah, I remember now. What about it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me, I—err—appreciate it.” 

“ Oh… ” Realisation washes over him and he sits up in his chair. “Those boys were bothering you , huh? I’m sorry they were being like that. Ain’t right to talk to a lady like that,” he murmurs, his finger grazing against his bottom lip. The way he says it, dripping with charm, makes your heart swoon.

“You don’t need to apologise for them, they’re dickheads, anyway.” You offer a soft chuckle, feeling a little awkward about the situation.

“Dickheads they might be darlin’, but they needed to learn a lesson on how t’be respectful. Guess they don’t teach that over here.” He shrugs nonchalantly and a slim smile appears briefly on his lips.

Leaning forward in his chair he perches elbows on his knees, his large hands interlaced, he catches your eye and looks at you intently. “They bother you again, you tell me, alrigh’? I will deal with them.” He murmurs, voice deepening, eye contact unwavering. “I’m serious. Any word or comment, you come to me .” 

Shit. I’ll come for you if you want. You swallow hard and you feel slick arousal begin to dampen your underwear again in response to his command. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll let you know,” you try your best to sound unaffected by his commanding allure.

“Not a problem, darlin’. Now, get outta here and enjoy the rest of the day.” His smile is like a gentle caress, as warm as his gaze. He rises from his chair to see you out. You hop off the desk, bag slung over your shoulder and walk over to the door.

“One last thing,” he stops just short of the door, his tall frame towering over you. You look up to him; you guess he’s shy of 6 foot. He holds the pink, sparkly ‘Birthday Girl’ badge from Chelsea, still attached to your blazer, like he was inspecting it. 

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape in realisation and you sigh softly, attempting to hide your embarrassed face before meeting his gaze. “It was my 18th on Sunday and my friend got me this because she missed it, and made me wear it all-day.” You let out a nervous laugh, realising how silly the situation was to explain aloud to your teacher.

A lingering smile tugs at his lips, his eyes flitting down and up your body. “Well,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his thumb brushing against the colourful badge before his hand grazes down your arm, sending a jolt through your body. “Happy birthday for Sunday, darlin’, I hope you got everything you wanted,” he coos.

You have to swallow hard to stop yourself from letting out a whimper in response, aching for him to touch elsewhere instead.

Your thoughts are spinning like a record of the things you can’t say right now; I want you for my birthday, that would be the best present. I want you to touch me, suck my tits, fuck me, make me cum before you ruin me. Make me feel like no one else has. I wanna make you feel so good, I wanna be good for you. I’ll be so good, I promise. 

“T-Thanks,” you stutter, breath hitching. You excuse yourself before you let illicit thoughts pour out of you and make your way to the car park to meet Chelsea. Your head is spinning, replaying the interaction over and over; the sound of his gruff voice, the way he looked at you, his light touch over your blazer, the way he had you like putty in his hands. It drowns yet excites you, teetering on edge between being turned on and utterly overwhelmed, the cruel truth dawning on you.

You have a crush on your teacher and you’re probably—definitely—absolutely fucked.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞

[ofmdrecaps]

07/10/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Vico Oritz and Samba Schutte; Rachel House; Lindsey Cantrell; Kristian Nairn and Nathan Foad in Wee John Wednesday!; Gypsy Taylor/Ra Vincent/ Adam Wheatley; Articles; Cheers M'Queers; YouBearFineThingsWell Day 2; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika: National Kitten Day!

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad was out in droves today inspiring more honking all around! First, he retweeted one of our incredibly creative crewmates' Calypso cosplay and moving words from this past weekend!

Source @ StellarCyn's Twitter

Next up, David responded to our beloved @ofmooshd with some encouraging words! What are you up to David?

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew are pushing everything bear this week and we love to see it! We're with you crew, so excited! Here's the Decider Article they linked, and the exclusive clip with Rhys below!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Taika Waititi ==

Today I learned that Taika was one of the Executive Producer / Director of one of the episodes of the new series Interior Chinatown, premiering November 19th on Hulu! The man is involved in everything it seems!

Source: Ronny Chieng's Instagram

Follow up from yesterday, I had forgotten to include OFMD's bestie (Astroglide)'s response to the latest Taika version!

Source: Astroglide Twitter

== Rachel House ==

Rachel House was featured in a Concrete Playground article about her directorial debut film The Mountain!

Jumping Behind The Camera When You Love Being A Supporting Actor: Rachel House Talks 'The Mountain'

Source: Concrete Playground's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz + Samba ==

Florida Supercon is coming this weekend, 12-14 Jul and both Vico and Samba will be there both Saturday and Sunday!

Source: Vico's Instagram

Vico's other upcoming work, Lesbophilia, will be joining the LaughAfterDark Comedy Fest in October! Visit their site to learn more!

Source: its_michellewest Instagram

Ticket are now on sale for the LA premiere of FireFuckingFire at @lashortsfest  They'll be screening at 10pm July 28th and closing out the festival! You can buy tickets here!

Source: juliaeringer's Instagram

A little late on my part sorry-- Happy Non Binary Awareness Week from Vico!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vico Ortiz (@puertoricaninja)

Source: Vico's IG

== Gypsy Taylor / Ra Vincent / Adam Wheatley ==

Gypsy, Ra, and Adam were nominated for Costume Design, Production Art Department/Design, as well as Concept Art Awards with the Australian Production Design Guild! Congrats you three!

Source: Gypsy Taylor's Instagram / APDG Awards Website

== Lindsey Cantrell ==

Reminder! Our beloved set designer's new short Watching Walter will be airing at the LA Shorts festival in LA on July 19! You can buy tickets here if you're in the area!

Source: Lindsey Cantrell's Instagram Stories

== Kristian and Nathan ==

Our darling Kristian and Nathan gave us YET ANOTHER insanely fun WJW. These two are the absolute best. If you get a chance, give it a watch. CW: Mention of Witnessing Shootings/Death

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

Some minor highlights from WJW today!

Nathan's been traveling!

Both of them are going to a bunch of American Comic Cons

Kristian has been working on his book and being crafty (turned some white Nikes into Spiked, Glittery Nikes)

Kristian and Nathan will be doing a wee WJW in Raleigh with the cast if they can

Nathan will be going to a not yet announced European Comic Con sometime this year

Kristian read a few excerpts from his book

There will be an audiobook version that Kristian will voice

During OFMD S1 Kristian asked David and everyone about his accent and if he should change it and David replied with "We just want YOU Kristian"

One of the funniest days on set was Nat Faxon and the GreenScreen teeth when the Swede had Scurvy

Nathan described himself as "Nathan Underscore Foad" and now the fandom will henceforth call him this.

These were some of my favorite shots of these two:

And this is a bit of bonus features for the WJW but you'll have to watch it for context:

Source: Nathan's Instagram

Adopt Our Crew was kind enough to put together his list of where you can buy Kristian's Book! Reminder-- bookshop is great if you want to support your local bookstores!

Barnes & Noble

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Bookshop.com

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Articles ==

Adding already mentioned and one more article to this section for more easily finding them later! Thank you @adoptourcrew for sharing them!

Decider: The Hungry Games

The 10 Best Show's To Watch If You Love 'Lady Jane'

== Cheers M'Queers! ==

The Cheers M'Queers variety show tickets are on sale now! Join Our Flag Makes A Difference on July 31st at Akbar, in Los Angeles for drag, music, and so much more! Get your Tickets here!

Source: Our Flag Makes A Difference Twitter

== You Bear Fine Things Well ==

Yesterday was Day 2 of #YouBearFineThingsWell by @adoptourcrew and they asked the fandom what kind of bear each member of the crew would be! Starting off the fan spotlights, I'd like to give a special shoutout to the fab @ everyonegetcake on twitter, for their brilliant submission of Kraken Ed Bear aka Cocaine Bear to the event! I laughed pretty hard at this one.

Source: @ everyonegetcake

I am so very happy that our dear crewmate @sirencalll included Mary Louis and Alma! Look at that proud mama bear! <3

Source: Sirencalll on Twitter

Our badass crewmate Jeniye aka @ nifafifa on twitter got one I didn't think I'd ever see and that is Buttons and Karl!

Source: NifaFifa's Twitter

And to close out the fan spotlight of #YouBearFineThingsWell Day 2, I'd like to end on a submission by the glorious Manu, aka @ VictoriaVan9 on twitter! That is an impressive spread by both Ed AND BearEd!

Source: @ VictoriaVane9's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I saw so much continuous clowning today! 2-3 days in a row? It's been a while since we've had that much all at once! I'm so happy to see people feeling the love and camaraderie with each other again! I hope that continues even if we see things calm down! Something I heard in WJW today that really stuck with me was "We just want YOU Kristian", something David said when Kristian kept asking if his Belfast accent was okay for the role. How absolutely heartwarming is that? We knew that David and the rest of the cast and crew were kind and wanted everyone to be themselves, but to hear that out of the mouth of Kristian and how it affected him, in his book where he poured out his soul-- just hit so much harder. That really is one of the major values that drew me, and I know quite a few others of the crew to OFMD so hard. Acceptance and celebration of individual uniqueness is at the core of OFMD-- it's part of the building blocks that makes our show so special. Each crew member has their own skills they bring to the table, and we can feel safe when we're allowed to be our true selves around others.

OFMD exudes that kind of acceptance in droves. We can hear it in their varying accents, in the wide array of queer portrayal, in the character's love and acceptance and forgiveness of each other-- in the music, the stage decoration, and the cinematography. We each are different, and we all bring things to the table that make the fandom, or the world a better place. We may not always get along, but it is in the uniqueness of so many crew we find creativity, love, kindness, acceptance, and a place where we can feel safe and learn to be more of our true and authentic selves. Embrace your uniqueness lovelies. You are different from me, from your moots, from your favorite fan artist/writer and that's fucking beautiful. We want YOU, crew. Be YOU in everything you do. Rest up lovelies, see you tomorrow <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Today was National Kitten Day so these two appropriate gifs just HAD to make an encore appearance. Gifs courtesy of the stunning and brilliant @kiwistede and @yourcatwasdelicious!

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 58 Welp Posting

Hello kind void. Short (for me) yap this time... it's mostly just pain this chapter, after all. So much pain.

Very rough TL of the editor's notes:

First page: 漆羽の命滅契約は一体…? [Uruha no meimetsu keiyaku ha ittai...?!, What in the world happened to Uruha's lifelong contract...!?] Last page: 信念のもと漆羽を殺めた座村を前に… [Shinen no moto Uruha wo ayameta Samura wo maeni..., Standing in front of Samura, who killed Uruha due to his conviction...] Google Translate or DeepL can probably do better than me on this one, so go ahead and copy/paste that text into one of those instead for a better idea. Just note that 漆羽 (Uruha) usually gets auto-translated to "Urushiba" and 座村 (Samura) to "Zamura".

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Pregame Mini Meta Rant: If I hear a SINGLE complaint about how many panels were reused this chapter Imma get heated. Yeah, there's been a lot of copy-crop-paste stuff going on in the past two weeks. This chapter alone re-used Hakuri's exhausted seal pose four times. But the major scenes still hit hard as fuck and the new art is holding up. Let the author do what it takes to avoid burnout and health issues just as his series is getting the major promotion treatment, okay? Dude's had to do a lot of extra work recently with the cover and colour pages in addition to the usual volume redraws and accompanying filler sketches/doodles.

These chapters were probably being written and drawn about the same time as the extra materials. It's not like the author starts drawing on Monday and sends the chapter out by Friday so it can be published Sunday- they're finished weeks in advance before they're released. I recommend checking out a short manga called The Right Way to Make JUMP! by Takeshi Sakurai if the practical details of getting manga out to thousands of readers in both print & digital simultaneously every week seem interesting!

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Uruha vs. Samura

I interrupt this ramble before it even begins to do a little celebratory dance. I got most of what I yapped about last chapter right for once! Yay! ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪ I won't have to recap the Samura motivation/mindset yap with the new information! (This will probably never happen again.)

Anyway...

Let's start with this because fuck it was so cool and sad.

I love how every character in this manga holds fast to their convictions, man. But I didn't expect Samura to be so cold about killing his former apprentice y'know?! Not even a hint of remorse from this guy. Between this and the subdued greeting Uruha gave him, the lack of warmth in their dialogue together... I wonder if they had a positive relationship. Uruha certainly respected Samura's skills but the contrast between how he thinks about Kunishige and the man who presumably taught him everything he knows about fighting is striking, isn't it? He was pretty unemotional about having to duel his master to the death despite being such an emotive guy. Yet now we'll probably never know... (sigh).

Here's something I missed on my first read: Samura didn't use Tobimune to face Uruha; he was just the quicker draw with a regular katana.

His sword is closer to being sheathed, while Uruha's sword is still farther out.

In case anyone still wants to believe that Uruha is alive or can come back somehow after this... more power to you. The Sojo copers can probably give you some tips if you need them. But there is one small smidgen of comfort to be had, if one wants to interpret it as such.

Not using Tobimune can be read as respecting Uruha's determination and facing him on equal footing. I know he unnecessarily double-tapped Uruha when he was laying on the ground- he didn't need to slash the guy again with Tobimune to make the kill. I get it, the Enchanted Blades are tools of death. Just let me have this. I need it.

Uruha deserved better. He deserve to live, dammit. I didn't get nearly enough of him. But what a way to go. Standing up for what you believe, your dead (boy)friend's last words telling you to live no matter what running through your head. Fighting for your life to honor his wish even though it's a completely lost cause... fuck what a tragic character. He was such a passionate guy despite the losses he suffered. Uruha, man... I really wanted to spend more time with him, but I guess all we'll get of him are flashbacks about him from other people or during scenes recounting what happened in the war.

The worst part of saying goodbye is that it felt like we had so much more to see and learn about him. His story's incomplete but it's over all the same. That's what hurts most when authors kill these characters- the sense of real loss because of all the loose ends. Anything we learn about him will be retroactive for context. No more growth, no more silly faces... damn you Samura...! Fuck this author makes good villains in a short span of time.

Whatever incident was covered up 18 years ago has to be incredibly awful to drive Samura to become an avenger for the truth. I'm talking "establishing a whole fucking international court system to process it for over a decade" levels of bad. Which it may well be, if this flashback from Sojo's PoV in chapter 8 remains unchanged when we revisit it for context:

Hello, probable war crimes.

Yeah I'm banking on that mystery kid being Magatsumi's current wielder. Whether he was a child soldier or picked up the sword by accident somehow, this might be the clue to The Incident that turned Samura against his allies. The point about how anyone can use the Enchanted Blades is made repeatedly during and after the Sojo arc- why not a child? Covering up a massacre like that would be in a lot of people's interests.

Unfounded spitball theories aside, now that Hakuri and Chihiro are both clued in that some real bad shit went down, we can expect to learn more about it. Hopefully sooner rather than later because I'll definitely be judging the shit outta Samura based on how awful it is. I'm very interested in his moral dilemma but I've got unreasonably high standards as to what kind of event could drive someone to do something so awful (in fiction, at least). IRL people are messy, but fiction demands justification. And the way this incident is being hyped up makes me believe it's different from the other horrors of war sinking in and slowly driving someone to resent everything they did for the cause. Whatever the Bearers and the Kamunabi covered up is going to cast them all -Kunishige included- in an extremely unflattering light.

Burnout

He just looks so cute being carried like that even though he's so exhausted and roughed up…

... Yeah. Poor Hakuri.

I won't take up as much space here as I want to yapping about him because most of it's just retreads of things I've been saying for weeks already. But man. Man.

This guy awoke to his powers, killed his dad and brothers, put an end to his family's cruelty, saved a bunch of lives at great risk to himself, passed out, and woke up to try and do this crazy mission with Chihiro all in just over 24 hours. He's so fried he fell asleep while being carried piggy-back and can't even move any more! But he's still kicking himself for not summoning Kumeyuri for Uruha when he had enough adrenaline to sort of stand up on his own. Never mind the brain haemorrhage- he's got lives to save. Ms. Makizumi's words about pushing himself too hard being dangerous just go in one ear and out the other. These people want him to care about himself for the mission and because he deserves it but he just refuses to take it to heart...

Then the person he promised to protect is killed in front of him right after he made it his life's mission to prevent exactly this sort of scenario.

Fuck.

Can't even turn this into a ship moment I'm so bent out of shape. Someone strip me of my fudanshi creds.

It looks like Hakuri did summon Chihiro in a panic after all- he couldn't even call out to Uruha so reaching for Chihiro instead was his first instinct. He just wasn't fast enough because his body and mind are on the brink of totally shutting down. If he's truly unable to use sorcery again after finally gaining his own strength at long last... oh, that will hurt so bad. I'm not ready for how hard Hakuri's going to be on himself when he eventually wakes up despite doing his very best.

Hakuri's gonna be out of commission for sure after this event.

I'm close to 100% positive he'll temporarily lose his powers now. If it comes to be, then Kagurabachi will have passed my bullshit "don't say they'll die if the consequences don't match up to the risk" test. Being paralyzed and powerless for a while is good enough to convince me that death really was a possible outcome. See, it's really that easy. Totally not unfair and arbitrary.

Regardless, there's a lot of suffering ahead for Chihiro and Hakuri. Not only did all of this shit go down the day right after the Rakuzaichi, but there's still whatever the blood test will reveal hanging out there... the political and practical price of this failure with the Kamunabi... processing the guilt of not being able to save a life... coming to terms with how much they don't know... so much has happened to them in a short 24-ish hours, huh? And neither of them have anything good to look forward to in the short-term.

I gotta wonder what Hakuri will do this arc if he's literally unable to move for a while. His PoV gave us the info that there was a specific incident that was covered up, but that doesn't mean he'll be involved in that plot line. But let's save that stress for another time- gotta see how badly he fucked himself up and how things shake out between Chihiro and Samura first.

Chihiro vs. Samura

(Ch. 50) A long-awaited reunion.

What will go down next week? I'm sure as hell not gonna try to guess. Could be anything from casual conversation to an actual skirmish. At least one thing will definitely not happen though.

Neither Chihiro nor Samura are dying here. Chihiro cannot die until the last fight in the series is finished, so that's out (boo joyless nerd take no fun booooooo). Samura's simply too strong to go down to an exhausted Chihiro and we still have to learn the history behind his motives. So he's gonna stick around for a bit longer to cause trouble. Wouldn't be surprised if he's the arc boss! Hiruhiko's got his own training arc ahead of him and all (and some arms to reattach), so he'll be more of a recurring villain than someone to defeat as a character growth moment for now. It's looking like Samura vs. Chihiro for the foreseeable future IMO.

If I can reveal a selfish hope, I want Samura facepalming Chihiro and feeling the scar to be the means of getting insight on how he feels about Chihiro's situation. Samura's probably the one who tipped off the Hishaku about Kunishige's location thanks to accidentally finding out when Momma Shiba took Chihiro to the local festival. Oh boy, if Chihiro learns that Samura was the one that sold him and his dad out... that would be some incredibly potent angst. His hero, a monster? Say it ain't so. Would have told you sooner if I could, Chihiro.

Hm, Kunishige and the Bearers who were entrusted with his vision...

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 9)

(Chapter 58)

I feel confident in thinking that Samura is basically Bad End Chihiro now. He's been tormented by guilt for nearly two decades and has decided to do everything himself. He'll kill his former comrades and the Hishaku or go down swinging- and kill himself if he actually succeeds. He's on a doomed mission to scorch the earth and take out as much evil as he can. All scum go to hell! Including the guy who's so mired in grief that he does a lot of murder to cope. Those scars of his don't look like tear tracks in some shots for nothin'. (Wait, wasn't I talking about Chihiro for a bit there?)

Chihiro's well on his way to following Samura's path already... he's not the type to kill his comrades, but he's definitely got the "guilty sinning avenger" thing going on strong. So if Samura is Chihiro's "Bad End", what will he force Chihiro to realize? Every major foe reflects a part of Chihiro back at himself and forces him to answer difficult questions, after all. Sojo- forced him to accept that there are multiple ways to interpret and use his dad's legacy

Kyora- forced him to look at his own devotion to his dad's legacy and admit he doesn't know as much as he needs to

Hiruhiko (round 1)- forced him to admit that he thinks of himself as a monster for the lengths he's willing to go to

As for Samura, I think it'll be along the lines of "is it necessary or justifiable to sin and/or commit oneself hell for the sake of a cause?". Maybe "can I be redeemed at all?" (or if redemption is even necessary in the first place). Legitimately can't wait to see what goes down between them next week to get more clues! God I love this manga so much. I haven't been so consistently engaged week to week like this in ages.

...One last thought. This is probably looking too far ahead as an angst merchant and I was rightly rebuked for mentioning it. I should know better than to share the worthless depressing bullshit that goes on in my head. But these posts are supposed to just be some yaps into an ambivalent abyss so... sorry, kind internet void, but you get some of my depresso espresso.

"The least I can do is refrain from causing harm to others and take you Hishaku bastards to hell with me." - Chihiro (ch. 53)

With all the deliberate parallels drawn between Samura->Chihiro and Uruha->Hakuri, I wouldn't be surprised if our favourite protagonist/deuteragonist pair has the same exchange later down the line. Definitely not under similar circumstances! I can imagine scenarios where Chihiro is trying to kill Hakuri but they're so far removed from canon that they make absolutely zero sense.

But there could well be a time where Chihiro decides to leave because he really does need to bear this burden alone and Hakuri tries to call him out on the ridiculousness of that mindset. I think it would be a happier result for Chihiro and Hakuri compared to Samura and Uruha if only because Chihiro isn't as far gone as the blind traitor rat is. But yeah I'm just sticking that in my back pocket to see if it manifests in the future.

Time to write some hurt/comfort and hope canon eases up on the pain soon. It's either that or setting up a bingo sheet with all the angst scenarios I've got written down in my drafts and notes... I choose the one that I can create my own happy ending for. Until next time, dear void.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Excerpt from Doc's 6/23 Stream Recap

I'm going to bed early tonight because I stayed up recapping til 4am last night, so I'm not going to finish this stream until tomorrow. Enjoy this unhinged little sequence from Doc's Sunday stream this week.

43:30 Doc forgets the inherent peril of every GoodTimesWithScar build and gets severely jumpscared by the creeper that sneaks up behind him. He’s not hurt but the front yard of Poe Poe HQ has lost some landscaping. Doc thinks that vandalizing Poe Poe HQ might not be the best move for a guy in his legal position, and it seems like the “SUE TODAY” banner on the courthouse might just be mocking him. He remembers that Scar’s building supplies chest monster hasn’t been picked up yet and goes to rummage through it for extra booshes. He finds some, but comes very, very, very close to blowing up Scar’s entire chest monster when another creeper pays a visit.

44:40 Doc uses freecam to show the now-underground broken rainbow beacon, buried under the road between the courthouse and the police station. The metaphor would be unbearably heavy-handed if it weren’t also obviously accidental. Doc replaces the destroyed bushes and takes a look at Poe Poe HQ by daylight, declaring it a really cool build. He laughs at the enormous POE sign and is confused by the sand countdown clock. Chat tells him it is counting down to the enforcement of the rule against popup shops in the shopping district. Doc wonders who made this, even as he finds a trapdoor with a sign reading “Ultra Redstoners Only.” Deciding he is definitely in that club, he enters without hesitation to check out the guts of the countdown machinery. He studies it for a moment and asks in complete befuddlement “Who _made_ this?” Hearing from Chat that it was Scar does explain a lot. Doc decides he had better leave before the redstone drives him insane.

46:40 Time to go back and work on interior design again. Doc does not want to do his interior design. He bemoans the fact that he got himself into a quarrel with Cleo, who would’ve been the perfect Hermit to tap for all the armor stand work he needs done but is now mad at him. He decides he should wander around and look for design ideas from other shops, because he is so uninspired. Chat suggests Joel has great interiors, so does Pearl. Doc admires Joel’s octopus but does not want one in his armor trim boutique. Chat thinks the octopus is amazing. Doc tells Chat they are useless. Chat doesn’t care; they want to go look at the Lizzie statue at Joel’s base. A chatter says they heard Doc was going to play Stardew Valley and is excited about it; Doc tells them he has played Stardew Valley through three times already. He’s exploited everything exploitable in that game and even made a tutorial for finding rare fish; Stardew Valley has nothing left for him.

49:00 Doc looks around in the honey shop for decoration ideas, but is disappointed to find no armor stand work to get inspired by. Chat wants to hear the song. Doc is unenthusiastic but plays the song. He goes on an entire facial journey as Chat grooves to the “Honey, Honey, Honey” song. “Jesus Christ,” Doc says. This puts Joel at the top of the suspect list as far as Doc is concerned. Anyone who could come up with that song is clearly capable of anything.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/21/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; Rhys Darby; Samba BTS; Vico Ortiz; Ruibo Qian; HowToHelp; Petition Embed; Queerties Last Day; IRL Outreach Assets; New Watch Parties; Visual Rep of SaveOFMD Effort; Fan Spotlight; Collages; OurFlagMeansBooze; Articles; Morale; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

Wow everyone, crazy day again. Day 2 of BTS Darbygeddon. I'm actually going to set a google calendar reminder for tomorrow between 1-2 in case Samba decides to drop another doozy on us. Hope you all had a good day. Here's the highlights-- there's more I would have liked to add but I need to get permission first, so I'll hopefully have them up tomorrow. As always, please let me know if I missed anything <3

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Rhys Darby =

Back again with another Cameo is Rhys for our lovely crewmate @Kellykat53 over on twitter! Thank you so much for sharing this with us Kelly, it's a lovely little inspirational video, definitely gives us plenty of Vitamin RD (as @scorpiostarseed would say). Check out the Cameo

= Saint Samba Schutte =

I've seen several people mention that Samba is a Saint (sorry not sure who started it to attribute it) so going forward, that will be his name. SO MANY BTS pictures and videos. My goodness. Has it even been a day since the last Merstede dump? It has, but damn, here we are with the BOYFRIEND video, and the nipple scratching, and oh look it's Buttons from the Cryptid Factor! As always, if you have access to instagram, please check out these posts on Samba and Rhys' posts/stories.

Videos on Tumblr:

Boyfriends - ty @blakbonnet!

Merstede - ty @kiwistede!

English Jacket - ty @kiwistede!

Cursed Jacket - ty @kiwistede!

Steard Nips - ty @kiwistede!

Rhysently Granted Reunion - ty @kiwistede!

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico voiced the new novel "The Diablo's Curse "by New York Times Best Seller Gabe Cole Novoa! I know some of you are huge Vico fans so wanted to mention it, you can purchase the audio book here. Src: Vico's IG

= Ruibo Qian =

Are you in New York? Our Pirate Queen will be at the #TonyKiserTheater NEXT MONDAY, FEBRUARY 26 at 6:30PM for a one night only reading of On The Evolutionary Function of Shame, by D.A. Mindell - For more details visit here.

== How to Help ==

Hey all! We're adding some things to the daily task lists (and taking some off). Here they are!

= Petition Embed Code =

Looking to easily embed the petition link in your AO3 fic, or maybe your email? @sonnetforbonnet was kind enough to provide us with some embeds you can use! Please visit the repo for the codes!

= Last day for Queerties! =

Please remember to vote! Today's the last day!

Best TV Comedy

Best TV Performance

= IRL Outreach Assets =

== New Watch Parties Coming Up! ==

The Pirates! Watch Party! This is a family friendly movie so bring the kids! Or the adults-- or anyone you know, really, as long as it's not against their will! Sunday March 3rd, 3 PM EST, 12 PM PST, 8 PM GMT!

Watch Party Hashtags:

#OurPirateCaptain

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

== Visual Representation of Fandom Efforts to SOFMD ==

Remember our friends that had the in person Matelotage Processional? Well they're back with a funny video illustrating the fandom efforts of Save OFMD!

Fangirlfoto's Instagram Don't have instagram? See the video on the repo here.

＝＝ Fan Spotlight ＝＝

Thank you once again to @wndrngnomad on twitter for all their awesome collages dedicated to the Cast and Crew! Day 21: Calypso's Birthday! Perfectly timed considering the lovely Boyfriend themed BTS we got today! Catch-Up: Day 2: Madeleine Sami!

= Our Flag Means Booze! =

Our absolutely brilliant crew-mate @quiet-compassion over on tumblr has been designing OFMD Themed Drinks since the show was dropped by Max!  These not only have super fun and creative names you'll all recognise, but an amazing array of flavours too! If you're 21+ (in the US) or the appropriate age for drinking in your country, feel free to try them out! As always, please drink responsibly! Are you celebrating with Moonglow Manifesting? Why not try the "Moon Glow" cocktail for the end of the event! Want to see ALL their concoctions? Head on over to the repo, they're all there!

== Articles ==

17 Facts and Easter Eggs about OurFlagMeansDeath That will Get you On Board - 17 Fakten und Easter Eggs zu „Our Flag Means Death“, die dich ins Boot holen - ty @AddieH on twitter

Max: The 34 Absolute Best TV Shows to Watch

==Morale ==

Hey crew. I've been hearing some scuttlebutt around the deck that people are starting to worry again about whether or not s3 is going to happen. The love notes section is already pretty long so I'm not gonna go too crazy up here too -- instead I'm going to just point out that David Jenkins, while not active and posting things for us right now, is sneakily poking around in Samba and Rhys' BTS comments. He's still there, he's still watching, and I think he can tell we're all feeling the high from Samba's releases. Don't give up hope, these things take time. They're gonna get there. I'm gonna add the trends to this section today because I think it's important to see what we did today:

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies. I know I've said it before, but it bares repeating since I know a lot of you are struggling right now.

Just a gentle reminder that if your brain is telling you that there's something wrong with you, or that you've done something wrong or embarrassing -- it's lying to you.

There's been so much dopamine from all the excitement lately with the BTS, that it has to come down at some point, and when it does, your brain will sometimes over-compensate and you start feeling maybe worse than you did before.

This is totally normal, it really is. Our brains are glorious complex pathways of unmeasurable brilliance, and yet a simple hormone change can make that same brain tell us that we're not enough, or we're not worthy.

I am here to remind you, you are so very much enough.

No matter what is happening in your life-- in your job, in your personal relationships, in your family, in your school, anywhere--

YOU ARE ENOUGH, EXACTLY HOW YOU ARE.

If you feel like you've failed, or you've let someone down, just know you are STILL enough. We all fail, it's how we learn.

We pick ourselves back up and we try again, and if we fail again--

We're STILL enough, and we are still worthy of love and comfort.

Eventually you will succeed. You will get there, and all the while while you work on it, YOU. ARE. ENOUGH.

I know it's so hard to see when you're feeling small, but I see you all every day, and I am awe-struck at your constant ability to band together and not only find love and support, but give it so freely and lovingly.

A simple @ to someone, alerting them to something they'd like

A love note in dms or on a tumblr post

A gif or picture or video brought to tumblr from some other platform so others can see them.

Writing a fic or drawing a picture.

A reblog with tags, goofy or not

Anon Asks showing people you support how they feel about a given topic

Liking a post.

These are all love notes. No matter how public or private, they're all there and they all add up eventually to form this wonderful community and you've been kicking ass at love.

I know we all look like we're having a good time, but a lot of us are struggling silently, and yet we're finding ways to reach out to one another and spread love to help us all get through. Love isn't always positivity, it can be commiseration, or frustration on behalf of someone. You all are finding the best ways to help your crew, and I'm so very proud of you.

You all are capable, creative, gifted, beautious piles of stardust smooshed together into one wonderfully unique package, and you are so very loved.

You are enough,

You are loved,

and THINGS WILL GET BETTER Lovelies.

Get some rest <3 You got this.

= Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika =

What can I say, I literally can't not include this Rhys gif today. It's physically impossible, please forgive me. Good fucking lord, I'm going to Costa Rica now. Also, sorry I tried to get a matching Taika gif, but I have run out of brain cells. Hopefully this one will suffice.

Rhys - Courtesy of @bizarrelittlemew

Taika - Courtesy of @studiomoon

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 251: Decisive Battle in the Unhabited, Demon-Infested Shinjuku, Part 23--Megumi is back!! aaaaand it's not looking good

Well. In case you've been living under a rock, Megumi is back and everyone and their mom knows about it because Twitter demonstrated to be full of people who lack reading comprehension, basic human compassion, and an understanding of how trauma fucks with the mind. Only the latter is excusable, since this is domain-specific knowledge that I don't expect others to be aware of.

The number of times I've read the word "bitch" next to Megumi's name is appalling to say the least.

So... yeah... happy jjk-Sunday? Sorry, I wish I had a more upbeat intro to my ramble for this chapter but man... this fandom is something else and a lot of the comments about Megumi were just so...

Anyways let's taco'bout Megumi and share Megumi-love under the cut.

What is this irritating feeling?

Why does this matter? If you haven't seen me mention this over on the twt already, Sukuna makes a small gesture that is unequivocally Megumi body-language in chapter 248:

Megumi typically places his hand over his shoulder when he's stressed (although I have to confirm he only does it when stressed):

It isn't just the body language that is significant, but rather the way of thinking itself. I didn't catch this myself, but Ant and Danchou did, so I might not do it justice when explaining it.

This way of thinking is very Megumi-like in how he second-guesses himself. More than second-guessing, however, it also feels like a nascent sense of consciousness. All of this obviously presents a very interesting dilemma because, as Sukuna recognizes, sharing a body with Yuji has changed him.

I think we all knew Yuji or Megumi would be changed by Sukuna--because that is how Gege directed our attention by having Gojo mention Yuji could inherit Sukuna's CT by the mere fact that they shared a body. I know I also assumed that Megumi would maybe learn from Sukuna using 10s. But I also know I never even considered that the opposite could be true: Yuji and Megumi could also change Sukuna.

So, the way I see it, with that hand gesture, we have what appears to be Megumi's sense of self bubbling up from under the surface and changing Sukuna.

What's interesting to me is how subtle this is. Sukuna notices this as an "irritating feeling" that is incomprehensible to someone like him who rejects aspirational ideals.

So, part of what I love about this is that sharing a body with Yuji has deepened Sukuna's own experience of reality.

Sukuna is all ego, right? Ego is everything that is concrete...

So I have to wonder how much of this is also Megumi's own emotional turmoil given what we saw this chapter...

Wake up, Megumi!

Ok so let's do a quick recap...

We also know Tsumiki is integral to how Megumi sees himself. This is very important because Megumi basically makes her his raison d'être. In other words, his whole identity is framed around protecting her during the Culling Game. Aside from the obvious shock that it was to realize Yorozu was pretending to be Tsumiki the whole time, which meant Tsumiki was dead, the issue with Megumi was that he made Tsumiki his identity.

And if there is one thing we have seen happen time and time again in jjk is how being limited by your self-ascribed identity comes back and bites you in the ass.

So in Megumi's case, what happens when his whole identity was framed around a single outcome, and then he realized that outcome turned out to be a failure right from the start?

An identity crisis or basically no sense of self.

So what does he have to live for now?

What reason does he have for living if the person whom he had wrapped his identity around is now gone? This is what created the opening for Sukuna to possess him.

What's crazy about this is that even when he was weakened, he still put up a fight and elicited a "Fushiguro Megumi" from Sukuna. Sukuna had probably already considered the importance of the bath, but this likely solidified the need to have Megumi marinate in cursed energy. Like... this is what it took to bury Megumi's consciousness. Also, this is important because we're talking about marinating in negative emotions "to be near evil".

Now, it's midnight and I got to get to sleep, but the way jjk uses "evil" is not cliché at all, but almost like as a metaphor for chaos, hyper individuality, and instinct. I started writing about Naoki Urasawa's Monster, so hopefully I can get around to explaining the whole good vs. evil dichotomy (which is one of my favorite topics ever) soon, but this is all I'll say for now. I'll come back to this in a sec.

Next, Megumi's own Cursed Technique (which we know is tied to the brain and personality) and hands are used to kill Tsumiki's body and Gojo while Megumi can only observe.

And then, Gojo accidentally blitzes Megumi's soul with his technique.

Like are we for real expecting Megumi to just stand up and start throwing hands after all he's been through? What is wrong with people???!!!!!!!!!!! Have some compassion ffs.

Unfortunately, this isn't just about a lack of reading comprehension and compassion, it's also about lack of domain knowledge. This is Trauma with a BIG T we're talking about, and Trauma has been shown to limit how you see yourself and how you are able to think.

So, of course Megumi is distraught. The writing in this is so damn realistic.

Now, Gege has been paying special attention to Megumi's body language, and while the rest of the fandom is laughing at the "Mahoraga hands", I'm looking at how tightly closed those fists are. Even the way he's curled up in a tight ball... Almost like he's about to blow up from sheer pressure.

Quite the contrast to the last time we saw him in a similar position but with more relaxed body language.

And remember, he marinated in cursed energy so that he would be closer to "evil", right? Plus getting blitzed?

Listen, I am ready for Yuji's pep talk, I am sure it will be generational, but right now, I don't think Megumi is ready (or maybe even able) to hear it. Again, because Trauma with a big T.

Plus Sukuna loosing control of Megumi's body? You kind of have to wonder why Megumi's energy has been crescendoing to the point that Sukuna would be affected by it and not only think like Megumi, but also use body language that is unequivocally Megumi.

This feels like a Megumi is about to snap.

This is starting to feel ominous precisely because he's marinated in these self-destructive emotions for so long. Emotions which surely intensified as he saw the consequences of his inability to take action.

But then again... I was expecting a blood bath out of the culling game and it was everything but so 🤣 idk what to tell y'all. As predictable as he is, Gege is unpredictable af.

Ok I think those are my main thoughts? WHAT ABOUT Y'ALL?!!!!!! What are we thinking? What are the theories? oh mai gah.

Even if I'm responding to asks slowly, I'm still reading them as they come in guys. Sorry, school + work is kicking my ass because well... in typical Megumi fashion I haven't taken responsibility for bringing out my best.

That said, I go off to sleep 🫡 Thanks for reading!

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (5-11 May 2024)

another absolutely unhinged episode from this crew. i love them all so much.

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🙂 Lessons in Exposing a Deadly Alias (Cambridge Fellows Mysteries) (Charlie Cochrane) - this series is now the equivalent of watching criminal minds or some other long-running procedural: it's certainly not for the plot/mystery but for the characters who are family. I do love that as the series has gone on their friends & family have taken on a more active role in the investigations. that said, I think I might be done with this series; it took me forever to get thru this bc I wasn't remotely motivated to get back to it.

🥰 No One Likes Us But We Don't Care (Rainne) - 45K, modern Steve/prewar Bucky - an accidental interdimensional swap drops a 1940s Bucky into the present - he & Steve figure out what that means for them (3rd in a series)

😍 Spectred Isle (Green Men #1) (KJ Charles, author; Ruairi Carter, narrator) - [reread] very old world supernatural shenanigans in 1920s England - truly sad that there won't be any more in this universe because it's sooooo good and so rich but forever grateful we at least got this marvelous (and complete) story

🥰 it's good to see you back in a bar band, baby (LiarsandThieves22) - 139K, Steddie modern musician AU - absolutely adored this! enemies-to-friends-to lovers speedrun, understandable & character appropriate mutual pining, fantastic supporting characterizations - it had it all!

😍 You Should Be So Lucky (Cat Sebastian, author; Joel Leslie, narrator) - baseball player Eddie & newspaper writer Mark are both dealing with some devastating life events. They find each other and some solace and healing. This book, like We Could Be So Good, is absolutely incredible. It knocked my socks off and healed my heart. It almost made me like baseball! I'm just going to quote from a review written by kiki124 in the Romance Salon server because she is great with words and captured it exactly: "I was just blown away by the writing and the ways Sebastian drew these two utterly believable and interesting characters, plus all the side characters, plus the literary notes, plus the queer history plus the New York history. I think that what I love the best about these books is that the story doesn't end when the characters fall in love--there's a whole second half of the book to come as the relationship has room to breathe and grow and work out kinks. Literally everyone who has a heart and a brain should read these books."

💖💖 +115K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

the Steve Rogers problem (relenafanel) - MCU: stucky AU, 36K - "Bucky doesn't consider his Steve Rogers problem as a problem so much as the solution he hadn't realized he was hoping for to help him through the transition from the Bucky Barnes he'd been before his accident to the new, shiny version of himself. No, the problem isn't with Captain America and The Howling Commandos fandom. The problem is the amount of porn Bucky managed to write and draw about Captain America before finding out that he's less than one degree of separation away from Steve Rogers. 'Less than' as in he's sitting across the table from him."

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Is It Cake? - s2, e4-5

Girls5eva - s1, e1

QI - series U, e4-8

Beyond Paradise - s2, e4-6

Game Changer - s6, e8

Strange Way of Life (2023)

Um, Actually - s6, e6

The Brokenwood Mysteries - s10, e2

Smartypants - s1, e2

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Rock The Boat" (s21, e18)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Blimey" (s16, e18)

Doctor Who - series 14, e1-2

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Re: Dracula - May 5: The Dead Travel Fast

Wiser Than Me - Julia Gets Wise with Patti Smith

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Sans-Souci Palace

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! BONUS - The animal that terrifies Peter, and other 'Wild Card' topics

Re: Dracula - May 7: Stranger in a Strange Land

Short Wave - 'Stealing The Past': A Spat Between Twins Leads To A Theory Of Disputed Memories

Re: Dracula - May 8: Foul Bauble of Man's Vanity

Vibe Check - Oh, How We Have Fallen From Taste

Re: Dracula - May 9: Castles in the Air

Today, Explained - Israel, Gaza, and Eurovision

Consider This from NPR - From utility man to one of California's foremost journalists

It's Been a Minute - A 'Wild Card' game with Rachel Martin

Wild Card with Rachel Martin - Issa Rae thinks a little delusion goes a long way

⭐ It's Been a Minute - Drake and Kendrick are beefing, but who pays? Plus, moms as our social safety net

Today, Explained - The real victims of Baby Reindeer

Re: Dracula - May 11: Pray for my Happiness

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - TikTok’s Boom-Bling

⭐ Lost Notes - Go with the Flow: Community, Virality, and the Politics of Dancing

Why Won't You Date Me? - Love in Theater (w/ Jesse Tyler Ferguson)

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - Chappell Roan

⭐ Big Gay Fiction Podcast - Baseball, 1960 New York, and Bad Dogs with Cat Sebastian

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Beauly Priory Wych Elm

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

'60s Sunshine Pop

'60s Folk Rock

Dance Party Hits

Carly Rae Jepsen

Presenting Charli XCX

Presenting Dua Lipa

Energy Supermix

Women of Electronic

Essential Proto-Metal

Rock Radio • 1980s • Popular • High variety

Presenting The Beach Boys

Classical Workout

Instrumental Hard Rock

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 7/16/2024

how your backyard hurricane go, the houston area? pretty good it doesn't seem

to be clear other than losing everything in my fridge and developing some mold around the windowframes IM personally fine and so are the girls and so is the lair. we lost power sunday afternoon and got it back friday morning (upside down smiley emoji x16)

listening

THREE CANONICALLY BISEXUAL CLUB BANGERS!!! also, trying out a new thing with spotify and youtube videos for songs bc my readership is about 70/30 and i want to streamline the process of actually listening to new music for ppl. it must be really annoying this week but that's bc there's three songs. sorry. it will rarely be this long

anyway.

ANXIETY by Lilyisthatyou is new to me, off the spotify autogenerated dance playlist. a chiller groove in the spelling-things-out genre of dance music. VERY flashy-lights music vid fyi

Why do I feel so alone? Does it show That I'm dancing to fill the void with pretty girls and pretty boys?

i know about kesha's joyride bc i happen to be an alive queer woman. im SO happy kesha is also alive and making music more regularly. this one is canonically bisexual bc kesha is bisexual. also a really flashy-lights lyric video. the most classically recession-pop/early KESHA sound of all three tuesdaysongs this week. im always fascinated when an accordion shows up.

Rev my engine ’til you make it purr Keep it kinky, but I come first Beep-beep, bitch, I'm outside Get in, loser, for the joyride

thank u new releases spotify playlist. also canonically bisexual bc the singer is, also an early KESHA feel but she is a metal artist first and foremost. very fun to headbang to at a stop light. i don't totally Love how it's an emasculating song but given how dudes in the metal scene generally are? i think she should make it more emasculating actually

Take you down a peg (And peg and peg and peg) If you're a macho man then beg (And beg and beg and beg) Bend you over the bed (The bed the bed the bed) It's time to take you down a peg (And peg and peg and peg)

-

reading

fun fact i still haven't seen this movie. i got this from the library the day before the hurricane proper and it gave me a really lovely two hours of not thinking about the active hurricane the day after. enormous format photographs! full-length shots of every look! ithe little personal notes from each designer were so fun to read, and i think this genuinely healed my heart a little. everyone was so excited to go into detail about what choices they made and what inspired them, and even though i would have loved more specific construction details, specific fiber types, and full-length shots of the Back of every look, i recognize i am a freak.

-

watching

watched a truly bonkers assortment of films at my bestie's house this week. her husband is big into godzilla and i sat down not really paying attention or planning to pay attention to Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire (2024, dir. Wingard) but found myself actually paying attention. i unfortunately was a character i hate, Person Who Stops The Movie Halfway Through To Demand A Recap. loved these guys, whatever the fuck they were

the most fun thing about this movie is that it is not a silent film but it acts like one. there are long, long stretches of movie without dialogue bc all the political action is happening between a bunch of giant monkeys. this is going to sound like im damning it with faint praise but they really thought carefully about directorial and artistic choices here! there was a vision and they executed it! it's fun to look at and not just because there's a big monkey in most of the shots!

-

playing

got a look at characters for the new fire-themed land coming up this fall. ppl are understandably big mad that the land is based on Ring of Fire cultures and everyone is paper-white. i think it is correct to be mad and ask them to do better, and they have tweaked designs before release before, however, i don't think this will bring about a sea change in gacha games.

i am rolling along clearing out map markers and achievement hunting and my GOD are there a lot of time-gated achievements in inazuma (electricity-themed legally-not-japan). so so so many of them i originally got halfway through or did 1/5 and then wandered off bc i didn't realize there was a quest or achievement locked behind doing something for three or five days in a row. i now have a post-it on the corner of my monitor with nine different things i have to keep checking in on this week. please someone give me a REAL JOB!!!!!!

-

making

cross stitch progress. this was the only thing i did last week aside from shake like a chihuahua and sleep. very slow going! may have to ship the package off to my brother with an IOU bc it is already stressfully late.

made the bean influencer soup (creamy miso coconut butter beans). i made a batch before the hurricane last week so most of my notes are from then. the grocery did not have canned butter beans so i made the same thing (big lima beans) from dry. i have not made beans from dry since i was very small. these beans were so large, so pale, so aggressive.

changes: i was able to find a little carton of straight coconut cream at the grocery but they were out of miso paste. i did have miso soup mix and plopped that in. i also used frozen spinch bc it’s cheaper and i felt better about it than the somewhat questionable fresh spinch on offer. also used two onions instead of one and a hearty dollop of minced jarred garlic bc who do u think i even fucking am. i would have loved to use fresh dill, bc i did plant some and it was growing very well, but the caterpillars were very intense and ate almost everything on my balcony.

going in the rotation! im making it AGAIN as im typing up this post! pretty cheap, very tasty, i don't regularly keep butter beans or coconut cream in my pantry but that can change!

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Hello and Welcome!

This is a blog dedicated to Journey to the West, where anyone interested may join in and follow along in a journey through Wu Cheng’en’s classic. This reading group will be focused on the Anthony C. Yu English translation, which the ever-interesting @journeytothewestresearch has helped provide completely free to download and read as pdfs! The link can be found below:

https://journeytothewestresearch.com/2019/06/07/archive-10-journey-to-the-west-2012-revised-edition/

In full awareness that everyone has their own busy lives and differing schedules, this reading group is working off of a “do-as-you-want” model. Everyone is welcome to submit their analysis, art, reactions, memes, criticisms, additions of context, etc. as we make our way through the journey, but there is no pressure but to have fun with the work!

That said, there is a reading schedule. This reading group has now made it through Volumes 1 and 2 of this classic, and will start up Volume 3 on September 15, 2024. The reading schedule encourages all interested to read one JTTW chapter per week. This group then "meets" every Sunday, which is be the day participants are encouraged to finish that week's chapter and/or submit their creative/analytical pieces about it. Sunday will also be the day where I will give a quick recap of that week's chapter, and will mass reblog anything participants submitted to have that work in the archive. Again, this blog has now made it through Volumes 1 and 2, and will start keeping to the reading schedule for Volume 3 starting September 15, so please have read “Chapter 51: Mind Monkey in Vain Uses a Thousand Tricks; Futile Water and Fire Make It Hard to Smelt Demons,” by then. You’ll find the reading schedule for Volume 3 below, and while not necessary I do encourage everyone to give a look at Yu’s introduction to this text in Volume 1 as well.

I want to end by stressing that it is completely understandable that new members would be concerned about joining after the reading schedule has officially started, and indeed after we have made it through the first volume. As such, I want to confirm that while this group encourages people to send in their submissions on Sunday for the chapter covered that week, you should feel completely free to both submit your stuff on any day of the week that’s best for you, as well as to send in art, memes, analysis, commentary, etc. for every chapter that has already been covered according to the reading schedule. In other words, all I’m going to ask is that your “late” submissions are in line with what happens in Volumes 1 and 2 and/or chapters in Volume 3 that the group has already read as laid out in the reading schedule below. So for example you should feel free to submit the sketches you made about Chapters 47, 48, 49, 50, and 51 on the Monday-Saturday of the week following the Sunday this book club finished Chapter 51, but please save your meme about Chapter 52 for the Sunday that chapter was scheduled to be read. So start, read, and submit as you can!

Thank you and thank you again to anyone who wants to participate anfd to everyone who has already expressed so much enthusiasm and contributed so much to this reading group! I’m very happy and excited to continue this literary pilgrimage with you all.

---

Journey to the West Volume 3 Reading Schedule

September 15-Chapter 51: Mind Monkey in vain uses a thousand tricks; Futile water and fire makes it hard to smelt demons

September 22-Chapter 52: Wukong greatly disturbed the Golden Helmet Cave; Tathagata reveals in secret the true master

September 29-Chapter 53: Imbibing, the Chan Lord conceives a ghostly child; Yellow Dame brings water to end the weird fetus

October 6-Chapter 54: Dharma-nature, going west, reaches the Women State; Mind Monkey makes a plan to flee the fair sex

October 13-Chapter 55: Deviant form makes lustful play for Tripitaka Tang; Upright nature safeguards the untainted self

October 20-Chapter 56: Wild Spirit slays brutish bandits; Wayward Way sets loose Mind Monkey

October 27-Chapter 57: True Pilgrim lays bare his woes at Mount Potalaka; False Monkey King transcribes texts at Water-Curtain Cave

November 3-Chapter 58: Two Minds cause disorder in the great Cosmos; It's hard for one body to realize true Nirvana

November 10-Chapter 59: Tripitaka Tang's path is blocked at Mountain of Flames; Pilgrim Sun baits for the first time the palm-leaf fan

November 17-Chapter 60: Bull Demon King stops fighting to attend a lavish feast; Pilgrim Sun baits for the second time the palm-leaf fan

November 24-Chapter 61: Zhu Eight Rules assists in deafeating the demon king; Pilgrim Sun baits for the third time the palm-leaf fan

December 1-Chapter 62: To wash off filth, to bate the mind, just sweep a pagoda; To bind demons and return to the lord is self-cultivation

December 8-Chapter 63: Two monks, quelling fiends, disturb the dragon palace; The sages, destroying deviates, acquire the treasures

December 15-Chapter 64: At Bramble Ride Wuneng exerted great effort; At Shrine of Sylvan Immortals Tripitaka discusses poetry

December 22-Chapter 65: Fiends set up falsely the Small Thunderclap; The four pilgrims all meet a great ordeal

December 29-Chapter 66: Many gods meet injury; Maitreya binds a fiend

January 5-Chapter 67: Having rescued Tuoluo, Chan nature is secure; Escaping filthiness, the Mind of Dao is pure

January 12-Chapter 68: At Scarlet-Purple Kingdom the Tang Monk speaks of past eras; Pilgrim Sun performs on an arm broken in three places

January 19-Chapter 69: At night the Lord of the Mind refines medicines; At a banquet the king speaks of the perverse fiend

January 26-Chapter 70: The monstrous demon's treasures release smoke, sand, and fire; Wukong by stratagem steals the purple-gold bells

February 2-Chapter 71: By a false name Pilgrim defeats the fiendish wolf; In epiphany Guanyin subdues the monster-king

February 9-Chapter 72: At Cobweb Cave Seven Passions delude the Origin; At Purgation Spring Eight Rules forgets all manners

February 16-Chapter 73: Passions, because of old enmity, beget calamity; Demon-trapped, the Mind Lord with luck breaks the light

February 22-Chapter 74: Long Life reports how vicious the demons are; Pilgrim displays his transformation power

March 2-Chapter 75: Mind Monkey drills through the yin-yang body; Demon lords return to the true great Way

[the-other-art-blog]

How can anyone honestly believe Cressida changed???

Sorry, but I do not buy the whole "my dad is mean and my mom pressures me so much and society puts me against women. so that's why I have been the biggest bitch for the last three years."

And it's very telling how some people are ready to forgive her, but they treat Pen as if she murdered someone and is beyond redemption.

May I remind you that Cressida was one of the people who judged Eloise and called her a "radical ruffian" after LW published her column about her.

Are we to believe that weeks later, she had an epiphany and decided to be kind to Eloise? No! She noticed the rift between Pen and Eloise and decided to go after El. She gets a Bton connection and leaves Pen alone and defenseless. Cressida has a direct beef with Pen, like all bullies she has a fixation against one person.

What's interesting is that despite their supposed tight friendship, El hasn't invited Cressida to have tea with the family every Sunday. It's like El knows that this is not a real friendship and Cressida will never replace Pen or at least whatever they have is not even close to what she had with Pen (I realize that this sounds like I'm talking about a romantic relationship, but so what, they're the second love story of s3). Also, the fact that the rest of the family hates Cressida doesn't help this relationship.

In 3x01 she bullied Pen TWICE. If El hadn't distracted her, Cressida would have said something mean to Pen. In fact, that's why El called her because she knew she was going to bully Pen. Then, obviously, during the ball, even El apologized to her.

Even in this gif below, and any other time, El looks embarrassed and regretful to be with Cressida. She is miserable and deep down (or maybe not so deep), she knows what she is doing is wrong.

I'm convinced that the only reason why Cressida did not spread Pen and Colin's deal was because El had already called her out on her bullying in ep1. When El tells her that Pen may have a chance with Debling, she laughs! Why Cressida, why is it so far-fetched that Pen may attract the attention of a wealthy lord?

Oh, but my favorite is when Cressida said she tried to befriend El in s2. Like hell she did! First, she mocked her when it seemed El had screwed up her meeting with the Queen. But when El charmed the Queen (ten seconds later), suddenly she's offering her "a spot "an opening" in her circle, as if friendship with her was a selected club where only the worthy ones had access (Blair Waldorf who? And yes, it's an insult).

Cressida also complains about her lack of proposals as if she were a poor debutante who never got the chance to attract a suitor. The reality is that as the beautiful and popular single daughter of a lord, Cressida could have gotten married quickly. She didn't because even the horrible men of the ton could not stand her. Madame Delacroix said it in s1:

But to me, the biggest clue that she is still the ton's biggest bitch is her promo video. This last bit tells me that she's still the same.

Now, I'll be discussing spoilers for episodes 5 and 6 (because there's no way to avoid them unless you go offline). So, if you don't want to know, stop reading.

I will also be discussing potential spoilers that relate to s4.

You're reading this at your own risk!

So according to the ss that I've seen of ep 5 and 6 and the teaser, they are following the storyline from RMB where Cressida lies and tells everyone she is LW. In the book Lady D offers a reward, in the show, it will be the Queen. We know that Lord Cowper is practicing some economic violence by restricting Lady Cowper and Cressida's allowance until C marries someone wealthy. 5000 pounds is a huge amount of money in Regency England, so C will want it, plus all the attention from it. I don't know much else because I did not watch the recap videos. But this shows she's still an awful person.

Onto Benophie rumors.

Ready?

It is widely believed that the Cowpers are Sophie's family. Why? Because Lady Cowper's given name is Araminta. There were also mentions in s2 that Lady Cowper stole a servant from another house, something the Araminta of AOFAG did. That and a few comments on ig posts that mention Sophie were liked by the actresses. I'm very confident with this theory, especially with the amount of screen time the Cowpers have this season, including their domestic life. I'm sure Sophie is there working as a maid. I don't know if she is Lord Cowper's illegitimate daughter, but somehow she ended up there.

Behind the scenes, this is a recurring change adaptations use to economize in characters. The Cowpers and the Gunningworths can blend into one easily. Plus, imo, the Featheringtons already give the evil step-sisters vibe that would seem repetitive to people who haven't watched the show. They would seem to be mere replacements for the Featheringtons after they leave the show in s3.

If so, then Cressida fits the Rosamund character perfectly. Both are ultra-mean women, both spinsters, both capable of being cruel to someone like Sophie.

What about Posy? Here's where things get complicated, some believe that Cressida's redemption arc will make her a combination of Rosamund AND Posy. I think that is an absurd idea since as this post argues, there's no such redemption arc. Posy is a beautiful character who suffered domestic abuse from the very people who should have loved her. And I do not trust anyone who villanizes her for not speaking up earlier. She was the bravest person in the book for stepping up and defending Sophie, even at the risk of suffering Araminta's wrath. If Violet hadn't adopted her, who knows what would have happened to her.

I'm open to changing my mind after watching part 2, but right now, I would rather lose Posy completely in the show than give Cressida traits of her personality. Let her live in the books with her vicar! If Sophie has to lose her sole source of kindness in her house (aside from the servants), like Pen lost Felicity, then so be it.

ONE LAST THING: IF YOU HAVE MORE DETAILED SPOILERS, DO NOT SHARE THEM HERE, PLEASE!!!!! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANY MORE OF THE SEASON UNTIL I WATCHED IT ON JUNE 13TH. DON'T MESSAGE ME OR REPLY WITH SPOILERS.

WHOEVER SHARES MORE SPOILERS HERE WILL BE BLOCKED AND YOUR REPLY DELETED

[ofmdrecaps]

08/31/2024 - 09/01/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Samba Schutte; Kristian Nairn; Vico Ortiz; Guz Khan; Happy DickFuck/Be A Lighthouse Day!; Bisexual Awareness Month; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Be a Lighthouse!; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

Hey friends, things are slowly progressing on things with my dad and his surgery recovery. Each day things get a little better but it's gonna be a really long road to recovery. Hopefully we're out of the worst of it. I'm still gonna try to keep up with recap stuff as best I can, but they'll probably still be late because of the uncertainty of timing right now. Thank you all so much for all the kind words and well wishes and all the patience. I hope you're staying well <3

== Taika Waititi ==

More Taika out with VasJMorgan and Rita and friends in Ibiza back in August.

Source: VasJMorgan's Instagram

== Con O'Neill ==

Con's done with vacation in Mexico! Hope it was relaxing!

Source: Con's Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

Hey! Samba's gonna be on the Geekspace podcast again for his new movie Advanced Chemistry! You can check the episode out on spotify below!

Samba was also out to visit his extended family in Holland!

Source: Samba's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Reminder, you can still get signed copies of Kristian's book coming out this month on his Linktr.ee! https://linktr.ee/kristiannairn Kristian was featured in a Polygon article about his new book! Full link and highlights below.

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico's film Lesbophila was chosen as the Official Selection for Long Beach Film Festival 2024! Sunday the 9th, at 1:15 pm they'll be in the "Women In Shorts" block. You can get tickets here.

Source: LesbophiliaFilm Instagram

== Guz Khan ==

Some love from a fan for Guz <3

Source: Guz's Instagram stories

== Happy DickFuck Day ==

Thank you to the awesome ofmdnocontext on instagram for the fabulous stills for this, September 1st (on an actual leap year!) aka DickFuck Day! Also known as Be A Lighthouse days by some as well!

Source: OFMDNoContext Instagram

== Bisexual Awareness Month ==

Happy Bisexual Awareness month to all our lovely Bi+ Crew members! Please know my dear lovelies, you are valid and you are seen. It doesn't matter who you're in a relationship with, or what sexual experiences you've had. You're valid in your sexuality and romantic attractions. Love you friends! For those not already aware, Bi+ represents the the bisexual community, also known as the bi+, m-spec, bisexual/pansexual, or bi/pan/fluid community, which includes members of the LGBT community who identify as bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, polysexual and sexually fluid (source).

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Queer Chameleon (@queeeerchameleon)

Source: QueeerChameleon on Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

I'm very behind again on the cast cards by the brilliant @melvisik! First up! We have Scott Marsh, another of our stunt performers, and Jacob Tomuri, one of our stunt coordinators!

Next up is Alexa Stollmeyer, a visual effects coordinator and Cynthia Pusheck, one of our S1 Cinemtographers!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

New Epitizer available this week from Our Flag Means Fanfiction! "Close to Home" by our beloved @xoxoemynn! Read by @babykrakenpodfics!

Source: OFMFF Instagram

= Be A Light House =

In honor of Sept 1/2, Just a quick reminder that our amazing friend @blueberreads released this fabulous Be A Lighthouse- a Monkey Island Inspired point and click game! If you havent played it yet, please check it out here!

Source: Blueberreads Twitter

PS: I wanted to spotlight OFMD Smaugust works since it's the end of the month but I've been swamped with family stuff. It'll be late, but it's coming!

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, hopefully life is treating you well. I hope you're getting a day off this Monday, but if not, please remember to take some time another day to rest if you can. Rest is so incredibly important. We need it to be able to recover from the crazyness that is our everyday lives. We all deal with a lot, and no one knows the extent at which we go through things, so you have to be your own advocate sometimes when it comes to rest. You deserve rest, no matter what you got done today, no matter how much you had the day before. Sending love and good vibes your way, and a couple extra love notes. You're powerful, and wonderful, and kind, and you deserve the best, lovelies.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Barbara ✨🐞 (@joyfulsmolthings)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Case Kenny (@case.kenny)

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Idk about the theme today, I was going through gifs and my son really laughed at these two, so he helped pick them out tonight. Gifs courtesy of the darling @sherlockig and @brizzystar

[guiltyasdave]

every sunday i like to do a little recap of all the fics i’ve read and loved this week, so here we go!

pleaseeee if you read any of these, show the writers some love by commenting, reblogging, sending asks, all the fun stuff <3

a list of all my recs ever can be found right here :)

dividers by @enchanthings 🫶🏻

i'm organizing the fics by character and adding emojis to indicate the contents a little. still, please look at the tags/warnings and decide for yourself if something might not be for you. what we don't do is harass the writers about it.

💘= fluff • ❤️‍🔥= smut • 🤍= angst • 🖤= dark

📖= oneshot • 📚= series

dave york

tainted heart by @sizzlingcloudmentality ❤️‍🔥🖤📖

ezra

the green by @toxicanonymity ❤️‍🔥🖤📖

frankie morales

do me yourself by @undercoverpena 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

struggling to stand by @novemberrain-writes 🤍📖

javier peña

eyes open, ambulance is almost here by @novemberrain-writes 🤍📖

scathed by @dancingtotuyo 💘🤍🖤📚

joel miller

feral woman by @gasolinerainbowpuddles 💘❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

you’re a prize by @undercoverpena 💘📖

meet me in the back by @atticrissfinch 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

decode by @swiftispunk 💘❤️‍🔥📖 (for now)

alcohol as sanitizer by @novemberrain-writes 🤍📖

brat! by @shellshocklove ❤️‍🔥📖

too sweet by @mrsmando 💘❤️‍🔥📖

dress up joel by @covetyou 💘❤️‍🔥📚

marcus moreno

crash by @ezrasbirdie 💘❤️‍🔥📚

max phillips

crawl by @proxima-writes ❤️‍🔥📖

my own writing

sweet nothing — javier peña x f!reader 🤍📖