#this isn’t a rhetorical question like what the fuck else do they do

[sciencussy]

What do mosquitoes do except exist in a niche that no other creature wants to fill?

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can��t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[soft-persephone]

A Fresh Start 3

T // WC: 1.6k // masterlist // series masterlist //

“Hey,” MM said casually walking in with bags of food Monique told him to bring, “Where are the girls?”

These days instead of asking for Janine, he was asking after both her and her new friends Monice. The pair are now inseparable.

“Outside with the rest of the kids.” She smirked, pointing her head to the glass windows that gave an overlook of the backyard. Decorated with oversized picnic blankets, fancy plastic silverware and platters to match with the fanciest little snacks and pastries, a foldable table was to the side, filled with various drinks. “Apparently, a day at the pool isn’t enough.”

He smiled as he looked out, leaning against the kitchen counter.

The kids were running around and giggling, fully enthralled by whatever game they had made up. Evidence of food, or whatever was left of it were littered about on the highly decorated plastic platters filled with crumbs, empty boards, and a wooden board with a few stray pieces of cheese. The little sweaty blocks forgotten.

“If they all ate what are the burgers for?”

“You,” Monique pointed. “and her mostly.” You were passed out on the couch. From the slow rise and fall of your chest, and how loosely taught your face was pulled into something soft and smooth. . . peaceful.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew about your brother. The unexpectedness of taking care of your child and battling whether or not you’ll lose a family member or not.

“You need to be careful.” Monique gave him a look.

His eyebrows furrowed.

‘What are you talking about?”

“Marvin,” she sighed with a hint of frustration. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was there, “How long have I known you?”

He wasn’t sure where this energy was coming from, but he knew when she was asking a rhetorical question. He looked at her expectantly, throwing his hands in the air to show his defeat and wait for her to respond.

“Just because we’re over doesn’t mean I don’t know how you look when you have feelings for someone? Hell, anybody might be able to tell by the way you look at her,” she said pointedly, “and I’m not judging.” She quickly added. “I’m actually really happy for you. It’s time you moved on too. I’m not sure what you're sitting on your hands and waiting around for, but it's obvious.”

He nodded. Her words were unintentionally digging. He wasn’t sure why, but they did.

“Monique, this is. . . She’s different. It’s different.” Fuck he sounded a mess. His words weren’t coming together. He didn’t want to have this conversation, least of all with Monique of all people.

“Just do whatever you did to get me. You're not a bad guy, Marvin,” she huffed out a laugh, “I’d say more but I’m the last person who needs to be singing your praises, and you don’t need anyone to either.” She smacked her teeth.

“We were different.” He shook his head. “It was just me and you back then, but now I’m divorced, I have a daughter who's amazing. . .shit job. . . . but it’s not me I’m worried about,” he looked over at you, still soundly asleep.

You’d been through enough. The last thing you probably wanted was something new.

“You need to be careful.”

“I know,” he huffed, “the thing with her brother, she’s now got a kid, her life’s been turned upside down and she’s grieving—“

“And the last thing she needs is your unresolved shit affecting what she’s already going through.”

“I know,” he said slowly, “that’s why I said that it’s different.”

“How? Because it was so easy for me to accept your bullshit?” She said with an edge.

He winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He apologized. There’s not much else he can say about it, conversation ending itself.

“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you right now–’

“And we don't have to. We’re not fighting.”

She gave him a look and he only raised his eyebrows.

“You can’t hide it forever.”

She didn't give him a chance to respond, making her way over to you. She rubbed gently at your back in small circular movements.

You opened your eyes with a frown. Your brows scrunched together before blearily falling into a neutral expression.

“What time is it?” you stretched.

“Food’s here.” was all Monique said, holding back a smile.

“You didn't wake me when the food got here.” you said pointedly, your voice starting to raise.

“It just got here, and I just woke you up!”

‘No you didn't!” your face pulled into a pout. “It smells cold. You did not wake me as soon as it got here!”

“It smells cold!” She laughed with a perplexed look, “How does food smell cold?”

“Don’t play dumb, Monique.” You huffed, making your way to the kitchen and carefully taking the bun of your burger as well as the cold toppings before putting the rest in the microwave, “it’s not cute.”

Beginning the process of getting your onion rings to put them in the air fryer, you finally noticed him. As smoke spreads across your face. It was the same smoke that always graced its features whenever you first saw him. It never failed to pull at his heart and pull the corners of his lips if not a bit more guarded.

Your warmth was intoxicating.

“Did you bring food?”

“You asked me too.” He said matter of factly with a smile.

“No I didn’t.” You smiled back, looking back at Monique, and then back to him.

“Yes,” he laughed, “you did.”

“You did.” Monique raised her eyebrows.

“I literally have no memory of that ever happening.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Monique raised a finger.

“Eat your food before it gets cold again.” He stopped you from responding to that, knowing how you can get.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Leave me alone.”

“What are you so tired for anyway?” He asked, genuinely intrigued, but you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, your mouth full.

“She’s been up since 2 AM, making the fanciest picnic feast for a bunch of soon to be third graders that don’t deserve it.” Monique answered for you, stealing an onion ring off your plate.

You mean mugged her and pulled up a fist like you were going to hit her, bust Monique only cackled at you. With a huff you sat at the island to eat.

You swallowed the food in your mouth with a frown.

“They do deserve it. Momo and Janine really wanted it and making some food and throwing a picnic blanket on the grass isn’t hard.” You said placidly.

“So pulling Momo out of bed at 2 AM to be here by 3:00 to cook up until 7:00, still decorate the yard, get Momo dressed, and then clean the kitchen,” she listed each in a finger, “ is not hard work?”

“No you shook your head with a smile, “I mean I guess it is, but I like making Momo happy. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s for her.”

Marvin noticed your smile was not as genuine as it was before. How your shoulders were slightly tense as you shrugged them. Your eyes glossed over briefly with a terse gaze, squirming slightly.

To anyone else you’d look fine, but he had a trained eye. He didn’t know you well enough to say something about, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend like he didn’t know something was off with you. He’d usually be on his game about that, but everything about you threw him off.

He ignored the way Monique looked at him because even if she couldn’t notice something was off with you, she knew how to tell things were off with him.

“There’s nothing wrong with going above and beyond for your kid. It’s natural,” he phrased, licking his lips, “but you still need to take care of yourself. You’re just as important.”

“. . .yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll do better at that.” You purse your lips. “For the school year.” You ended definitively, strategically ending the conversation.

He wasn’t having any of it. Opening his mouth he was going to push back. Confront you on your answer and insist you not way so long even if the school year was weeks away at this point. Perhaps just one month away would be more accurate, but Monique gave him a look.

He’d have to talk to you about it alone.

Whenever that would be, he didn’t know. He bit back a sigh. Not wanting to let you know something was up.

You were practically done with your burger, a few bites left, but you’re eyes were fluttering shut. Your fist propping up your head.

“You’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

“Why would I do that?” You questioned like it wasn’t obvious.

“You can’t drive home in the state your in.” He scolded, “you can’t even stay awake to eat your food.”

“I’m done eating!” You waved a hand at your plate. “Maybe I was just resting my eyes!” You defend with an actual roll of your eyes.

“Well you can keep resting them on that couch over there for the night.”

“No,” you defiantly stood up and crossed your arms, “I’m going home!”

“I don’t know how you’re getting there since your not driving, and I’m not taking you.”

You huffed, turning towards Monique.

“He’s right.” She gave you a look, much kinder than how you’ve been looking at him the whole time he’s been here.

“Ughhh,” you groaned going back to the couch and aggressively lying down and pulling the blanket over you, “leave me alone, and don’t wake me up,” you huffed, “I’ll wake up whatever time I want to tomorrow and I don’t want to hear anybody complain.”

[writing-for-life]

Give me your head-canons:

How do you solve the Orpheus problem?

[And as always: Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!]

As in: It’s the elephant in the room in so many canon-compliant or -adjacent fanfics I read (we obviously don’t need to talk about coffee shop AUs) and Orpheus either keeps on existing somehow (and no one cares, because Dream and whatever love interest just literally fuck off into the sunset and pretend everything’s okay), or he gets killed by someone else who quite strictly wouldn’t be able to kill him.

Is it a solvable problem?

If he keeps existing as a severed head, it’s honestly a bit shite for him, isn’t it? So these are the fics where we keep on visiting severed heads. I don’t know, I find that… dissatisfying.

If Dream kills him, it’s over. Unless he stays in the Dreaming and lets the storm blow over. Will it though? I mean yeah, he could sit there for all eternity (groan), not take Death’s hand and make sure he doesn’t conveniently leave so the Kindly Ones get in and start ripping the Dreaming to shreds. But that doesn’t really sound like a solution to me either, because the problem won’t go away. Also: Probably no meetings in the waking world with you-know-who ever again. Plot hole, people, it doesn’t work that way.

If someone else kills him: Who? Please don’t say Hob, I know he’s immortal (so was Murphy), but the very idea is that no one can kill the poor kid because he made a deal with Death, which she apparently can’t revoke. Is there an entity who could? Which links in to the question: Why could Dream (somewhat rhetorical question)? Could any similar entity do it if they also had to grant him a boon? But don’t forget: Can’t be one of the Endless, they’re all family. Unless one sacrifices themselves. I mean, I think I’ve seen Death doing that in a fic somewhere, I think the assumption was she’s okay with dying a mortal death, but I also felt that’s not quite right, since it’s just not the same (also: in her mortal form, she wouldn’t have those powers). Does it have to be The Presence/Glory? Why would they care?

Yeah, he could use the Saeculum I guess, but really? If the problem never existed, it would also feel… wrong? Plus, we all know that changing the past always has implications on the future that go far beyond the thing we want to change. Plus plus: I honestly think it would be a bit OOC for him because he’d feel there’s not enough at stake (like a whole universe imploding) to ever justify that. So no, that’s, IMHO, making him into someone he really isn’t (can of course be an option in fanfic I guess).

Same goes for the Dream of a Thousand Cats Spiel. Someone who is so wrapped up in his duty just wouldn’t do that for his own personal gain, and not even for one loved one (he also wouldn’t be allowed to kick it off by telling anyone, and what 1,000 dreamers would dream that? I mean, WE all would, but that’s a bit… meta?😂). I said what I said.

Or is it some sort of magic? Like, he’s still a severed head, but we make him *think* he isn’t, give him back a body (in his own mind, or maybe even for real)? But that’s also… not great and feels like gaslighting him. Really not keen.

So what say you?

Is this just a case of: Unsolvable problem, hence we might as well pretend we solve it in some ridiculous way or pretend it doesn’t exist in the first place?

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

nsfw alphabet with claire

A is for aftercare - Claire is super proactive in terms of aftercare. She’ll ask you if you want something to drink or a snack, and when you tell her “oh, it’s fine, I can get it myself”, she’s already downstairs grabbing you a glass of water. Like, the question was rhetorical. She’s taking care of you whether you like it or not.

B is for body part - Claire likes her own tits, but not more than she likes yours. Like, hers are perfectly shaped and mid-size, and she knows they look good. But, she’s a tits woman - ALL sizes, shapes, colors, she wants them.

C is for cum - With Claire, it really depends on what her partner wants. It doesn’t really matter who cums when or how because it’s gonna happen more than once with her (as long as you’re able because she won’t push you further than your limits). So long as her partner isn’t overstimulated, she’s not stopping until they cum.

D is for dirty secret - Once (similar to Jill), Claire stole Chris’ boyfriend, but it was an accident.

E is for experience - Claire actually has a fair amount of experience (a lot of it was from her college years). When she gets older, she tends to be less into one night stands or friends with benefits situations, she’d prefer to be in a relationship.

F is for favorite position - She likes to be on top, like, riding the strap or the dick is her jam.

G is for goofy (silly or serious during sex) - Claire might make a flirtatious joke occasionally during sex or if something silly happens, instead of letting you get embarrassed, she’d make a joke to lighten the mood.

H is for hair - Claire likes to shave it all off. She would get a bikini wax for a special occasion but in general, she’d prefer to shave it herself because she thinks getting a professional wax is an unnecessary expense.

I is for intimacy - With a long-term partner, she can definitely be intimate. Vulnerability is something that’s important to her. It’s not just sexual either, she loves to (especially after sex) lay in bed naked with you and tell each other personal stories. She’s very willing to open up with someone she trusts. 

J is for jack off - Probably does it an average amount, but has high-quality vibrators (she will use them on you, too).

K is for kink - I think she would enjoy blindfolding a partner, and could maybe tie them up (but only if they wanted it). She could also be convinced into letting you do it too.

L is for location - She prefers to do it at home because she has her toys there and can do more physically in terms of positions.

M is for motivation - I feel like her mind would wander and she’d remember something that you two did together and would be unable to focus on anything else until she got to see you and re-enact that memory.

N is for no (what she wouldn't do) - She doesn’t like spit, and isn’t into degradation (at least, she wouldn’t like to be degraded, but could maybe be convinced to degrade you a little bit if you wanted it).

O is for oral - Both. It’s equal for her. Loves to give and receive. Would 69 despite the complexities of that position. 

P is for pace - I think she’s into medium to fast paced sex. If you’re on top, she’ll let you control the pace, but if she’s on top, she would probably speed things up.

Q is for quickie - Yes, she likes them, though prefers them at home. If either one of you has to leave the house soon, she’d love the challenge of trying to fuck before you have to go.

R is for risk - While she’s definitely into trying new things, I don’t think she likes to do things that could get anyone injured or arrested. 

S is for stamina - Has great stamina. I think she could cum quickly/make you cum quickly, but then would want to go for another round.

T is for toys - Queen of toys. Loves using them when she’s by herself, but also likes to use them on you, especially if she can use a vibrator in conjunction with her mouth/hand. 

U is for unfair (how much she teases) - I think she’d tease you in public - sending you a sexy text, whispering something in your ear, “accidentally” touching you.

V is for volume - She’s kind of loud, but her moans are really pretty.

W is for wild card (random headcanon) - Claire has had threesomes before and really enjoyed them. As much as she loves being with someone monogamously, she’s not overly possessive because she trusts you. So, if you’d be into bringing someone else into the bedroom, she’d think it’d be really hot to have both her and the other person pleasure you. 

X is for x-ray (what she's got under those clothes) - Women are gorgeous. I do think she has round tits that are even, though, so I will give you that much.

Y is for yearning - She definitely thinks about you and will text you/call you to remind you that. She’d be like “thinking of you” with a kissing face emoji (gen x behavior), and then send you a sexy pic.

Z is for zzz -  She likes to fall asleep at the same time after doing some aftercare and having a late night chat.

[kiwiana-writes]

hey! I recently discovered your writing and I really love it but I have to ask you a question. you seem to write a lot of kink and I love that but: are you into pet play? it's a boundary for me for authors not to be into kinks that skirt around illegal acts so if you could let me know if your work is safe for me to read that would be great. thanks!

I got this last night and didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with it, and now I’m running on like 4.5 hours sleep, so… I’m going to treat this more as a general PSA than anything else.

So:

1) If your concern is that at some point in some hypothetical future I may write Kink X, Trope Y, Pairing A/Z, or anything along those lines, and me doing so would make you regret interacting with any of my previous work: please assume that I may do so, and curate your experience accordingly. I’ve written a bunch of things that I have, at some point in my life, said “I don’t think I’ll ever write that”—not because I was being a dirty liar, but because things change. There are also things I have written in the past that I have no plans to write in the future. Tastes shift over time, and so does what feels easy/fun to write; not to mention some things just hit different with different ships.

2) If your concern is more rooted in whether I think it’s fine for other people to write Kink X, Trope Y, Pairing A/Z, or anything along those lines—you should ABSOLUTELY assume the answer is “yes” and proceed accordingly. There are a whole bunch of kinks, tropes, and ships I am simply not into that exist on a continuum from “not my jam but if I writer I love tackles it I’m at least willing to give it a go” through to “if I never see evidence that this exists again it will be too soon”, but I do not believe that my personal tastes or sensibilities should be the yardstick by which fics are allowed or not allowed to be written. My personal tastes and sensibilities are the yardstick by which I READ fics, because I am in complete control of my own fandom experience.

3) If the information you need to proceed is what I am personally into, you can in fact fuck off. You are not entitled to this information. Kink writers are not required to disclose their kinks to you, in the same way you shouldn’t be demanding anyone’s sexuality/gender/trauma to determine whether they’re ‘allowed’ to write about a particular topic. I have been dealing with this shit on and off for YEARS, both from a ‘how dare you get turned on by this’ angle and from a ‘how dare you write this if you’re NOT turned on by this’ angle, and both takes are invasive and obnoxious. This is, incidentally, why I really hate the rhetoric of “the hottest fics are the ones the author wrote with one hand haha”—both because it’s really fucking weird to speculate on the sexual proclivities of someone who is usually a stranger, and because in my experience it simply isn’t true. I have really successful kink fics that are kinks I’m into and really successful kink fics that are things that don’t do it for me; I have less successful kink fics that I personally find really hot and less successful ones that I don’t. I have personal kinks and fetishes I’ve never written and probably never will (although, see point 1) because I worry that readers will perceive me a little too much. The only thing you’ll learn about my relationship to kink from reading my fics is the things I find psychologically interesting to write about.

4) I have fundamentally zero interest in debating the ~ethics~ of any particular kink, in fiction or otherwise, but I absolutely recommend perfecting the art of being squicked out or even disgusted by something without attaching any moral superiority to that feeling.

Like… curate your own experience, my friend. If you need to block me, block me. That’s cool. If you’re a regular reader/commenter/someone I interact with on tumblr dot com I’ll be sad to see you go, but you gotta do what you gotta do to make fandom fun and comfortable for you. But I tag my kink fics, so the ones that yuck your personal yum should be pretty easy for you to avoid.

[painterofhorizons]

Arcturus Station, 2179 CE

Little words were spoken in the night of the promotion, and none of them were appropriate.

They had been sitting there in silence, glaring at each other, their drinks, and the rest of the bar, earning non-existing worst possible customer awards.

There wasn’t much to say, anyways. They barely knew each other, barely liked each other, and while the cause of their gathering looked like a state occasion on the face of it, it fucked them both up equally, just for different reasons. Jeff, because it was once again someone else getting the out of prison ticket away from this damn space station. And Reda because, well, all of this was just one unmatched big fucking shit show. So there wasn’t really much to talk about.

But at least the supplies kept coming. If nothing else, Reda made sure that their glasses didn’t run empty – that was, what the Captain expected from her after all, wasn’t it? Having a good time? Celebrating? Or at least drinking the fucking misery away to be up for duty the next day without being a fucking grump about it? Something from that list, for sure.

But she didn’t feel grumpy, or victorious, or happy. She didn’t even feel angry. She just felt plainly wrong.

It was so fucking ridiculous.

So keeping the flow steady was the only good she could do that night – and at least she outdid herself in that regard.

Jeff didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem to care, either.

They were at their fourth or fifth round that night – Reda couldn’t tell, nor what they were drinking exactly. She went the direct route, just ordering the green, the blue, the yellow – right now the second shade of violet, which didn’t taste any better or worse or different than the first one, but had some kind of different name – she couldn’t bring herself to care for the taste, but was still sober enough to slowly get grumpy about the fact that all the colorful stuff just didn’t do it’s fucking job. Sliding over the next glass to Jeff, she snorted.

“There are some really angry worms outside. You’re lucky they keep you around here.”

Jeff knitted his brows. “What?”

“Worms”, Reda repeated unbothered. “Fucking huge, fucking angry, fucking worms. Fucking, probably.”

Jeff couldn’t follow. “Worms.”

Reda looked through the bar that was mostly filled with Alliance personnel. Most of them were sitting around tables like Jeff and her, drinking and talking. It was a pretty depressing place, if one wanted to let loose and enjoy oneself in other ways than just pouring down booze.

“Know how long it takes to eat fifty Marines?”

She forestalled Jeff’s question by adding the answer to her rhetorical question.

“Seventeen minutes.”

The frown on Jeff’s forehead grew. He must have missed the part where their non-existent conversation slipped from small talk to whatever this was. “The fuck?”

Reda’s voice was as stoic as her face, not showing a hint of an emotion. “It takes seventeen minutes. I call that efficient.”

“You’re talking about Akuze?”, Jeff stated the obvious, baffled by how they went from here to there absolute cold turkey. It didn’t necessarily catch him off-guard, but it sure as fuck wasn’t how he’d expected to hear about Akuze from her tonight.

“Seventeen minutes. And they give me a medal for the fucking efficiency of fucking big angry worms. Great, isn’t it?”

Jeff didn’t know what she wanted him to say, so he decided keeping all options open and not giving any direct backtalk was the best strategy. “I guess?”

Reda snorted and downed her glass of unidentifiably violet liquid.

Time for some orange.

[eternalreap]

Trouble Waits For A Victim. — Nigel x Alex.

Ship: Nigel Colbie + Alex Forbes.

Warnings: Violence, Blood.

Summary: What if Alex found Nigel in his room instead of outside after Susan’s death?

Words: 783.

Notes: Hello Like Minds fandom. It’s me, Chase. (again!!). I posted this fic on Ao3, but decided to post it here too to get a bit more reach. This is pretty short as it’s a oneshot, but i hope you enjoy either way. <3

After a bit of looking for the boy, and a lot of furious questions, Alex inevitably found Nigel in his room. He was sitting at his desk, a new set up, with a roommate other than him now. his taxidermy bullshit was scattered all across the desk he was seated at.

Nigel turned around, whether out of surprise or something else, he didn’t know. All he knew is that he had that cold look on his pale face, so uncaring, and it fucking infuriated him.

Alex edged closer in a spurt of anger, hastily grabbing onto Nigel’s collar and hoisting the other up to be at face view to him.

“What’d you do with the knife?” Alex growled, and Nigel’s blank expression immediately turned to blatant bashfulness. “I sense some hostility.” The raven haired boy smiled, in an odd tone that Alex didn’t hear Nigel often use. It was almost… flirty.

“What do you reckon?” Alex asked, a rhetorical question. “Do you think i should tell them?” Nigel wonders, his tone nonchalant, still not caring how Alex could hurt him at any given moment.

Nigel tsks. “I mean, you were the last person to see her, Jack.” He pouts, and Alex can feel the others breath dancing along his face. “Poor fair maiden. I can’t believe what’s happened.” Nigel sounds like he’s trying to etch some sympathy into his voice, but it sounds forced and fake. It probably sounds fake on purpose. Nigel just loved playing with his mind, apparently.

“You did it, didn’t you?” Alex shakes Nigel, trying to get the answer out of him. It is then that Nigel leans in close by his ear, his breath tickling the skin on his neck and causing goosebumps to form. “No, Jack. You did it.”

Alex feels intense rage shoot through him, and he does what any sane person would do in that moment. He punches Nigel in the face.

He watches as blood dribbles out of the others nose, and even mouth. Nigel spits it out and slowly runs his tongue over his teeth.

“How could you do this? Fucking killed her.” Alex almost shouts, grabbing Nigel’s collar once again. “Feels good to vent one’s anger, doesn’t it, Jack?” Nigel asks, nearly teasingly, like he wants Alex to hit him more.

And that he does.

Alex slaps the guy hard in the face, then kicks him in his stomach and Nigel falls to the ground. Nigel groans, but still isn’t very phased. Alex will make him care if it’s the last thing he does.

“Hit me, Jack.” Nigel chokes out, and Alex feels his eyes go a bit wide. “It’s good, isn’t it? So fucking hit me.” Alex straddles Nigel, his legs clinging to his sides as he grips onto the boy’s throat, successfully shutting him up.

The dark haired boy looks completely ruined like this. his pupils blown wide, whether in pain or pleasure, Alex has no idea. It’s most likely both, he distantly thinks. Just as Nigel is about to pass out, Alex lets go, releasing the strong pressure on his throat. Nigel takes a few ragged breaths, his face flushed from the lack of oxygen to his brain, his hair messy across his forehead, tears falling down his face from getting his nose punched.

It’s Alex who feels like he’s choking now, their faces so close he can feel Nigel’s breath on his lips instead of his neck this time, huffing out in rapid succession. “I know you feel it.” Nigel breathed, his tone almost whiny. “It’s so invigorating.”

“Shut up.” Alex says, and punches Nigel in the jaw. he can see the beginning of a bruise coming in on the side of his face. “Fuck.” The pale boy groaned, his hand coming up to grip his face in pain. More tears released from his eyes and dripped down his cheeks, but his expression was unmoving and set in stone.

Blood pooled down his chin, his lips so red and metallic. Alex felt the need to do something, but just stared, their faces still centimeters apart.

A hungry look consumed Nigel’s features as Alex stayed frozen. Nigel leaned forward, catching Alex’s lips in a searing kiss. It was messy and uncaring, but neither seemed to care, just engrossed in the want, the need.

Alex let his tongue dance along Nigel’s lips, finally tasting the blood coming out of his mouth. He let his hand come up to bury his hand in Nigel’s dark hair, pulling and giving Nigel what he wants; pain.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Three: Truth

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4032

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, lots of bickering, violence, a wee bit scary but i'm not that great of a writer lmao

[A/N: I didn't expect anyone to think this story was even mildly okay and I can't believe the support I'm getting here, thank you all so so much. I have so much in store for this story and I hope you stick with me :)]

Truth

Steve could feel the wind whipping at his face, stood at the garage door with his bat clutched tightly in one hand.

The door had been smashed into splinters, scrapes of blood marking the broken pieces. Mr Albright, his neighbour turned freaky demo-monster, had created that. Or at least that was the running theory. Steve shuddered at the thought that something else had been parading around his house.

“He did this?” You ask, stood beside him with an uneasy expression.

“I think so.” He voices, gulping.

“What happened to him?” You frown, biting your lip. “To him. To Holloway? And that- that thing back at the school, what even was that?”

“I-”

“And their mouths.” You breathe, ignoring Steve’s attempts at replying. “They were so similar, right? They just seemed so... possessed. And if it happened to them, who’s to say it hasn’t happened to more people! What if Hawkins is just swarming with tons of people- no, monsters, what if-”

“Hey!” Steve raises his voice and your mouth snaps shut, looking very furious at his action. He raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry. But you spiralling out of control isn’t gonna solve anything.”

“Fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “And, pray tell, do you have any ideas on what the hell is happening to our town?”

It was meant as a rhetoric question, but Steve’s face said all it needed to, your hard stare softening into something more curious, afraid.

“What do you know?” You question with a step closer and he tightens his jaw, glancing to the broken door.

He wasn’t safe here anymore. And he needed the people that could give him answers, and a chance at fighting this plague of creatures washing over their town.

“You’re heading to your dad’s cabin, right?” He ignores your question and you shake your head, confused.

“Yeah, but-”

“I’ll explain on the way.” He announces, walking away from you. “There’s a bag by the door, grab some food from the kitchen and I’ll get some stuff we’ll need from upstairs.”

He’s already jogging up the stairs before he finishes his sentence, leaving you stood there dumbfounded. You didn’t like that he was ordering you around, not one bit, but the idea itself sounded realistic. You’ll need supplies, just in case.

Great, you thought, reluctantly dragging yourself to the front door and spotting the bag, he’s coming with me now.

You’re rooting through cupboards, determinedly ignoring the mutant corpse led on the other side of the island, as you curse under your breath.

The walk to the cabin shouldn’t take you that long, half an hour at tops. But the thought of spending that time with Steve was going to be as intolerable as it could get. You betted that you wouldn’t last five minutes until the knife in your hand started to feel like a chance of relief.

You and Steve Harrington on the road of survival. Could it get much worse?

It was worse than you thought.

Barely two minutes had ticked by before you and Steve broke out into an argument, your stubborn and needy mind getting the better of you.

“You said you were going to tell me on the way.” You point out, gesturing to the street around you, “Well here we are! On the way.”

“Jesus Christ, you couldn’t even last a few minutes?!” He exclaims, eyes wide. “God, you’re so insufferable.”

“Wow, sorry I don’t like that a guy I already don’t trust is keeping secrets from me. Important secrets!” You snap and he laughs in disbelief. “Where are you even keeping that knowledge? In your hair? Sure as hell ain’t that thick skull of yours.”

“Fucking hell.” Steve breathes out, clicking his tongue, “What is actually wrong with you? Is it mental? Can you physically not stop yourself from harassing me?”

“Harassing you?” You gasp, shoes stamping onto the grass outside of the trailer park as you halt to a stop. “You’ve been whining about my walking speed since we stepped off your driveway! And, if you are even capable of memory, we can recall that you weren’t originally a part of this plan. And now you won’t even explain why you’ve suddenly decided to follow me like some lonely stalker!”

Steve sighs in a way that tells you he isn’t going to explain. Not yet. It was like you could see his mind shuffling through excuses that would just be blatant lies.

“I just-” He starts, but you raise your hand.

“Save it.” You scowl, shaking your head. “If you’re coming with me then we’re gonna walk at my pace. We’re gonna let eachother know if there’s danger, and we’ll fight it if necessary. We won’t talk, I don’t even care what you have to say anymore. I’m just looking to get through this day without dying and honestly, that’s a pretty high expectation to have considering I’ve almost been killed three times now, so… nut up and shut up.”

“Nut up?” Steve repeats with a smirk and you shush him.

“And shut up!”

You storm away from him and he rests his head back, staring at the sky that was slowly becoming consumed by dark clouds. ‘Why me?’ He mouths with a silent sob, adjusting his backpack and setting off after you.

Hopper’s cabin was located on the other side of the forest from the trailer park, past the Murder House people always gossiped about but never dared enter. You’d endured this journey many times since freshman year, continuously sneaking out to see friends that Hopper never deemed ‘acceptable’.

It should have been a straight path to the cabin, a shortcut through the woods that avoided all the main roads. It was easy.

Until stacks of fallen trees block your path, eyes widening with the sight. It was towering over you both, stretched out as far as you could see. Something did this; the marks on the trunk weren’t mother nature’s effect.

“Woah.” Steve comments, looking up at the sheer height of it. “That’s a lot of trees.”

You glance at him and he rolls his eyes, sarcastically zipping his mouth.

“My apologies, your highness.” He snarks, and you scrunch your nose at the nickname.

“Whatever, we need another route.” You say, gnawing your bottom lip as you think. “Okay, we either go down Kerly and cut across Weathertop-”

“Which will take us hours.”

“Or,” You continue, nodding to your right. “We go through the trailer park and pray that these trees don’t stretch across the bottom there.”

Steve takes a moment to observe the rows of trailer homes, assessing it with delicacy. It looked quiet. Almost too quiet. But he knew it would be pitch black by the time you reached Weathertop, and he didn’t want to be out here in the dark.

“Trailer park it is.” He sighs, swinging his bat onto his shoulder and walking with you down.

It looked deserted, some items of clothing and discarded kitchen utensils scattered across the grass. Most of the RVs were missing, too. They got out when they could. Or you hoped they did.

As you walk through, nerves alight and gripping the knife in your hand like it might slip away, you couldn’t help stopping to stare at an empty lot. Grass had overgrown the area, looking completely out of place amongst the sea of trailers surrounding it. Like nothing had ever been there before.

Steve almost didn’t notice you had stopped. He had risked a glance your way, curiosity setting in at your knowledge of this place, when he realised you weren’t there. There’s an initial panic raising his heart rate until he turns around, finding your fallen expression staring at an empty space.

“Don’t tell me these things are stealing trailers now.” Steve comments with a hint of amusement, attempting to lighten the mood. But you didn’t laugh.

“Let’s keep moving.” You whisper with glistening eyes. Steve frowns, staring at the overgrown foliage for just a moment before walking away.

Steve stayed silent after that, quietly observing you as you weaved between the mobile homes. You were rushing your footsteps, understandable considering earlier events. But it felt more like you were running from something else entirely.

From your quickened pace, you were both getting through the trailer park with plenty of time before nightfall. Although, guessing by the unnatural clouds forming above you, neither of you could really guess when nightfall would hit.

A twig snaps beneath your feet and you feel yourself go cold. But that wasn’t the sound raising bile in your throat.

Snarling echoed its way towards you, attracted by the noise. In a moment of instinctive reaction, you grab onto Steve and pull him around the closest trailer. You were fast enough to place your hand over his mouth, muffling his sounds of protest.

He held his breath once he heard it too, the uneven shuffling, a throaty growl. The thing approached into view, moving entirely alien; it was like it wasn’t used to the attached limbs. Whoever it was looked just like the others you encountered; black veined and dripping red.

The noises it made, low whimpers… it was close to being a cry of pain, but you figured it to be much worse. They were using it to lure in victims, trick people. Whatever infected them, it was smart.

Tucked away in the shadows, the figure didn’t notice you as it passed, you and Steve pressed together. But you didn’t move until the shuffling of dirt was out of ear shot.

Slowly stepping away from Steve, you peer around the caravan. It was safe. For now.

“Okay, come on.” You whisper, keeping close to the trailer walls and making sure to double check corners before moving on. Two unfriendly encounters were enough for one day.

Neither of you commented on the closeness of before but, then again, neither of you thought it wise to be talking right now. Steve kept close to you, keeping eyes on what could be approaching behind. You were both acting paranoid, but the paranoia was purely survival now.

Some clatter of cans kept ringing out in every direction, making you jump. Steve kept you moving, a guiding nudge with his hand on your shoulder. Usually, you’d be fuming at his man-handling. But you had to learn that you needed eachother right now.

“hey, stop a second.”

Steve whispered in your ear and you stop, turning to face him. He was staring straight ahead before catching your eye and raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asks in a hushed voice and you blink.

“I thought-” You begin, but you don’t have time for his games right now. “Nevermind.”

He frowns at you as you turn back, assuming you were just hearing things now. The wind was picking up, maybe your mind was twisting the whistles into something more recognisable.

“we should take a break.”

“Why?” You respond almost immediately, confused at Steve’s suggestion. Again, as you turn around, he simply looks at you in confusion.

“Why what?” He asks, growing increasingly concerned. You looked like you had seen a ghost. “Y/n?”

“I think there’s a clearing in the woods.” You nod slowly, rubbing your eyes.

“Oh.” Steve peers around the trailer you currently hid behind and you were right. A spot that hadn’t been obliterated by fallen trees. “I don’t see anything tryna snack on us, so I think we’re good to go.”

You send him a look and he felt a little guilty at his comment. But you don’t say anything. Instead, you give a brief nod and start heading to the clearing.

Something didn’t feel right here. And the longer you stayed, the worse you felt.

It was a clear path directly to your target, far enough to need a sprint but close enough to reach covered ground before anything caught you.

So you run, hearing Steve’s footsteps blending into yours. You were mentally mapping out the rest of the route now, the bench that marked you were heading in the right direction.

Your feet had just touched the sheltered grass when something thumps on the ground behind you and you skid to a stop, eyes widening.

Steve was wrestling on the ground with a creature much bigger than he was. It must have caught him just before the woods, pulling him away. You raise your knife, charging towards it, until you caught sight of what it really was.

This thing was huge and bony, giant claws resting at the end of extended arms. It was grey, glinting in the light from its slimy, pale exterior. And its face was opening like a flower, roaring spit onto Steve’s face. You almost dropped the knife.

A faceless creature. A flash of grey. A scream. You’re stood there, frozen. Where is it? Where did it go? A ruffle of leaves. Was it real? Is it following you-

“Y/n!” Steve cries out and your blurry vision snaps back into focus.

Steve’s struggles were close to having no effort at all, the creature’s arm raising and pinning his head down to the ground, leaning closer, breathing on him. He should have been checking his surroundings, and now he was back to that night in Byers’ house. Except this time he was the one that needed saving.

A screech erupts from its mouth as it rolls off of him and he takes a painful breath, sitting up and scrambling for his weapon. He couldn’t find it. Steve whips his head to where the Demogorgon was snarling and his eyebrows raise.

You had scooped up Steve’s bat, knowing the knife wouldn’t fair well in this battle. It was this moment and this moment only you had ever thanked Hopper for making you take that baseball class in the summer.

But, as it uncurled itself from the ground where you struck it, that initial paralysing fear came rushing back all at once. It towered over you, at least a foot bigger. Its grey skin…

A faceless creature. A flash of grey. A scream. You’re stood there, frozen. Where is it? Where did it go? A ruffle of leaves. Was it real? Is it following you? Your feet thump against the ground. You shouldn’t be here. What happened to the scream? Why is it so quiet-

Steve thought it was going to kill you. A scream was rising in his throat, desperately searching for a weapon you had left him without. You were just stood there, staring at it with a horrified expression.

At the last possible second, after it had pushed its feet from the ground and lunged for you, you swung the bat across the side of its face, the head swerving away from you and sending it stumbling.

Steve took the opportunity then to grab your wrist and run, as fast as possible. These things were quick; he knew from experience.

As he pulled you through the trailers, you could hear it following you, bouncing off of the metal walls and knocking some things over. Your heart beat practically left a metallic taste on your tongue.

Suddenly, Steve tugs you to the ground, grabbing and pulling you towards him until you were both crouched on the ground, trying to control rapid breathing.

He watches as the Demogorgon crashes into another trailer, denting it with the force of the impact. Steve holds you there, begging that the forgotten ice cooler and armchair were enough to shield you both from view. Not that it had eyes, but he wasn’t sure how it could see. Maybe scent. Maybe something else entirely.

Neither of you dared to breath anymore, your shaking hand resting against his knee. You could just see its pale silhouette from the gap between chair and trailer, somehow making it worse. You’d see it find you first before you felt it. And that laced tears in your eyes, knowing one sound could be your end.

It was just luck that Steve happened to shift his arm and give you a better view of your surroundings.

You spot a familiar trailer and point to it, unsure if Steve would understand you. But his eyebrows raise and he’s nodding, searching the ground. A discarded tin can rests at your feet and he leans over until you can feel his breath on your cheek. Clutching it in his hand, he slowly moves away from you, finger against his lips. Then he’s crawling around the trailer’s edge and you’re left alone.

It took a second or two until you suddenly felt that pit in your stomach, panic burying into it. What if he left you? Neither one of you wanted to rely on the other, history creating this dent in your relationship that invoked a gag reaction just looking at each other’s face. Maybe he took the chance and just ran. Maybe you were going to be caught, and you would die here. Maybe-

You hear a distant clatter of a tin can hitting what you assumed was a window, the snarl of the beast chasing after it.

And Steve was quickly back at your side, reaching down to grab your hand and pull him with you.

Steve moved as quietly as he could as he ran with you toward the trailer you had pointed to, clicking open the door and gently pushing you inside, eyes only just catching the bald grey head in the distance before he shuts and locks it behind him.

Inside the trailer, you start tugging a sofa over to the door. The weight lifted once Steve was at the other side, helping you block the entrance. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to bide you time.

Once it’s dropped, Steve rushes to the windows, drawing the blinds and curtains shut. As he reaches for the one above a small table, he just catches the deadly figure running off into the woods and grits his teeth. Shit.

“Okay, bad news.” Steve sighs, stepping away. “It has just gone for a jog in the exact direction we need to go in, so…”

He turns to look for your unamused expression but finds you aren’t paying attention.

You’re sat on the floor, back resting against the wall with your eyes focused on the maroon carpet. You’re gently tapping your thigh, the other leg bent into a comfortable position. You looked worn out, and a little haunted.

Steve has seen enough to know how you must feel. Your whole world turned upside down in the matter of a few minutes. Things you had never seen would now be circling your mind for every waking hour and every sleepless night. You were stuck in this never-ending nightmare for the rest of your life, just like he was.

He silently slides himself down the wall, sitting in the space beside you. There was room for a whole other person between you, a comfortable distance considering how you had been avoiding eachother for a year now.

“Demogorgon.”

You blink, craning your neck to meet Steve’s eyes with a frown. “What?”

“Demogorgon.” Steve repeats again, tightening his lips as he nodded. “The thing out there.”

There’s a sense of disbelief in your stare. “Did you just name it after a DnD monster?”

“No, I-” Steve shakes his head before raising his eyebrows. “How did you know where it was from?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You snort, turning your head back. “Fitting name, though.”

“Yeah, that’s Dustin’s doing. I think. One of those damn kids at least.” Steve’s smile feels a little sadder at the mention of the boy’s name. Dustin may be a little shit, but he was his little shit. The brother he always longed for on those nights with his parents, feeling lonely in a room full of people.

“Dustin Henderson?” You frown, and Steve’s head whips towards you. “Wait, why would he- You’ve seen this thing before?”

“Yeah, we- how do you know Henderson?” Steve’s thoughts are much too distracted to string a single sentence together.

“Answer the question, Steve.” You persist, shuffling your body to face his. “You’ve seen it before?”

Steve was hesitant since this whole thing began to tell you about that night at the Byers, or the exhibition in the tunnel. Any of it, really. Because he thought it would only scar Steve more with the memory. But, as it turns out, he desperately needed to tell someone everything that had happened before it consumed him entirely.

So that’s what he did.

It felt much longer than it actually was, the words spilling out of him like the cork had finally popped from the bottle of his misery. You were silent throughout, eyes widening at his stories, a few nods of understanding. In fact, it was the most quiet Steve thinks he has ever seen you be.

“So, yeah. We thought we closed the gate but, uh, apparently not. All of that just for this to happen.” Steve exhaled a long breath, head hitting the wall with exhaust.

When you didn’t reply, Steve turns his head to your buffering face. It almost made him laugh, but he figured it would only earn him a harsh punch to the shoulder.

“Yeah… didn’t realise how much information I’ve just vomited on you there.” Steve grimaced and you raise your eyebrows, nodding slowly.

And, against all his expectations, you raise your head and say:

“You’ve known this whole time and didn’t think to tell me?!”

He should have thought better than to think you’d be pitying him.

“I was gonna-”

“You were gonna?!” Your eyes were wide and a bitter laugh slipped from your mouth as you look away from him. “Fucking hell.”

“We were a little preoccupied!” Steve defended, gesturing to the front door.

“Not even one ‘oh, by the way, there’s this whole other dimension that these things are crawling through and you’re not actually going crazy’?!”

“Jesus Christ, this is why no one tells you things.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“And Hopper knew?”

Your quiet voice caught his attention and he looks over just in time to catch you hiding your teary eyes, a rough swipe to rid them of existence.

“Yeah.” Steve said softly, sitting up straight. “He was the one who got Will back from the Upside Down. Made sure the girl was safe.”

“El.” You shake your head, eyes back on the carpet. “This whole fucking time.”

“He was just trying to keep you safe.” Steve offers, nodding. He remembered Hopper’s persistency on keeping you as far away from this as possible. “I mean, I can understand-”

“No, don’t you even dare.” You warn, pushing away from the ground and standing. You cross the space Steve assumed was a living room and clenched your fists. “You don’t understand. Don’t for one second think you do.”

“Believe me, you got lucky!” Steve found himself shouting and your mouth drops. He’s suddenly on his feet, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. “I’d give anything not to have those memories! Do you even know how hard that has been? For all of us?! Having to fight these things and keep it a secret-”

“But that’s it!” You point out, glaring. “You had eachother! And I had no one!”

“What are you even talking about?!” He stresses, hands on hips.

“I saw it and no one believed me!”

Steve takes a step back, face falling but the scrunch still dented the space between his brows. “What?”

You bite your lip, looking away from him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head profusely.

“Y/n.” He says sternly, regaining his position with a single step.

Everything felt deserted around him, leaving just you and him alone in this room. There wasn’t a war going on outside between people and monsters, or a fear thrumming in his chest of what could happen. All he felt was the pain radiating from your expression, a startling discovery of your past.

“No one believed me.” You whisper the same words, tears stinging your eyes.

A chill ran down Steve’s spine; he hadn’t been the only one struggling with a secret.

Chapter Four: A Girl Who Cried Wolf ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

[pacificheights]

My Lizard Loves You and So Must I

Posted on AO3

No warnings apply.

----

“Just because that pompous asshole is older than time itself and has worked at this university since before the dinosaurs went extinct, doesn’t mean that he knows everything there is to know about philosophy. I mean, isn’t it supposed to be some sort of opinionated subject? Isn’t the point of philosophy to think?” You grumbled under your breath.

“Well-”

“It was a rhetorical question, Aemond; I don’t need an actual fucking answer!” “No, but I like to poke at you when you’re already pissed off,” he smirked, punctuating his point with a literal poke to your upper arm.

Aemond - a weird guy with an even weirder name - sat next to you in your philosophy 110 class. You had come in a bit late on the first day, and, apparently, nobody wanted to sit next to the eye-patch kid. So, you had taken your seat next to him, and now, nearing the end of the semester, you still hadn’t changed it. 

“You’re a dick,” You murmured, poking him back. “I need coffee. Do you want coffee?” 

The two of you were already heading in the direction of the overpriced student-run coffee shop on the far corner of campus. 

“You know that you shouldn't drink so much caffeine. It makes you shake like an anxious chihuahua,” He said. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder - he wore it only on one side, like a cool and mysterious guy, or something. 

Your understanding of Aemond was limited, if you were being completely honest. You had known the guy for three months, and, in that time, you had figured out that he was, one, incredibly clever, two, an asshole, and three, that he had a large iguana named Vhagar. She was like fifteen years old and also an asshole, just like her owner. She adored him, but had tail whipped at you when you tried to enter his apartment. 

“Yes, well… I don’t have a rebuttal for that, but I do want my six dollar pumpkin-spice coffee.”

“As you wish, princess,” Aemond replied. You moved closer to him, so that your arms were touching as you walked. 

The two of you had some little flirtatious game going on, it seemed. He was absolutely atrocious to everyone else the two of you had come across - cold, standoffish, a bit psychotic, even - but with you, he was so soft, so warm. 

You didn’t know what made him like that - maybe it had something to do with his eyepatch. You hadn’t asked for the story behind it, and he hadn’t given it to you. But, beneath all of it, you could tell that there was some desire to be loved. Maybe he had mommy issues. You knew that his family was wealthy - they paid for an off-campus apartment for him and his siblings - so maybe he had been raised by nannies and had some mommy issues. 

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the closeness of each other's company as you made your way to the coffee shop. 

“Are you getting anything?” You asked him upon seeing the door. 

“You know I don’t put that sort of trash into my body,” He opened the door for you as he said it. What a gentleman! 

You walked to the back of the line, him joining by your side. You rocked back and forth between your heels and the balls of your feet as you looked up at the stereotypical hipster chalkboard menu, even though you knew what you wanted. 

You ordered your overpriced latte when it was your turn, and a pastry, because everyone loves pastries, and went to go claim a table by the window with Aemond. The leaves were changing colors as fall grabbed hold - you were entranced. It was you first year on campus, and Harvard was absolutely stunning in the fall. 

“Would you like some of my croissant?” You asked him once the two of you were sat. You tore a piece off, crumbs flaking off, and held it out for him to take. 

“(Y/N),” He groaned, shaking his head, “do you know how much butter is in that? Your arteries hate you.” 

“Your arteries hate you,” You retorted, sticking your tongue out like a child. You put the piece of the croissant that was meant for him in your mouth. “Can I come play with Vhagar today? I want to try and feed her.” 

“She's never going to like you,” Aemond took his phone out of his pocket - his lockscreen was his beloved iguana. He unlocked it and began to scroll through his camera roll until he found what he was looking for, and then slid the phone across the table to you.

It was a photo of an older, physical photo. You looked closely at the screen to see Vhagar as a baby. Well, baby Aemond and baby Vhagar - he could be no more than ten in that photo, and, wow, he had two eyes! He was holding her in his lap, looking down at her adoringly. 

“She was so tiny!” You exclaimed, thinking it best not to mention his eye. 

“That was the first day I got her,” He responded fondly. Nobody could deny how much he loved his lizard. 

You slid his phone back across the table to him, a smile playing across your lips. Your name was called, and you went to get your latte. He followed. 

“So… I can come over, then?” You asked. 

He shrugged and nodded, “If you'd like. I think I have some strawberries in the fridge - she likes those.” 

The two of you headed out of the coffee shop and started in the direction of his house. He lived a little ways off campus - a walkable distance - in a beautiful, four bedroom house. You knew that his parents paid for it. His two older siblings lived there, as well, and Vhagar had her own special room. 

The first time you had gone over to his place, it had been out of pure necessity. A bird had gracefully shit on your head while you and Aemond were coming out of class. Your friendship with him was just beginning, at that time, and he was still incredibly distant and cold to you. But, after laughing at your misery and misfortune, he had offered to come and let you shower off your shame so you didn't have to wait and be seen in the student dorm showers. 

That was when you had first encountered Vhagar. She hated you then, and she hated you now. 

The two of you idly chatted - well, you chatted and he listened - as you made your way to his house. He unlocked it when you got there and held open the door for you. You walked in and immediately took your shoes off, knowing it was one of their house rules. 

Aemond took off his shoes and set his bag down before taking your hand and dragging you over to the fridge. He pulled out the carton of strawberries and handed you three of them. 

“I'm not sure if she'll take them from you,” he cautioned. “You should use the tongs to feed her, otherwise she might bite.” 

You followed him into the lizard room. It was also so hot and humid in there, thanks to all of the special lights and the humidifier. He sat on the floor, and she immediately came running over to him. You stood in the doorframe, watching the interaction. 

“Come.” It sounded like a demand. You carefully and slowly walked towards them, sitting down next to him. Vhagar immediately whipped her tail against your leg. 

“Vhagar,” he scolded, lightly tapping her on the nose. “Here, give me a berry.” He held out his hand and you placed a strawberry in it. 

Aemond kissed the top of his lizards head before holding out the strawberry for her. She ate it happily. “You try,” he encouraged. 

So, you did. You scooted closer to him, berry in hand. 

“She can sense fear,” he teased with a smirk. He took your hand and placed it closer to her mouth, and then, just like magic, she took the berry! “See? Nothing to be afraid of, she's a good girl.” 

“She's an ass, just like her owner,” you shot back at him. 

“Hey. Don't insult my lizard, she has feelings. She's a very intelligent creature.” Aemond’s fingers found their way under her scaly chin, scratching the loose skin under it. You just smiled; he was so gentle with her, it was such a stark contrast to how he treated everyone else. 

“Can I feed her the last berry?” You asked. He nodded in reply, and you reached your hand out, without him holding it this time. The cold blooded beast hesitated for a moment before deciding that, ultimately, her hatred for you was less intense than her desire for the strawberry, and she took the berry from your hand. 

You grinned, ear to ear. This was the first time that Vhagar had allowed you so close to her. 

“She's deemed you worthy,” Aemond declared, a bit of warmth in his voice. Vhagar, realizing she wasn't getting more food, crawled out of his lap and back to her basking platform. 

He stood up, offering you a hand. You took his hand and he gently guided you up. 

“She hates everyone, but… she let you feed her,” He beamed, staring into your eyes. 

You nodded, “Yes,” you responded smugly, “I must be special.” 

“I believe so,” he led you out of the room and closed the door behind you. “That was all I needed to be sure.” He murmured softly. He still hadn't let go of your hand. 

“Aemond…?” You had never seen him this calm, never heard him speak so gently. 

Before you knew it, his arms were around your waist, and his lips on yours. They were soft. His scent hit you like a freightliner - some sort of cologne and Old Spice. Why had you never noticed before? 

You sank into his touch, melting into the kiss. His tongue flickered against your lower lip, and you parted your mouth to allow him access. He wasted no time sliding his tongue in, against your top teeth, your cheek. 

As suddenly as it began, it ended. 

You both stood there, staring at each other. Had that really just happened? 

Wait…

“Were you waiting on approval from your fucking lizard to do that?!” 

“Obviously.”

[mystargirl-interlude]

heyyyyyyyyy, thx for following me I was wondering if you could do a request where Xavier meets the reader as Wednesday’s sister and they date behind her back before she finds out and Enid has to convince her to be okay with it.

hiii thank you so much for your request I hope this if fulfills your expectations!!

I was listening to thunder while writing this so if you want the full experience listen to thunder

Requested: yes

Warning: none I don’t think?

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

Word count: 941

Proofread: no

Thunder

completely moving schools because your twin decided it would be fun to try and kill a group of jocks isn't all that fun.

I was completely fine staying at the school we were at but when Wednesday got expelled I got expelled with her for not doing anything to stop her.

We ended up getting thrown in the same school mother and father went to Nevermore boarding .

Me and Wednesday are fraternal twins hence why we look nothing alike despite us not looking anything alike doesn't mean we are complete opposites I just tend to show more emotions which is why switching to Nevermore had such an impact on me.

Once we pulled into the driveway to the castle like school my I could feel my stomach twist with nerves while my parents looked ecstatic about us living the life they once lived

After zoning out most of the car ride I finally came back to my senses

"This looks like a hell hole" were the first words to come out of my mouth

"I would have to agree sister" says Wednesday with a deathly look in her eyes

"Come on girls you can continue on the Addams name" mother says

"And live in your shadow?" Me and Wednesday say in sync as a rhetorical question

I tend to disassociate quite often and didn't start paying attention until we were with some blonde girl named Enid

"That over there is Bianca the closest thing nevermore has to royalty, but lately her crowns been slipping, she used to date Nevermore's tortured artist Xavier Thorpe" she says pointing over to his direction

I see a long haired male painting what it looks like crows I can't seem to look away as he turn around as we make eye contact and unfortunately as Enid continues her tour I have to be the first to break it.

That leads us to where we are now

*two months later*

“Do you think if Wednesday caught us she would be mad?”

“It’s unpredictable when it comes to Wednesday”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Me and Xavier entered the weathervane making our presence known with the little bell above the door

“Go sit down I’ll order” he says

This was a weekly ritual for us, since we can’t be public about our relationship yet this was the only way we had alone time

I look up to see Xavier come my way

“Okay here’s your drink”

“Thank you” I smile

“Do you ever wish that we didn’t have to sneak off every time we want to be together?” He asks

“Yeah.. all the time, but I don’t know what would happen if we didn’t. Like I know the world won’t blow up, but I just don’t want my sister to hate me.”

“Let’s talk about something else”

I replied

“Did you hear that Eugene has a crush on Enid???”

I say

“No fucking way”

I nod

“That’s actually hilarious, isn’t he like 13?”

He says

“Yeah! I kinda feel bad but it’s too funny”

He chuckled as he reached over to softly kiss me.

We stay like that for a while paying no mind to the bell ring announcing someone walking in

“Does someone want to explain what is going on or am I going to have to bring out my ropes”

I hear a familiar voice say

“WEDNESDAY”

Xavier says breaking apart from my lips clearly shocked

I look over to see Wednesday standing in front of our table tense with her eye twitching next to a very confused enid

“Uhm Wednesday I promise I can explain-“

“Can you?” She cuts me off

“I’ll wait”

“Wednesday maybe we should just leave them be they looked like they were happy” Enid says trying to grab Wednesday

“Touch me again and I will make sure your hand never gets to touch anything again”

Wednesday say

“Mm” Enid squeals

“Wednesday I know you don’t like this school or anyone in it but I do, I really do and I enjoy hanging out with everyone and I enjoy the classes and I enjoy the people and quite frankly I really like Xavier.”

You say

“I am going to go back to the dorms. I do not want to see either one of you.” Wednesday says as she walks out

“Im so sorry, I’ll talk to her” Enid cringes as she quickly catches us to Wednesday

“Oh god oh god” I rub my hands over my face

“Hey shes your sister she’s not going to be mad forever” Xavier says

“ you clearly don’t know Wednesday, she holds grudges for forever” I sigh

A few hours later

We were all in Wednesday and Enid shared dorm room

“ Wednesday whether you like it or not your sister is going to find someone she loves and someone who loves her back and even if you don’t want that to happen it’s going to be the same for you” Enid says

Wednesday slowly looks up and this is the most emotion I’ve seen her have other than when her scorpion died but it quickly goes away as her face hardens and she quickly walks towards Xavier

She gets really close to him as she quietly says

“If you ever hurt her I will tie you up and make sure you have a slow excruciating death” she says just loud enough for Xavier to hear.

Xavier quickly nods as Wednesday gives him a side eye and nods towards me.

I smile as I see her walk out

“Well, personally I think that went well” I said as Enid nods in agreement

“Uh yeah sure” Xavier says, scratching the back of his head.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

i saw that review on letterboxd of all the rhetorical questions for barbie and like… the more i think abt it, the more i’m certain that the review’s author fundamentally misunderstood the film. barbie land is not a utopia in the way that adults would think abt a utopia, like the author seems to imply… barbie land is canonically shaped by little girls playing with their dolls. that’s why we see a supreme court. thats why there are nobel prizes and authors and lawyers (also because that’s how the toys are marketed… would there be a mermaid in ur utopia??? there would be in mine!). that’s why barbie and ken don’t necessarily know what a boyfriend and girlfriend are “meant” to do (not to mention that the author’s assumption that sex is fundamental to a romantic relationship is problematic at best). that’s why barbie is indifferent to ken (i personally had the life size barbie and my sister had the barbie dream house—we had the working woman barbie game, i had the genie barbie gameboy game, we had countless barbie dolls; we didn’t own a single ken doll lol). barbie land is a world created by and for little girls as they play with their dolls (she says in a comment on the original post “don’t little girls play with their dolls in a sexual way?” and yeah, sure, some do. but i didn’t and i’m sure there are others who didn’t… just like there are some girls who completely mutilated their own dolls and made them into horrifying creatures)… that’s why stereotypical barbie starts having an existential crisis—because a grown woman begins to play with her doll again and starts reshaping barbie land… we, as the audience, are meant to understand this as an outlier to how barbie land is canonically created. the author also calls ken “crass” and “slovenly”… maybe after he builds the patriarchy in barbie land he becomes “crass” but i wouldn’t call him slovenly at any point in the film (i suppose this is just semantics tho).

also, please stop saying that barbie land is a reversal of the real world. it isn’t, even if that may have been the filmmakers intentions. again, barbie is indifferent to ken. she does not abuse him, she does not treat him like he exists to service her by cooking or cleaning or providing other favors for her… barbie does not oppress ken in the way that men oppress women in the real world (we have no idea if he owns property or where he lives and she doesn’t seem to particularly care—extremely different from the fact that women couldn’t have their own bank accounts or credit cards, get a mortgage on their own or divorce their husbands through no fault divorce until the second half of the 20th century in the us… within a lot of our mothers and grandmothers lifetimes!!!!) and it is a complete disservice to conflate or equate the two. we actually see barbie drawing clear boundaries around her time and space in regards to ken—this is not a reversal of misogyny as women and girls experience it in the real world, by any stretch of the imagination.

is the film perfect or revolutionary or radical? of course not. it was produced by major studios and corporations in hollywood. of course the barbie movie is a fucking commercial for barbie, like… to expect anything different is just extremely dumb on your part if u saw the trailer, saw the marketing, saw the interviews, bought a ticket, and sat ur ass in the theater, like be fuckin serious. but don’t do women and girls a disservice by discrediting the world and thoughts and ideas it could open up for them by seeing themselves be taken seriously on screen in a major summer blockbuster with stupid fucking questions because u want to feel superior to everyone else because YOU and ONLY YOU see through the capitalist marketing of lipstick pop girlboss feminism (especially when juxtaposed with the way the female characters are treated in oppenheimer, which we cannot help but compare to the barbie film with the viral marketing of barbenheimer).

[writingdinosaur]

Let’s Talk Names Pt.1

I had the sudden urge to research the angels and demons that appear in Good Omens. This has nothing to do with the fact that I’m meant to be focusing on Grad School. Leave me alone. This will be long, but some of the stuff I found was pretty cool. Quick disclaimer: I am neither a good scholar nor a good researcher. I found most of this on Wikipedia.

Angels first because, honestly, they were a lot easier. Most of them will have names ending in “el” because etymologicaly, “el” means God. Most of their names have something to do with her.

Michael, for example, means “who is like God?” This is meant to be a rhetorical question as the implied answer is no one. HOWEVER, in Latin it can also be the opposite. Meaning “one who IS like God.” Kind of explains a bit about Michael’s personality, tbh.

Uriel means “God is my flame,” and is described as a smart and scholarly angel.

Sandolphon from s1 was pretty funny as his name can be literally translated into “co-worker.” I thought this was a funny nod to his role in s1, which mostly consisted of following Gabriel around and generally being a freak. BUT! Then I read further. His name is thought to deal with the Book of Revelation. The book in the Bible that deals with… The Second Coming! According to Wikipedia, his name probably refers to his relationship with the Metatron. Not Gabriel. Makes you wonder if he’ll make an appearance in season three…

Speaking of Gabriel, I decided to do this both for his given name and for Jim in case there was anything to that. Surprisingly, there was. Gabriel means “God is my Man,” or perhaps “Man of God.” Straightforward enough. Jim is where it gets a bit more interesting. Jim (short for James, short for Gabriel) can mean a few things, the first perhaps being a bit more well known. James means supplanter. Supplanter meaning to overthrow. Fitting for the Prince of Heaven willing to throw it all away for his love for the Prince of Hell. James can also mean protector (an Angel giving himself up to demons clad in a sparkly white robe comes to mind). The last meaning is “may God protect.”

Saraquel was hard to find. There seems to be a few different names for this Angel, but they all mean “God is my ruler.”

Aziraphale was a name made up by (I believe) Sir. Terry. From what Neil Gaiman has said, I think they came up with something that sounded angelic enough to be an Angel’s name. Intentional or not, however, there are still a few things that can be discussed. There was nothing on Wiki, but after consulting multiple naming websites, Azira can mean “pioneering spirit,” (aka a leader) or “rising star.” Either one fits with his upcoming arc. Rising star hits a little harder, though…. Perhaps more importantly, however. His name does not end in “el.” It ends in “le.” Close to angelic, but not quite. Very fitting for our grey shaded angel.

Time for the elephant in the room: Let’s talk Metatron (I didn’t forget Muriel. We’re saving the best for last). The etymology of the Metatron’s name is highly debated. One theory is that Metatron comes from a Greek word meaning “co-occupant of the throne.” …What?! The throne here is obviously referring to heaven, but this calls into question WHY HE IS CO-OCCUPYING?! Another theory is that Metatron comes from a Latin word meaning “forerunner.” Forerunner means (wait for it) “one who announces the coming of another.” Um… HELLO?! It’s fine I’m fine. Either of these are obviously VERY fitting and I can’t wait to see what Neil has in store for us.

Last but not least. Muriel. I’m warning you now, there isn’t much here. What is here is a FUCKING ROLLER COASTER! Boring part first, Muriel comes from myrrh. Yes, the myrrh that was gifted by the wise men to Baby Jesus. Now I’m going to tell you EXACTLY what else it says about them.

First of all, Muriel is a Dominion. They tell Crowley that they cannot access Gabriel’s trial because “you have to be a throne, a DOMINION, or above.” Now, is it possible that Neil picked an Angel at random to fill in this position? Yes. But considering he kept the positions of the other Angels, why would Muriel’s be changed? Second, and perhaps the scariest, Muriel, in biblical lore, becomes the ANGEL OF DEATH. I… Neil. Neil if you hurt them…. Also, perhaps Muriel is promoted to Dominion when they BECOME the Angel of Death?

Anyway, it’s 1 am now. I’ll do part 2 tomorrow. I’m new to long posts on mobile, so I hope I did this right.

[grainelevator]

I’m so so sorry this is going to be a really long rant but !!!! FUCK !!!! I’ve been desperate for this conversation.

We had a dinner guest very confidently say, word for word, that health is a colonial concept. Queue a chorus of tongue to the top-teeth disapproving *clicks* and the sound of my grandmother decisively putting her fork down. The questions started coming with an underlying tone of absolute distain. “What is health?” “Do you mean the healthcare system?” “Do you see an alternative here?” “Do you know why there isn’t one?” “Are you aware we fight tooth and nail for access to this so-called colonial concept and the system that facilitates it?”

Immediately this white girl is shaking in her boots (I don’t blame her, my grandma is 58, capable of lifting a car, and probably of scalping a dinner guest if the need ever arose). But it became so obviously clear over the course of her attempt to explain that what she meant is “native culture is unhealthy, health is a deviation from and erasure of native culture” which is, uhhhh, bullshit. I feel like so many people (liberal and upper class white women in particular) see a facet of colonial society that isn’t equally represented in minority communities and then interpret it as being a colonial invention as opposed to a colonial privilege. The same goes for “settled dwelling is a colonial concept” no it isn’t, lots of us did that for centuries, it just sucks now because a colonial system got dropped on top of the practice. Saying health, housing, parenting, etc are Colonial Concepts is saying outright that you cannot envision indigenous people as presently or historically capable of upholding those ideals in an equal capacity.

Progressive language does not negate the inherent infantilisation or racism of that belief. Furthermore, treating liberation from the material and social suffering of our condition as a deviation from our culture betrays the fact that you understand it exclusively from the perspective of colonial power and abuse. Thus, native culture (and african american culture) becomes, in the eyes of white liberals, synonymous with what was inflicted upon us as opposed to who we are. How dare we aspire towards health when to do so is a betrayal of our culture? Our culture being traumatisation, grief, victimhood, and above all else, a necessary social technology of both white guilt and white liberal saviourship.

Wow. Do NOT apologize for this! You are a great writer and your arguments are excellent.

I’ve been thinking about these connections a lot too. A very strong example of how consumption impacts health (I can’t believe I actually have to say that) and how these health conditions (including how these problems are managed) affect different groups in different ways are food swamps. Food swamps are areas that have little access to nutritious food, caused by factors such as cost and physical availability. In North America, native people and black people are significantly more likely to live in food swamps. These populations are less valued and seen as expendable.

It is well established that consumption of highly-processed food leads to negative health outcomes. However, the people who follow the rhetoric of positions such as “health is a colonial construct” (It’s not - health exists as a spectrum, and the delineation of healthy and unhealthy may be highly variable. This is not the same thing as non-existence) are also the ones who deny the cause and effect nature of health. This misinformation is especially harmful in places with a high population of people who are already marginalized. No one benefits from the insistence that diet does not influence disease…except for the corporations making people sick.

Food companies are not your friends. Pharmaceutical companies are not your friends. Preventative diseases line their pockets. Your wellbeing and that of others needs to come before their profit.

[britcision]

There’s been another round of the semi-constant “the kids these days don’t know their history” and 1) you know who you sound like

But also 2) the kids are being told that anyone over 19 who talks to them is a sicko and a pervert. How are they supposed to know when they don’t know what questions to ask?

And it’s being done so pervasively and so successfully that I gotta wonder if that isn’t the goal

Forcing a divide between queer kids and the queer adults who could support them and help them with the benefit of experience

The people who could teach them all this history and how we got to where we are

There’s a reason the US and Canadian governments have a long and ongoing history of stealing children from Indigenous families; if you want to remove a culture, you start with the kids

There’s this weird dual mindset now where young queers are acting like it’s both always been this safe to be out and queer, and that they’re the first ones doing anything for queer rights

They’re trying to reinvent the wheel and getting scolded by the older queers they’ve already been told are perverts because they’re no longer minors (and isn’t that a familiar rhetoric)

But what’s gonna happen to those teens on their nineteenth birthday, when they’re now the perverts if they keep hanging out with their same friend groups?

Are they gonna magically forget everything that told them older queers aren’t safe? Will they know how to navigate the world without the safety brand of “minor”?

(Fucking wild the first time I saw a baby queer use that in public, telling some creep they were a minor and to leave them alone. There were about 8 of us in the group and we just gently folded them back into the middle so creeper knew they weren’t out alone because holy shit that is dangerous.

The people who think harassing others on the street is fine and good really aren’t the people you should trust won’t be encouraged by finding out you’re a minor)

A good damn chunk of my queer friends are at least four years older than me and oh boy did they have a lot to put up with when I was 16-17

But they taught me our queer history, and things like why the leather daddies and kinksters will always have a place at Pride (we did not get this far without them and we’re not leaving anyone behind)

I learned a lot from having older friends, including things they weren’t trying to teach me just because I looked into stuff they casually talked about

And bear in mind, when I was that age queer rep was pretty much “oh and they’re brothers so no one ship them”, Brokeback Mountain, and Rocky Horror Picture Show

I’m over the moon that queer kids have so much more stuff to choose from now. We’re going to need more, because we always need more and there should never be a cap on the amount of rep any group needs

I’m just suspicious of the kind of discourse that tries to put lines down between members of the queer community

Again: we did not get here without every single group that fought and died under this umbrella. And we will lose everything we have if we start to leave people behind.

Being queer still isn’t safe for everyone, everywhere, and even where we’re relatively safe there are still people chomping at the bit to roll us all back and we don’t all fit in the closet anymore

Anyway, TL;DR: don’t trust anyone who tells you that they’re the only person you can trust and everyone else is dangerous, the only way to stop predators is to teach people about predatory behaviour, not “all predators are x”, and we all need to share our queer history in as open and approachable a manner as possible

[stillness-in-green]

Hori really baited me with this chapter for one panel we get to see the thoughts of Hoseface making me think “omg are we going to get some characterization for my favorite advisor” only to then have him be shafted like a page or two later

+

Scarecrow continues to be, against all odds, the best-treated of the PLF lieutenants, and isn’t that a bar that’s about as high off the ground as a water main?  But in truth, I’ve been Preemptively Tired of Hori’s lazy characterization of Hose Face ever since the latter’s gratuitous, ham-fisted reference to killing Midnight.  It never read to me like he was aiming that at the U.A. kids themselves as a dig or an attack on their morale; he’s pretty clearly talking to the group he’s leading, and with that being his audience, why highlight some random teacher at U.A. instead of, say, Crust, one of the Top 10 heroes, or the HPSC’s President Pearls?  No reason in-universe that I can see,* and even from the meta perspective, it’s not a reveal that has the slightest impact on the plot.

But that aside, yes, “float gas” is a damn fool quirk to give a guy in Hose Face’s position, both in his organization and the narrative, and it’s even worse to give him a quirk like that and then characterize him the way Hori does.  Being able to maintain the high ground is nice and all, but without a better way to cinch fights, you’re really just running out the clock, as it were.  Fuck’s sake, Piercings Guy has got a better quirk than that, and if Hori really wants to sell the MLA as championing quirk supremacy to the exclusion of all else, what’s the justification for Hose Face outranking him?

I do wonder if this is some remnant of what was once intended to be a bigger plot thread.  I mean, seriously, Hose Face being the one who killed Midnight has no impact at all on this scene.  None!  What's the point of mentioning it at all? Maybe, in a version of this endgame that had more set-up and more room to breathe, Mina knowing that she's confronting Midnight's killer might have been an important factor in her actions in the scene. Maybe we could also have found out what Hose Face specifically has against teachers and/or U.A. that Midnight is the kill he uses to underline his rhetorical points.

As things stand, though, the only thing the blood on his hands does is guarantee that the average reader is not going to be asking inconvenient questions like why no one is bothering to try and “save” this particular villain, despite that nice line from Tsukauchi about remembering that all villains are human and finding their origins less than ten chapters prior. God forbid Team Hero be ideologically consistent towards villains that haven't cried for them first, though.

Bah.  I’m afraid I have virtually nothing but salt on this topic, @plf-advisor-stan.  But thanks for the asks!  All my sympathy for your favorite advisor getting shortchanged; I wonder if we’ll ever get back around to Pinstripe Shark/Brand?  We can watch Horikoshi try to convince us that he’s a total quirk supremacist, too, despite the fact that his quirk is apparently so staunchly non-combat in nature that he brings a katana to quirk fights.

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*At best, Midnight being a teacher makes her more a “purveyor of falsehoods,” than a non-teacher hero, but I would think Prez Pearls still has Midnight beaten on that front.  Anyway, he refers to everyone they’re fighting on-site as being such purveyors, so there’s no reason to assume he highlights Midnight on that specific basis.