#totally not inspired by any one person in particular ^^

[weaselmcdiesel]

omg!! what!! squid?! i heard so much about you!!

[topazadine]

Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions

Just a short pet peeve of mine, inspired by a shower thought, where I remembered the most terrifying description I'd ever read.

It wasn't bad, or even horror. It was well written.

However. The POV character described his *sister* in a way akin to this (my recreation, not the actual text):

Braden met his sister at the gate. They'd been apart for several years, and in that time, she had truly become a woman. Her curves had filled out, and her red silk dressed strained across her tight figure. Her long black curly hair shone in the late evening light, while her blue eyes watched him intently.

No, this wasn't a brocon thing. The (male) writer was just horny for his female character and ... kinda forgot that his MC, her brother, would not feel the same way.

Now, of course siblings growing up together are going to notice the other one maturing, but it's not going to be ... that. This is how I describe 17-year-old Uileac looking at his little sister, 13-year-old Cerie, in 9 Years Yearning:

She'd shot up in height this past year - almost as tall as him, to his dismay. Whatever they were feeding her in the meronym was quite good for her metabolism, as she'd put on a bit of healthy weight. Her cheeks were losing their baby roundness, and the autumnal light accentuated the sharp intelligence behind her green eyes.

In this description, you can feel Uileac's paternal attitude toward his little sister. "Oh, she's put on a bit of weight and isn't a total twig anymore! I'm glad they're feeding her well. Her face looks more adult. Fuck, she's almost as tall as me now ... I wish I weren't so goddamn short ...."

This is a much more normal way for siblings to talk about each other, if a bit more "dad mode" than the typical older brother.

Siblings who grew up together are not going to say "holy shit I can really tell my sister has become a woman, wow her dress is tight over her curves." If my brother had said that about me while we were kids, I'd throw up and dump a pot of soup over his head.

This kind of thing is generally accidental and has to do with how *you* feel about a character. But the thing is that even the sexiest femme fatale is just going to be Jennifer, The Stupid Annoying Sister, to their sibling. Our brains are literally wired not to see our siblings as sexy if we grew up with them.

There are many other ways that you must take perspective into consideration when writing descriptions. Here are just a few of them.

Sexual attraction/orientation

You're going to focus on different things if you're sexually attracted to someone; namely, you'll focus in on things like breasts, legs, abs, etc. You'll also likely devote more attention to describing people of your particular sexual orientation than you would one that you are not attracted to, and you will focus on different things.

This is part of why we hate "men writing women:" they describe every woman as if they want to fuck them. (See the first example.) It has to do with the places that their gazes naturally linger on any woman, which is what they consider important and what they focus on.

But the thing that they miss is that just because we are sexually attracted to a specific gender does not mean we would want to bang anyone of that gender. I am a lesbian, but the way I would describe my mom or my therapist is vastly different than how I would describe a woman I am actually attracted to.

Romantic interests should get a more sexualized gaze; not exploitative, just more in-depth, and with more focus on their figure, specific details, etc. Everyone else should get a more basic look at eyes, hair color, height, build, and so on.

Feelings about a particular person

You're going to be more forgiving and complimentary toward someone you care about than someone you hate. Things that would be charming on a friend will be downright annoying on that one asshole at work who always throws projects to you at 5pm on a Friday.

A lover's thick eyebrows might be called "dashing" or "strong," while on an enemy, they'd be "overbearing" and "harsh." Your bestie's lisp is cute, while it seems babyish on your school rival. Your dad's meandering sentences give him a sense of harmless musing, but they make someone else look like an idiot.

If you have a character that is prejudiced toward a given group, they are always going to describe that group more harshly than they would a favored group. If they don't like authority figures, a police officer leaning toward them will seem menacing, when they wouldn't even notice it otherwise.

It can be very fun to give two characters similar traits but describe them differently based on the POV character's perspective of them. Readers might not even realize that it's the exact same physical feature!

Previous experiences at a given place

When describing settings, we're going to give more attention to somewhere we care about, like our home. I imagine you can tell me about every chip in the paint in your bedroom, or that one weird stain in the floorboard that you've tried everything to fix. Many times, this is a good time to add depth to the character's backstory by briefly mentioning previous occurrences there.

Would you notice any of those things about a place you're visiting for the first time? Probably not. You'll give a more global attention to the scene and provide impressions, not specifics.

Depending on how nervous or adventurous you are, you'll look for similarities or differences to things that you're accustomed to. You might compare it to other places you have been, trying to get a frame of reference.

If you're on a vacation and were really looking forward to coming to this specific spot, you will likely hone in on exactly what you came to see, whether that's the scene from a particular hilltop or a cafe, and this will get the most description.

Current Mood

Descriptions change with a character's mood, even if they've been in that place a millions times. People just notice different things depending on their mood; if they're happy, they'll look for things that support that mood, while if they're upset, they're pointing out the negatives.

For example, consider someone walking into a court room when they are on trial versus when they are there as a simple court reporter. The person on trial is probably going to be glancing longingly at the door, picking out the angry faces of observers (or assuming the observers are angry), focusing attention on the security guards, staring at the plaintiff with hate in their eyes.

The court reporter will likely pick out anyone they know in the room before looking at anything else. Then, they'll check out the defendant and plaintiff with idle curiosity. Since they are more familiar with the room, they'll gloss over the boring details that they have already seen a million times, giving them only a cursory once-over to see if anything has changed.

Current Need

Your character's objectives need to taken into consideration as well. As an example, remember the last time that you really needed to pee while you were out. Were you slowly and casually admiring the scenery? No! You were hunting for the bathroom. If literally anything registered for you, it was anything that looked vaguely bathroom-sign-shaped. Everything around that bathroom sign, and on your path toward the bathroom, got more attention and description to you than anything else.

Your character's interests

When describing a scene, you don't need to take time and define every single little thing in a character's path. It's annoying and overwhelming. You need to give us a basic overview (it's a forest, it's a grocery store, it's an abbatoir) and then hone in on the specific details that your character finds interesting in order to fill out the entire scene.

We, as people, focus on things we care about, things that we feel are relevant to us. Different people will notice completely different things when they walk into the same room. An animal trainer will appreciate a big pet bed and an ergonomic food bowl. An artist will admire the artwork on the walls. A computer nerd is going to roll their eyes at the scuffed-up Mac laptop.

This doesn't mean that you can't describe other things, too; it just means that your character's attention is going to be drawn to stuff that they, in particular, like or dislike.

Things like where a character's gaze lands, how they describe things, and how much detail they give to any particular element are an important part of secondary characterization: how we get to know a character beyond what they do or tell us. It helps to create a fuller picture of their relationships, their interests, and their thought process, and it deserves just as much attention as actions and dialogue.

If you enjoyed reading this, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning. No weird sibling vibes I prommie

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part One: Arrival

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader, NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You are married to the man in charge of the Manhattan Project himself, Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, and it's your first day (and night) at Los Alamos where tension and unspoken worry is getting high, but he finds time to show you how love can be an oasis in what seems like a rather barren land.

Word Count: ~7, 213

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid-20s and he is almost 40, and they have been married for a couple years), period stereotypical gender roles (maybe sexism?), unprotected + oral sex, mention of miscarriage, and strong hints at infidelity

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT completely historically or scientifically accurate to real life and is inspired by the film with Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer. There are definitely mentions of Katherine and Jean Tatlock as lovers in this, but he does not have any children with Kitty and is not physically with either of them presently. I also want to clarify that this (while researched) is still just my interpretation with AU elements added in, and it isn't supposed to be in total support and reflection of the real man's life/personality. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this story; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

April 1943

The ride en route to the secluded destination christened as "Los Alamos" was long, hot, and bumpy through the New Mexico desert on a single primitive dirt road with the sun beating down on the windshield, glaring into your eyes and reflecting off the expensive dainty golden watch wrapped around your wrist that had been last year's anniversary present, and the jostling motion of the car made your breasts jiggle up and down slightly, reminding you that you'd been in such a hurry to leave with Robert this morning you'd regrettably forgone putting on a bra. He glanced over to you now, his porkpie hat shadowing the serious and contemplative expression that he had been wearing as a regular look for weeks now... Finally this plan was coming to fruition, but at what cost? It was the government's money and the scientists who were on the line. Robert let you know more details than most out of his non-physics inner circle because he trusted you to keep your lips sealed, but he never gave specifics about what exactly the coined Manhattan Project, or Project Y, was for in terms of a mission yet because it was national security level secret, however it didn't take a genius to figure out it was incredibly important and the development of something dangerous... Too dangerous to keep in a campus laboratory at Berkeley.

As the car approached the main gate and passed by the checkpoint, you realized just now fairly remote this barbed-wire location was and it made a small sinkhole crater in your stomach. But Robert knew this land from his youth and you partly did too, for he owned ranchland here and you both had spent many hours in the last couple years roaming on horseback and on foot into the twilight hours of the day, feeling the chill of the evening breeze and the rustle of shrubbery as the sun dipped down below the horizon and plum light bathed the landscape, bouncing off the backdrop of mountains and reaching deep into the canyons. You recalled fondly one time in particular during the early stages of being courted by him... It was technically only the second date and he had mistakenly trusted you with a horse, even though you were hardly an experienced rider, and of course it had gone ballistic and attempted to buck you off as you held on for dear life to the stiff dark brown leather saddle.

"Woah... Woah! Easy, easy," Robert had called out, grabbing a hold of the bridle and patting the stallion on the neck as you gasped and he kicked his hooves, thrashing the dirt and missing Robert's cowboy boots by inches.

"This one can be a bit rowdy, sometimes the wild never quite gets bred out, and he's not used to you," he explained simply over your panicked cries as he kept patting and verbally calming the animal down.

"But what did I do wrong? I swear, he dislikes me tremendously!" you exclaimed in shock and Robert only shook his head.

"Then he has very poor taste in women if he rejects you," he had joked and you went sliding off the horse's back to where Robert caught you, easing you to the ground gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes alight with a mischievous concern, but you merely brushed your pants off and smoothed your blouse, shaking the experience off.

"Of course I am. Now are we riding or not?"

He smiled at your confidence, but had hoisted you up onto his horse instead, straddling you from behind so you were facing front and clutching onto the reins. His arms loped around your waist and the horse began to trot, bouncing both you and him in a steady up and down motion, and you flicked the reins, causing the horse to take off into the expansive landscape and Robert let out a joyous whoop as the pace transitioned into a gregarious cantering gallop and the wind whipped your hair around like a battered Old Glory flag in a storm.

"This is too fast!" you had yelled out, but he only laughed, tightening his hold into a squeeze around you and spoke into your ear with a low murmur which instinctively made the goosebumps flare up on your neck.

"I wouldn't let you go even if that horse went mad and flew us off the ground over into a ravine to our deaths."

A little more than six months later after that frivolous adventure, he had dropped to his knee in that very desert and proposed to you, a diamond engagement ring encased in a black box in his palms and you were startled, taken aback at the promptness and faintly aware he was actively seeing at least one other woman at the time, but he had claimed he called it off with her a week ago.

You had cautiously accepted, knowing he was far from a wholesome man, but he was certainly one in a billion and you had unapologetically been with him ever since, even though some friends and extended relatives had openly judged, thinking you were only climbing up a social status ladder by doing so, and a couple of your more left-leaning girlfriends thought you were foolish to already settle for a man at your young age, but you truly loved him. Romance was rather odd; so rushed it could be and yet you felt comfortable around him as if you had known each other for life; soulmates, perhaps, if there ever was such a notion.

The wedding ceremony had been lavish enough to make you feel special, but it had been a more low-key event with only a small group of the closest friends and family in attendance, for he did not want much pomp and circumstance and you had spent the honeymoon at his secluded New Mexico ranch property, bizarrely a sort of prelude to where you both were ending up now. The phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past few weeks and since this work was taking up presidency, it was truth to be told that you hadn't really had time for each other and had been distant these past couple months as he diverted all his focus and intellect to the government and you hoped that after all this preparation, everything would settle somewhat now that he was at the ground level site. You felt trepidation but also excitement because this venture felt relevant and Robert was in his element with the company of like minded individuals all working towards a common goal. His vocation in teaching what he already knew of upper level physics had been boring him lately and he had told you multiple times he was haunted by the pressing need to be essential to the war effort outside of the confines of a classroom; he and his students had to make a real impact and change to the world, to this damned war. And if Robert wasn't the most ambitious, motivated, self-driven intelligent human being you'd ever met, then you'd be stumped to know who was right for the job; he could be dangerously dogged and was as loyal to this country as roots were to their corresponding corn stalks.

And now, starting today, he was the one man scientific director, a ruler really, of this militarized oasis in the middle of, well, nowhere.

Fractions of the place were still in progress, as evident by the trucks and the hammering with the occasional man lumbering past hauling construction boards on his shoulders. The Oppenheimers were still early in arrival, but everyone else on the project was supposed to be settled in by the end of the week. The house you and your husband were to live at was much better off than the cookie-cutter houses hastily put up suburban style along the man-made streets and it was tucked furthest away from the epicenter of town; a large spacious log and stone cabin (that had been formerly a boys' school) ranch style home surrounded by pine trees and shrubs along with a decent yard with that seemed ripe for cultivating a garden, and yet the home was modest and not overly luxurious; this was no vacation.

"The kitchen isn't finished?" you asked in surprise at once upon entry inside and Robert sighed, knowing you how much you had a penchant for cooking and he also knew that hosting gatherings here was going to be essential.

"I'll make sure they get it complete by the end of the week," he assured, resting a hand on the small of your back as you dropped down the luggage on the floor.

"Well, it is rather nice otherwise," you admitted, turning to him and smiling, but he couldn't quite return the gesture.

"Robert, what's the matter?" You reached to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch before lifting up his own hand and placing it atop the one plastered to his face.

"I'm frankly worried how this is all going to work, how soon we can accomplish what we need to do. The death toll in Germany grows by the day, it may already be too late and..."

You placed a hand to his lips, shushing him with sadness.

"Please, shh, I'll have none of that talk when we just arrived in our new house. We are here now and that is the most important first step that matters towards any kind of accomplishment to your saving the world from this hellish war."

"I need to go do some oversight on the operations in town and at the laboratory," he announced abruptly, stepping back from your touch and picking up his briefcase as you nodded, moving with him to the front door.

"I'll see you tonight then. I think I'll make deviled chicken with a creamy coleslaw."

"I'm sure it will be delicious." He gave a tight smile and it was a somewhat ironic statement coming from the man who ate less than a thousand calories a day. That was one frustrating aspect about him that you had discovered when you had moved in with him back in California and realized he never had regular meals, and lately drinks and cigarettes were his main fuel. You hoped one of these days your passion for food would finally rub off on his aversion, but it probably wouldn't happen here with the increased supply rationing.

He disappeared out the door with his hat and you stood for awhile, taking in this new environment inside the main part of the house with its interesting architecture of high beamed ceilings and picture windows that allowed ample amounts of natural light at almost all hours. You spent most of the day unpacking and organizing, briefly going out to greet and visit with the other wives of top scientists, some you already knew, but others you had not met until today and you noticed that one of those you weren't familiar with was visibly pregnant... She was even younger than you and seeing her led you to wonder how quickly this little manufactured desert town was going to see a population boom in the next few years. Robert had brought up the concept of having children with you on more than one occasion, since you had already gone through one miscarriage (only in your first trimester and you never knew the sex of it, the doctor told you it could have been worse if you had carried to full term and lost the infant at birth, but it was still a gutting loss... Although you knew Robert was privately relieved, especially now since his work would likely leave no room in his heart to father an innocent, demanding child and all the burden would go to you alone) and there was the fact of possible infertility. The hardship of procreation probably ran in the family... Your mother had also miscarried, then had your premature brother who caught polio at two years old and perished weeks later, and then she herself had died during your own childbirth, leaving your father devastated and alone to care for you. You had a complicated, strained relationship early on with him and you wondered perhaps Freud was loosely right about the Oedipus complex since you always had such strong attractions to older men... but at least your father always tried to give you the best possible life he had with his wealth, which led you to moving out from your childhood home in New York across the country to pursue attending college in California in the field of psychology and medicine. You had been in the process of getting a degree in nursing, at least until Robert altered your life by his own ambitions and you had been forced to drop your studies temporarily to move out here with him, but you planned to be studying some by correspondence if the government allowed and also to be able to help out in the small hospital on site for an occupation.

To trim the excess fat off a long story short, it had been a bizarre fluke that you met and promptly fell in love with Robert... you were introduced on campus by friends who also knew Jean Tatlock, a budding psychiatrist and proudly Communist, and he had happened to take a bright shine to you. You considered him unattainable at first, a very well respected brilliant physics teacher with more life experience than you could have dreamed of... He was otherworldly at times, yet found grounding earth in your presence, but it would mystify you what exactly he found so desirable in you. You were as lovely as any other woman your age and smart, but you never thought of yourself as outstandingly intelligent when compared to the people he taught in academia, and not absolutely drop dead gorgeous in terms of prize worthy beauty. Perhaps the attraction, like Robert's scientific passion, was on a molecular scale and only bonded by invisible atoms making the illusion of being a solid relationship. Maybe it was as basic as the fact that you two were mutually compatible with each other and respectable of any differences, unlike his other fiery messy relationships with Jean and Katherine. Would you having a baby split that all apart? Personally, you weren't sure you were ready for any offspring yet and to be thrown into motherhood when you were still navigating having a successful marriage and you highly doubted "The Hill" (as the residents here were calling it) would be a healthy environment for children to thrive in, despite the efforts for a school and daycare, seeing that there were armed uniforms milling about all hours of the day and silent stress was already pervasive in every look, cough, and casual conversation you noticed through passing by. And it was only day one of, as Robert predicated, two to three years of hard work swathed in isolated secrecy.

As daylight began to fade fast and inevitably hand itself over to the darkness, you went back to the house to fry up the chicken. The stove was effective, although one burner seemed a little on the fritz, but half of the cabinetry was unfinished and the counter space was minimal.

Laying out the cream-colored napkins and the finest china you had brought packed securely in a box, you delicately set the table. Despite not having a birth mother to guide you through womanhood, you took to home keeping fairly well and religiously read the magazines, believing being married to an upper class man meant all these details and roles. But privately you also felt the crushing pressure and caught yourself wondering if you were immature to be in this mold. Robert never told you otherwise though and he would theoretically be the last man to stamp out a woman's sense of inner individuality, but you couldn't ignore the fact you, while willingly, still had to sideline your educational and career priorities to come support and live here with your husband. But it didn't matter too much, for you knew in your heart you could follow this man to the ends of the earth if you so desired.

For good ambient measure, you lit two pillar candles in the center of the tablecloth and just as you laid the food on a plate, you heard the front door crack open and the soft clomping of shoes.

Robert would never be the 'Honey, I'm home!' type of husband, yet he always managed to make an entrance regardless, especially now. His slender frame leaned into the doorway, hands crumpling his hat in front of his crotch and the candlelight flashed harrowing ghoulish shadows across his sharp cheekbones and dull pinkish lips.

"Well, what do you think?" you proposed, gesturing to the table spread when he didn't speak. He only gazed at your feminine features, his eyes full of desire that wasn't for the dinner you made, and when his mouth finally parted, he spoke in a husky voice, slowly coming closer and abandoning his hat to a chair, closing in on you.

"I'm sure it is very palatable, but I fear my hunger cannot be fulfilled by only earthly consumption," he confessed, ducking to kiss your cheek and moving his hands up to your neck, caressing your nape and moving his mouth to your lips, but you gently pushed him away, pressing into the fabric of his gray suit jacket.

"We should wait until after dinner," you told him earnestly, knowing what he wanted instead.

"Dessert, then?" he murmured, coming close again despite your light physical resistance and thumbing your bottom lip. You smiled and his arm snaked under your skirt and between your thighs, hand crawling upward to your panties and you breathed in, changing your mind.

"Maybe I can wait to eat after all."

His breath caught, a single finger inches from hitting your covered vaginal area, before he removed his teasing hand and pulled back, gripping your shoulders with conviction.

"Eat. You deserve it and you worked hard on preparing it, I can observe."

He bent down, gentlemanly drawing out a chair for you to sit down in, which you did, letting his hands linger at the neckline of your blouse before he walked around to the other side of the small round table and took a seat, rummaging out a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and striking it up with his lighter, the smoke wafting in wispy trails around his head. You took a careful first bite, relishing in the flavor and spices (paprika in particular) as he sat there across from you, relaxing back in his chair and taking a drag on the cigarette, puffing out a sigh. You smirked, swallowing a forkful as he kept his gaze steady on you.

"You're making me self conscious, just sitting there surveying my appetite," you told him and he grinned, fiddling with the cigarette.

"I enjoy watching you eat. You are the very essence of life I see lacking in so much of this world."

You blushed in the warm glow of the candlelight, remaining humble.

"That is quite a compliment I don't know if I'm quite worthy of."

"You are, no jury would contradict me." He nodded sincerely as he smoked and you ate in silence for a few minutes before he then finally gave his cigarette a rest and poked at his food, politely taking a few bites of hot chicken and chewing at a snail's pace.

"How did today go?" you tentatively asked, finishing off your own chicken and moving to the rich, crunchy coleslaw.

"We will be making progress. Although I will always say, that General Groves is the most obstinate man with the exact deposition one would expect from a bulldog," he answered with a touch of bitter amusement.

"Should you be saying that? They're... not listening, are they?" you asked in a hushed paranoid voice, glancing around the room and knowing that the phone lines were tapped for sure, but you weren't certain they would go as far to place bugging devices hidden in the house.

"Relax, I could say much worse," Robert admitted nonchalantly with a harmless shrug and you allowed yourself a chuckle, mentally picturing a bulldog in a General's uniform. You took a bite of cabbage, changing the conversation to your side of social contacts in this limited town.

"I met with our neighbors and the other ladies today. They seem cordial and we have already exchanged pleasantries and plans for a party next weekend. I also offered to babysit one mother's two rambunctious little boys and spoke to the doctor at the medical facility about assistance there."

Robert nodded, gesturing with his empty fork.

"Keeping busy I see, but I'll have to arrange to let you in the office sometime instead of spending your days cooped up here and at the neighbors. I missed you and your insight already today."

"But you know I am not privy to everything you and your scientists are doing here..." you started to protest before he cut you off.

"I'm well aware, but I doubt a visit to my own office will cause a security uproar. You are my wife, Y/N. The reason most of the scientists came to Los Alamos in the first place was not solely the work, but because they could bring their wives, their families. We do our best work with moral and... sexual support." He raised his eyebrows and you felt a tingle run through you, a yearning for exactly what he was suggesting, but you had to finish the meal first.

Once you cleared most of your plate, he surprised you by taking the dishes and quickly rinsing the plates in the sink before making and pouring out his signature martinis. You knew Robert must be silently stressed however, for he only took one sip of his drink before he moved outside under the roof awning with his tobacco pipe, settling down on a folding chair and gazing out at the landscape and listening to the low mumble of military personnel mingling about on patrol as though this were a prison (which it was).

You joined him with a cigarette a few minutes later (you had never smoked a single cigarette until you married Robert and unconsciously adopted the habit, but you weren't much of a smoker when it made you cough, yet you kind of enjoyed the nicotine having that convenient effect of temporarily soothing your nerves) and positioned yourself down next to him, letting the cigarette dangle from your lips while folding your hands neatly on your knees.

His eyelids were appearing heavy and his head drooped, chin tucking down. You gave him a bumping nudge and he looked over at you, teeth clamped down on his pipe.

"Tired?" you wondered and he gave a noncommittal grunt, fixing his eyes back straight ahead. You noticed how still he was - calm - and it was a welcome change from the past few weeks where he had been wound up, constantly on the phone at one point or another and gone for many hours in meetings. But now that nearly everyone was all here, it was almost too tranquil... giving the illusion of calm before potential chaos.

"Oppie!" a young man's voice suddenly called out and he came jogging into view on the rock slabbed pathway, halting slightly when he saw you.

"Oh, good evening Ma'am," he greeted courteously with a squinted smile. You smiled in turn, nodding, and he focused to Robert, who gave a tilt of his pipe in acknowledgement and stood up stiffly.

"Any news I should know about, Feynman?"

The man paused, glancing to you warily.

"Is it about the nature of our work?" Robert asked sharply and Feynman shook his head.

"No, sir, it is not pertaining to that."

"Well, whatever it is you can say in front of my wife and I then."

"It's just a communicative matter. There was a phone call from a young woman asking for you earlier that was flagged in the office for personal matters concerning security. Groves is in a fit and I was to inform you tomorrow, but I thought I'd give fair warning and-"

"Then I will address it tomorrow," Robert interrupted and without further word, took your arm and marched you back inside the house. You shook off his touch and shut the door hard, spinning to address him.

"What the hell was that about?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead while exhaling.

"There are intimate ghosts that continue to haunt me," he answered cryptically, taking refuge in the lounge and sipping his martini, but you had a hunch however who was the "ghost" because you knew her and you pointed a finger sternly at him.

"This is about Jean, isn't it? How does she even know to contact this location? And I thought you were all done with her, as you are with that Katherine!"

"I am, I swear to it. But she is different than any other woman I have been with before you, though. She can be... unstable and she may need to hear from me."

"She just wants your sex, that's all!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"You had nights with her while you were having nights with me during courting, I heard about it from our friends. It was still the sex that was the driving factor that she desired from you."

He looked down, unable to deny that entirely and you backed away, shaking your head.

"I can't believe this, the first day here and you can't shake those Communist ties trailing us."

"May I remind you that you considered fully joining once upon a time in the not so distant past? We met at such a social function, remember?"

You bit your lip and refused to meet his wide eyes staring a hole into you, for this was very well true.

"I did, but I overcame it. It's ridiculous to devote one's energy to an ideology and not to concrete, practical solutions. I was never devoted and absolutely do not consider myself a member. I never was."

This made Robert scowl, setting his glass down with a clink.

"It is my opinion that you should be free to choose your dogmas, if you want any at all that is. Belief is voluntary, but it shouldn't be a crime; we all deserve our wiggle room."

"Is that what she told you too?"

He licked his lips, stepping close so you were involuntarily arrested by his blue eyes boring into yours and his hand slid up your arm, finding your shoulder and the bra strap peeking out from the neckline of the blouse.

"I see you put one on," he muttered and you blinked, almost forgetting about that little detail and refusing to be seduced by his perceptivity.

"Yes, I did. My breasts are still sore from that uncomfortable car ride."

"It's a shame they are so contained now," he whispered, beginning to undo the buttons on the blouse and push his fingers into the crevice between your breasts, but you weren't quite having it after the unresolved discussion and the way he had been moments before.

"We are going to do this now? After what I just accused? And besides, I thought you were too preoccupied and planning to sit out there half the night smoking away by your lonesome while I go to bed."

"You make nights worth bearing awake, especially tonight." He shifted, groping at your breasts and you stumbled back into the wall, breathing in shallow gasps. He put a finger to his lips conspiratorially and hugged your body with his own, speaking discreetly.

"We should be quiet to not disturb any nearby neighbors."

"They can't hear us and besides, I'm sick of piping down," you whined, remembering the date nights out in the desert where he'd lay out a picnic blanket and fuck you right then and there with the horses grazing several feet away and the canopy of stars winking overhead. You'd make as much noise as merited, probably confusing the yipping coyotes far off in the distance.

"I think we can try to control our auditory impulses for one night," Robert whispered, hands going to your waist and tugging at your skirt.

"The bedroom," you gasped, rushing away from him and down the narrow hallway, twisting around as he chased you with a huff.

"Where is it?" you asked anxiously, opening a couple doors and unfamiliar to this section of the house in the minimal lighting, when he suddenly pushed you from behind into an empty room with a single large king bed.

"Only the best for us," he told you and you fell forwards onto it, kicking your heels off and quickly flipping around to your back as he loosened his tie, casting it off to the floor and unbuttoning his white shirt as you sat up, reaching needily for his belt buckle and he leaned over onto you now shirtless and when he met your lips in a frantic kiss, you then noticed the prudent stench of sweat on his skin that was disrupting his usual familiar smoky flavor mixed with cologne and aftershave.

"Wait," you ordered, pressing a hand up on his collarbone.

"What is it?" he implored worriedly, searching your expression for the solution.

"Bath, you should bathe. It's been a few days and this heat isn't helping. Hasn't anyone told you that you reek like a dog?"

He groaned mournfully, leaning back and unfastening the belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk of metal.

"You won't let me have you until I do?" he asked sadly, but you had an idea.

"What if I join you?"

His eyes sparked at this notion and you moved off the bed, finding the bathroom across the hall. This house was one of only a few equipped with tubs instead of showers; they didn't call this street "Bathtub Row" for nothing.

Robert finished undressing in front of you, tugging down his trousers and boxers, springing forth an already ready penis.

"You're going to make me work for it tonight, aren't you?" he asked as he stepped into the large basin, turning on the faucet and letting out a gasp when a strong stream of water blasted onto his bare feet.

"J-Jesus Christ, it's freezing!" he exclaimed loudly with a sputter and frantically slamming a hand on the knob as you laughed from your spot by the sink, taking out your earrings and slipping off your small wristwatch.

"Get in, I was warned about the water supply around here possibly being fickle, even for us," he commanded as you finagled your skirt and blouse off with your bra and panties discarded to the bathroom floor before taking a leg over the tub and stepping in to sit down across from him, letting the tub fill up one third of the way as a sitz bath before awkwardly reaching around him to grab the bar of ivory soap from the dish and began to rub into his back with it.

"I should've put in a request for an even larger bath," he complained as you scrunched up your legs against his and scrubbed dutifully into the folds of his skin.

"It'll do fine, darling."

He took the soap and you both took turns lathering each other up, making frothy circles with the creamy soap and rinsing, the water streaming down into the tub again, flooding both yours and his soapy complexion, washing it all off down the drain before having it fill up again, this time three quarters of the way. The water now pleasantly lukewarm, Robert contorted his body to submerge his head under the waterline and he came up with a loud splash, his wiry dark hair flattening to a wet mess on his forehead as your own dampened and you watched the droplets of water collect on his somewhat pallid skin. He scooted closer, entangling legs, and couldn't resist a quick dart of a finger down to your vagina and you whimpered as he touched your clitoris, inserting into you and making you arch your back and buck your hips when he inserted another finger, exploring around your wet velvety walls.

"God, Robert..." you moaned, digging your nails into the grooves of his skin and up to his head, feeling the cropped soaked scalp and neck. He suddenly lightly shoved you against the side of the tub, pressing his mouth to yours and naturally winding his tongue in, kissing you passionately until the water temperature grew too cold and you shivered, glued to his body and burying your face into his wet shoulder.

"That was merely the first act, sweetheart," he whispered and you smiled, leaning back a few inches so he could get up and step out onto the bath mat, taking your hand as he did so to pull you up and guide you out. Robert grabbed a large towel from the rack and wound it around the both of you, letting his genitals press up against yours and you both stood there for a while, listening to the steady drip-drop-drip-drop-drip-drop of falling water to the flooring.

"I'm surprised you've held off this long," you murmured, feeling his rising erection in between your thighs.

"I truly can't wait any longer," he admitted urgently and the towel dropped with a flump to the floor, and with bodies still slick with water, you and him exited the bathroom to fumble to the bedroom and the blue light from the window illuminated the sheets, the ideal love making spot. He let you collapse on your back and easily came down on top, gripping the back of your neck and already plunging in to align, but you squirmed in dissatisfaction.

"So soon?" you whined, wanting to play with and taste him first, but he was antsy to get to the pinnacle.

"Your virtuous patience should be framed and put on the walls of this house, along with your divine beauty," he whispered, head moving down to your breasts and you dug your fingers into his bare back, running along the bones of his more pronounced spine.

"C'mon, Oppie, let's do this the fun way... Give it to me," you begged and he cringed slightly, but rolled over onto his side and you immediately found his stiff penis with your hands, clenching around it firmly and stroking. He moaned softly and it flexed in your grasp... He could be a decent size when engaged, which was impressive for his underweight body.

"But don't you dare let me go without seeding you inside," he warned as though you had all the control.

"That's the plan."

Wordlessly, you positioned yourself down to the head of his cock and licked off his pre-cum, the recognizable taste milky on your tongue and you sucked, bringing it halfway in and fondling his balls lovingly in the meantime. He was breathing heavily and you didn't linger long at his member however because you could tell he was getting very close and neither you nor him wanted him to release anywhere other than the intended internal target. Pulling out and licking your lips, you repositioned your body on top of his and sank down flat to his chest, and he thrusted his hips up to meet you, heaving in with a grunt. You winced at the initial entry; you were always so sensitive down there (especially since the miscarriage), and he steadily kept at it, probing in further without being too rough.

"Fuck..." you breathed with a cry and he came forward to smooch your cheek as you mounted your hands on his shoulders and he pumped in and out, shaking the entire bed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, my love," he breathed, keeping an intense gaze trained on you.

"Robert..." you groaned, letting him push as far as he could go until the pleasure was overloading and you felt his hot wet spurt of cum hit, eliciting a long moan from him, his slender frame shuddering beneath you. He closed his eyes and you kept a firm clench around his shaft, not ready to have him pull out yet. Gasping, you began rocking back and forth with ecstasy, your insides stretched to their limit and he seemed to know you were struggling to hold him.

"I'm coming out," he muttered and gently pulled back wetly so he wasn't balls deep in you anymore and then you repositioned to lightly ride him, which was your favorite position, and you bounced up and down on his upright full cock, orgasming a few more times as he watched your euphoria in rapture, so proud he alone could make you like this over and over until you were out of air and exhausted, collapsing to the side of the bed and feeling the sheets very damp with bodily juices.

Robert spooned you from behind, arms draped over to dangle his fingers on your swollen nipples and you matched his breathing in rhythm. Every time was somehow better than the last... Sex with him was as natural as breathing and you appreciated the consistent chemistry that you worried would have faded after a couple years of marriage due to what you'd heard about stress and boredom destroying a couple's sex drive, but Robert was not a boring person in the least sense of the term.

"We should do this every night," you offered hopefully and he chuckled.

"And make me the most lucky, tired man in this whole community? I'd be up for that, although it'll be a wonder if I get any work done at all when I've got this memory lingering with me tomorrow," he replied and you heard the smile in his tone, but with it came the bitter resurgence of the likely phone call from another woman that was bile in the back of your throat and even though he supposedly broke it off with her before you got married, you knew he had stayed in contact and you couldn't help but wonder how he fucked her and if it was comparable to what you and him had with each other, since she seemed to want him so badly. That wasn't to mention "Kitty" who he had insisted on still being "friends" with. A bit depressed and irritated, you pushed away his hands off your breasts and turned back over to face him in the dimness that made even those prominent blue colored eyes of his too muddled to see into.

"How did you become the most desired physicist to women in the whole country?" you asked softly.

"Good genes?" he guessed in amusement and you shook your head, not requiring a punchline.

"You're known to be a womanizer, neurotic, eccentric, a tad arrogant, and yet everybody seems to want you, including me as your own wife. Tell me, why did the universe give you such magnetized gifts?"

He gave a subtle lift of his shoulders with a small lazy smile as you laid your head on the pillow, fending off fatigue.

"Why was Aphrodite the one chosen to be blessed with such beauty and fertility? Why are we the way that we are? There are some matters of the human being to be unfounded in the definitive and everything is relative." He sat up with his back against the headboard and proceeded to light another cigarette and you sleepily watched the hazy smoke drift off above the bed towards the ceiling. He sighed, setting it to rest in the ashtray on the nightstand and wrap his lean arm around your body, drawing you close into his side.

"You are my goddess, Y/N. You are the only woman I want to return home too, always. Don't you know that?" he murmured into your hair and you vaguely nodded.

"I do, but I also know you're not always the most faithful man."

He lifted his hand and touched his ring finger to yours, matching the simple gold bands you both shared as two united.

"I married you out of good faith and the vows we pledged might have well been written in stone in the language of the gods along on the pulmonary arteries flowing as though a river into my heart," he told you with no trace of doubt, but you knew the whole story that didn't need flourishing.

"Only because the two other women fell through on commitment - although tonight I suspect they both presumably still want you - and one was already hitched, so she was having an affair by being with you and wouldn't divorce unless you happened to get her pregnant. I just happened to be the most available, the convenient bride with no attached strings, even though everyone said it was abnormally soon and I am too young," you recounted bitterly and he frowned, tilting your chin upward.

"Is that how you see it? I have never fallen for someone as fast and as hard as I did for you. I still feel the way I did when I laid a glimpse on you at Mary Ellen Washburn's party."

You smiled despite yourself and he bent to kiss the top of your head as you snuggled into his chest, absentmindedly fondling his moist cock with your fingers.

"I do love you beyond comprehension, Y/N," he whispered and you glanced up, meeting his look.

"I do too and I want to believe I always will, until the end of our existence. I am not those other women and I do not want to become so."

A solemn seriousness grew over him and he closed his eyes as you felt tears suddenly spike and an unexplainable terrible sense of dread came over you.

"Promise me one thing, Robert." You paused, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me that whatever happens to us in this world, in this setting, that you will always find a way home and whatever we face, we face together."

He gave a single nod, but you sensed reluctance in the way a muscle in his jaw made a minor spasm.

"I will always do my best."

"Alright," you resigned and he sighed, relaxing back and settling down into the sheets, further roping his arms around you and you burrowed your face into his chest, feeling his light hair follicles tickle your forehead. Tomorrow - and the future for that matter - was uncertain, but at least tonight was building up to a promise of solid sureness, a safeness, bonding those atoms of love again.

Love, or the feeling of it, was a lot like quantum mechanics; essentially invisible to the naked eye and complicated, but the one difference was that it was unmeasurable. No amount of numbers or equations could add up the real affection you felt for your husband, even when the waters became too choppy to be comfortable and it was far from perfect. You just had to cement the fact that you were Mrs. Oppenheimer and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, any disruptive external factors be absolutely damned to hell.

Thanks for reading, expect a little drama for chapter 2... And I do not have a full outline to every part of this fic, so please be patient as I find spare time to work on it and upload. I always appreciate any likes, reblogs, and feedback ❤️

*If anyone would be interested in being tagged, drop a comment and I'll make a tag list for the next part!*

[nayatarot777]

Karma For Your Fake Best-Friend

• Pile One •

The first message that I’m seeing is that your fake best friend will have to give birth (figuratively) to a very difficult beginning. This is part of their karma because this beginning is full of Saturnian energy, and Saturn is the planet of karma. They will have to help other people with very difficult times in their lives which may be something that they didn’t do before because I’m picking up on a very selfish energy from this person. However, now other people’s situations and what other people have created for themselves and their lives will leave your best friend as the helper - which they’re clearly not happy about. I’m hearing that this person made their bed and now they have to lie in it. They’re stagnant. They feel restricted from creating anything new in their life. For someone in particular, I’m getting a very dark message and that’s about how your best friend could experience difficulty either literally giving birth or difficulty getting pregnant which will cause a lot of distress. The burdens that they are feeling from this karma are going to make them feel extremely aged. They are going to feel like they’re the one who is being forced to be responsible in comparison to everyone else - for the sake of everyone else - while they’re feeling like this should be in reverse. They feel like everyone else should feel responsible for them but that’s not going to happen.

They’re going to lose a lot. Their life is going to seem empty and bare. This could be about them losing possessions that they found integral to their identity such as clothing and jewellery, or they could lose their money which was a huge part of their identity. I’m just seeing this person really having to count their blessings and the little that they have left. I’m also hearing that this person is going to become physically sick due to anxiety and this will show on their face and in their body. They’re going to look physically unwell and that feeds into the message about them feeling like they’re physically and internally aging under this difficult change. One of the things that they are going to have to count as a blessing are the positive memories that they have from the past. They’re going to have to hold onto these memories quite tightly because they are incapable of creating new and positive memories for themselves again. They feel restricted from creating anything in their life. They’re not going to see a way out of their anxiety. They are constantly being placed in positions that confuse them. That make them worry and that leaves their minds incapable of interpreting what they need to clearly. They’re going to be trapped in their head and feeling like there is no way out.

For some in this pile, this fake best friend downplayed your anxiety or treated your anxiety as if it wasn’t a real thing or as if it wasn’t important, and now they’re experiencing severe anxiety that’s trapping them in a mental space that they don’t want to be in. There are three cards in total here about new life and new creation, so there’s a major emphasis on how nothing new will come into their life for a very long time because the energy of Saturn is very slow moving. It’s the one of the slowest moving planets in our solar system, so any karma - positive or negative - that we experience due to Saturn is prolonged for a very long time. This person‘s life will consist of the same-old stressful, burdensome routine. They have to watch everyone else around them in their life, moving onto bigger and better things. Moving onto new pathways and lifestyles that clearly fill them with inspiration and joy and happiness, but they’re going to be left out of this. This is definitely affecting their dating life too. They’re not going to experience meeting anyone new and their dating life could be something that they identified with. They could be very relationship-oriented people and they might feel like they don’t know what to do without a partner. Whether this is a committed partner or someone who is just entertaining them for the time being. Either way, they’re not going to experience any new flame or any new passions in the area of dating. This person is having to feel fragmented. There’s a lot of dissociation here. They feel like they can’t get up off the ground and they feel like they can’t move forward in their life because they’re plagued with a sense of weakness and fragility. Their mind is very fragile too. They feel like they are a very fragile person who’s easy to damage and break. They feel very broken. Especially mentally. Their intuition is also going to be damaged. Their perspective on people and things as well as themselves will also be very distorted. They won’t be able to see clearly in an intuitive way.

Extended Reading: How Do They Feel + What Do They Think About You/This Situation?

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Personal Reading Info

• Pile Two •

This fake best friend pretended to be innocent. They wore a mask of someone who was all about helping and healing, as if they were someone who couldn’t hurt a fly. But in actuality, they pretend to embrace and accept others for the sake of helping people who they’re actually leading to their demise. It’s almost like this person sees people as lambs who they lead to slaughter. They underestimate other people’s intelligence and it’s probably because they prey upon genuinely innocent and soft people - and you are most likely one of them. However, as their karma, they’re going to end up being seen as the innocent lamb being led to someone else’s slaughter house. This sounds very graphic because it is. It’s very sinister - just like their energy is. They’re going to be baited by someone who also portrays themselves as innocent, just like they do, and whoever this person is that meets your fake best friend, they are going to see your best friend as a genuinely innocent and unassuming victim of their’s. This person is encountering someone who is exactly like them and this is someone who they’ll be in a very strange romantic relationship with.

They are going to be drained by this person energetically because this person is a huge energy vampire and this person is also very possessive over this fake best friend. However, the possessiveness is overlooked by onlookers because this person pretends to be loving and innocent towards your fake best friend, but there’s something very strange about their relationship. This fake friend is clearly not happy in this relationship but they feel trapped. And they might not even know why because, on the surface, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. But energetically they are picking up on the fact that this person that they’re in a relationship with is someone who is actually very dangerous for them to be around - although they can’t pinpoint why. This person who they’re with has a very good mask of innocence. It’s funny how this works because you’d think that your fake best friend (being a master of glamour magic to the point of being able to lure people in with an innocent facade) would also be good at pointing out another person’s fake and innocent facade - but they’re not. This fake friend will be trying to practice positivity but they’re going to struggle with this. They’re not going to see a happy horizon for them to move towards.

They are going to feel a sense of emptiness as if there are holes in their soul that they can’t fill. As if there’s a hole in their mind that they can’t mend. They’re going to feel like they can’t make sense of anything nor can they feel anything. This person is hitting rock bottom. There’s something about this person’s ability to learn being painful for them. This is a very painful learning experience for them. The lesson that they attract what they are. And that because of the fact that who they are is not a good person, they’ve attracted someone who is not a good person either. It seems like whatever they feel like they know about relationships or people or themselves is being shattered. They might have perceived themselves as a very intelligent person who could get away with anything if they were sly enough, but that ego is being shattered and it’s almost like they’re seeing the Uno reverse 😂. They felt like they were the one in control of others this entire time. When in reality, they’re the ones being controlled and encroached upon. People aren’t going to have sympathy for this person when they cry about how depressed they are. Nor about how much pain they are in. Nobody is going to have sympathy or empathise with them and that’s most likely because people can’t really see or feel the sinister energy from their partner like they can. I’m also seeing that people will dismiss their feelings and tell them to just be positive. Kind of like toxic positivity. Their anger and triggers in this relationship will also be downplayed and dismissed by their partner, so there’s an energy of them forcing themselves to pretend to be happy when they’re actually the complete opposite.

Extended Reading: How Do They Feel + What Do They Think About You/This Situation?

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Personal Reading Info

• Pile Three •

This fake best friend was someone who enjoyed invading your boundaries and violating your boundaries too. This is someone who tried to dominate. This is someone who makes people feel like they are vulnerable and powerless. This person brought a lot of death moments to your life. A lot of permanent endings. They could’ve tried to dominate your energy and your boundaries through clinging to you in someway or trying to always be around you, and this was the way that they tried to cause permanent endings in your life. By distracting you from the things that you needed to do or not leaving you with enough space and time to focus on yourself. They made you feel obligated to do this. As for their karma, they’re experiencing all of this for themselves. They’ve invaded someone else’s boundaries and that person is getting vengeance. Your fake best friend is going to feel the need to go into hiding. And this is some intense isolation which is something that they are not used to because I’m seeing that they are quite vampiric towards others’ energy. They feed off of other people. So this intense isolation will cause them to feel very alone and ignored.

I’m seeing a lot of paranoia for this person. They’re not going to let anyone in because they’re trying to get away from the person who is now trying to invade their boundaries - but this is someone who your fake best friend invaded the boundaries of first. This person acts like they’re not aware of how they hurt people, but this person’s karma is that they’re going to hurt themselves and not even realise it. They’re going to be blinded to the pain that they are causing themselves through this paranoia and through this overprotective energy that they have over themselves. This person is trying to find peace inside of that isolation, but this is out of reach for them because they know that someone is extremely vengeful and out to get them. Someone is looking for them and waiting to act on their vengeance and this fake best friend can’t relax.

Extended Reading: How Do They Feel + What Do They Think About You/This Situation?

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Personal Reading Info

[dingodad]

which of your fantrolls are derse and which are prospit. and do you believe there's a meaningful divide?

these guys inherited their dream moons pretty straightforwardly from the characters they were inspired by.

dream moon feels kind of like the most astrology esque of all of homestuck's astrology type systems LOL in that basically all of the characters inherited them based on totally arbitrary circumstance (same moon as the rest of my family members, same moon as the rest of the players who wanted to join team vriska / team equius, etc.) and the comic never once seems to try to explain it in any deeper terms than that. so any analysis of what they might mean is just trying to find patterns in disparate personalities. (i guess dream moon being significant is a real thing now that it's included in the official aspect test but i'm not even going to bother looking those up because i don't really care that much. lol)

there are some interpretations i've found interesting.. like prospit dreamers playing active roles and being protagonists while derse dreamers are behind the scenes actors and backgrounders is so obviously true but it also seems so redundantly similar to active + passive classes. and the one about prospit dreamers being upfront with their personalities and derse dreamers hiding behind a mask is fun for explaining oddities like dersite nepeta but falls apart for other characters.

so i've never once thought about what moon "fits" a character before deciding where they go, i 100% always just sort them towards the beginning of the design process and then soooometimes when i develop a character further i will take their lunar sway into account and think about how it might contribute to their personality or arc. but it's usually a more personalised thing, like, what does being on prospit or on derse mean to that character in particular.. so i wouldn't say i think of there being a "divide" between the two. their significances can vary. while being a derse dreamer obviously doesn't MAKE you a villain for instance it's easy to justify why a villain might belong on derse and a dersite villain might be very different to a prospitian villain. <- thinking about it harder right now than i probably ever have before in my life

[mama-qwerty]

I debated making this post for a long time. Something's been eating at me for a while, and I couldn't figure out what until very recently.

So I haven't felt inspired to really work on my writing for weeks. The hate and anger being spewed toward the SCU in general, and the Knuckles series in particular, has really affected me more than I thought it did.

I came into the Sonic fandom by way of the movies. I love that universe, I love the characters, Knuckles being my favorite. My writing is primarily for the movieverse. That's what I'm comfortable with, and what interests me to really dig into.

Yes, I love game Knux. I've written some stuff for him, and that's great. He's fun to play with, too. But the SCU is where I 'live'.

I know the series is extremely polarizing. You either like it or hate it, and I get that it won't be everyone's cup of tea. I get that they did some things in it that were odd and didn't make much sense. I would have handled some things differently, too. It wasn't without its flaws.

But overall I found it a fun ride, and took it for what it was intended as - bonus content that likely won't have that much sway over anything upcoming in the movies. Not everyone will be able to see the show, after all, so they can't drop any major lore or additional stuff that's need to know for the rest of the verse.

I've seen more than one person claim that they hated the show so much they now hate the SCU in general. That Knuckles' portrayal was so different from what they were expecting, they're hurt and sad and angry about it. Totally get that. They feel betrayed. Understandable.

But what I'm feeling now is also a form of betrayal, because I felt accepted and welcomed into the Sonic fandom, and now that the SCU is viewed with such disgust and anger, moreso than before, I feel judged for enjoying it. I feel hurt and sad and angry that people are being so down on and dismissive of SCU Knux, a Knuckles I absolutely adore, simply because he's not being portrayed like he is in the games or other media.

Like someone came into a secret place I felt most safe and comfortable, took a look at something that made me happy, and sneered with a "You like that?"

I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm in no way policing what people can talk about, or saying they can't hate something I enjoy. I'm not saying they're not entitled to voice their opinion on something. They're as free to talk about it as I am.

But I'd be lying if I said this didn't bother me. More than I thought it would.

Maybe I'm being too thin-skinned, or over sensitive. Maybe I'm just sick of all the hate thrown around in general. Maybe I'm hoping that giving 'voice' to how I'm feeling will help me work through it and feel better.

All I know is that I'm feeling uncomfortable really engaging with a lot of the fandom right now, and it's making me really sad.

[max1461]

My first encounter with the broad concept of "people who want to live in the woods" came in the form of seeing people, online and in media, actually living in the woods, in one capacity or another.

As a teenager I watched Ray Mears' Bushcraft. It's a really good show that I would strongly recommend to just about anyone. Ray Mears (who in fact popularized the term "bushcraft") is a British wilderness survival/outdoorsmanship expert, and in Bushcraft he travels around the world, meeting with people who still practice some form of traditional subsistence-off-the-land, and documenting their knowledge and techniques. He shows traditional bushcraft in the Amazon, among aboriginal Australians, etc., and talks to the people who practice it about their way of life.

This show had a pretty big impact on me as a young person. I was already avidly interested in nature and the outdoors, and I had been intrigued by the concept of "wilderness survival" since watching Survivorman as a kid. There was something very appealing about the idea of placing oneself in nature with as few barriers as possible; getting to experience the natural world not just in a removed, "sightseeing" way, but in a real, engaged and "tactile" way. But what Mears presented added an additional layer of appeal: "wilderness survival" not as a chaotic fray to stay alive, but as a body of skills, refined over the centuries, which can be taught and learned. A mature art, something sophisticated and deep, in which one can become a practitioner. Something, in other words, a lot like mathematics, which I already knew that I liked, and a lot like language, which I had just recently become aware I was fascinated by. This inspired in me a much more lasting and serious interest in bushcraft. I began reading about it more seriously, and practicing as much of it as I could (not very much) in my parents' back yard.

I still count "becoming truly proficient in bushcraft" as one of my life goals, although I am not anywhere near that point yet.

A further point stressed by Ray Mears was that these traditional bushcraft techniques are a dying art. As people's lifestyles change, they are not getting passed on, and soon they may be lost. I want to stress here (because I'm on tumblr, where Big Ideas and Grand Narratives rule) that I have no desire to chastise people for living a different lifestyle than their grandparents! That's fine! I do not believe that, I don't know, the children of bushcraft experts should be forced by government decree to live in the woods or whatever. I have to make this clear, because "what should we force people to do by government decree?" seems often to be the only level at which tumblr discoursers are willing to think. What I am claiming is that this loss of knowledge is sad, it is unfortunate, and being that I and others (including most principally many of the practitioners) would not like to see these arts die out, it would be nice if they continued to be taught and learned and thereby passed on into posterity.

There need not be some kind of Decree! Maybe people just do some kind of outreach, as Mears himself did, and get more people interested in these things. Maybe, if you're an Amazonian guy or an aboriginal Australian guy, you do that outreach in a community-internal way, because your desire is principally to increase interest community-internally. I don't know; my whole point here is that I'm not really trying to get into the political dimension of this. That's not where my interests lie. Other than expressing a general sentiment that "bushcraft is cool and readers of my blog should think it's cool", I don't have any particular agenda here.

Anyway, this is the sum total of the context in which "people going out and doing shit in the woods" existed for me until just a few years ago. Then I came into the internet discoursosphere, around 2020, and I realized two things very quickly:

everyone was debating the relative merits of living in the woods

no one seemed to have any interest in or experience with anything even passingly related to living in the woods on a practical level, either first- or second-hand.

It was all, all this purely abstract, "theory"-based, grand narrativizing politico-philosophical debate. Nobody gave a shit about friction fire-lighting or shelter construction at an object level. Nobody gave a fucking shit!

This is a microcosm, and in fact not just a microcosm but perhaps the type case, of why I hate the discourse. The discourse is insistent on taking everything real in the world, everything that is (permit me to get a bit philosophical myself) vibrant and living and actual, and turning it into this dreary, sterile, empty word game. Are the Marxists the True Leftists or are the Anprims the True Leftists? Which one is it? I don't know and I don't care. Why is our interest in being in nature mediated by meaningless word game abstractions? Why must our interest in science or history be reduced to meaningless word game abstractions (shape rotator/wordcel discourse)? Why must our interest in, say, video games be reduced to meaningless word game abstractions (any of the thousand video game discourses)? Etc. etc.

It's actively, fucking, toxic to the idea of just being a person in the world. Everything you do has to be some symbol in a bullshit fucking symbol game. Worse, everything everybody else does becomes to you a symbol in a symbol game, even if they aren't playing.

I am dedicated to an alternate project. I want to be in the world and I want to be in it with others. In fact, I am so dedicated to this, that I can appreciate the reality of others' lived experience and actions even in spite of the symbol games they might be playing, even if I think these symbol games might be a little bit bullshit. This is a plainly virtuous way to be. This is the way I was raised to interact with people; it is parablized in various different ways, we're told (among other things) "everyone has a story", and "everyone is valuable in their own way", and so on. And these things may seem trite but they are true, they are obviously fucking true and many people in "discourse" have forgotten.

There are some anarchists who are really into urban community gardening. They're into it for various reasons. Some feel that it gives them autonomy over and knowledge of their own food in a way that buying things at the grocery store does not. That's fair, and kinda cool. If you're into that I support you. Some of them think that the whole economy could be replaced with urban community gardens. That's a bit silly. But I will come to these "silly" anarchists' defense every single time without question, because, fuck, they're doing something. I mean they're fucking doing something, ya know? They see meaning in this thing, and they're doing it, and that's cool! I would rather go to the overly idealistic anarchist community garden than the just-the-right-tendency Marxist reading group or whatever the fuck every single time.

Buncha "got lost in the world of symbols and forgot what they signify" mfers on this world wide web of ours istg.

[illegiblewords]

SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: THE DEAD THREE

Finished my first/main playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3, and it’s had me turning over all sorts of ideas tied to Dungeons and Dragons lore. A bunch happens to be about cosmology so I'm slapping together one post about the Dead Three and a follow-up about deities more generally. Buckle up if you decide to proceed dudes. This is chunky and opinion/interpretation heavy. CW for mention (not extensive) of graphic violence and sex crimes during discussion of Bhaal and Yeenoghu.

MYRKUL

I get that there are multiple death-affiliated deities in DnD. Our buddy Jergal is the end of all things and the original incarnation of the concept. Myrkul stands for the experience of dying, decay, necromancy, graves, bones, and the fear of mortality. Kelemvor rules over the dead. Orcus is a demon lord and quasi-deity of undeath. Could prob go on.

I've read many different incarnations of death over the years. To set the stage on my Myrkul read, it bears mentioning that Terry Pratchett's Death is probably my favorite. I don't have it in me to see death as something totally malicious. It's very natural, and I tend to imagine that if there were to be an incarnation embodying it this persona would have an intimate view of all the love and grief, vulnerability and intimacy, ugliness and solitude, etc. that mortals deal with. Death has witnessed the end every living being faces, from the dawn of creation until now. Even if it isn't consciously accessed at all moments, death is ancient and experienced and not likely to be shocked by what mortals are capable of anymore. Mortals are small. Uncountably numerous though we are we are far outnumbered by the unliving. What are lives next to planets, to stars? Here I'd argue against assigning value according to how big or small something is, how eternal or how brief, how simple or complex. Everything that is, is a universe unto itself and deserves the gravity of that. It is also very mundane at the same time. To me, death needs to be able to balance the preciousness and commonality of life, of existence, on the tip of its scythe. Death needs to be able to deal with the most depraved beings to exist, but also with every beloved pet put to sleep. Every lost child or parent. Everyone who dies surrounded by loved ones and everyone who dies alone.

Initially, even knowing Myrkul in particular had been a mortal necromancer and not of particular moral standing--I had mixed feelings about him being the evilest of evil skeletons. He worked it well, but the idea of any aspect of death (or any character tbh) being flat evil felt off to me. Especially with 'we're all the protagonists of our own stories' being at work. People don't often look at what actions they'd consider to be evil then go 'I'm going to make myself that on purpose'. Disregarding morality maybe, but being evil on purpose is weird.

So I looked into further lore about Myrkul. One spot that gave me pause was that Myrkul as death (rather than the adventurer Myrkul Bey al-Kursi he’d once been) revels in inspiring fear of death and driving home experiences of loss. From what I found he isn't focused on the name of the individual holding the office of death, but for the force itself being feared. He can be bribed, and he will allow for necromancy/resurrections--but the fear and gravity of death is a sacred thing to him. Disregarding that is a pretty good way to get onto Myrkul's shitlist. I want to take a moment to emphasize the importance of Myrkul focusing on his portfolio over his own ego. That is far from a given in the DnD pantheon, and like I said he's a former mortal himself. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to be a petty and insecure deity. He could have been the sort of guy where becoming a god of death by itself wasn't enough power. If Myrkul was a different person, he might have wanted people to stroke his ego and say how strong he is. He might have been someone who felt inadequate as a god without that affirmation. He could have (as a character) been unsatisfied and forever wanting/dependent upon the views of others to define himself. The fact that he DOES focus on death and decay as forces rather than himself is a big deal in reading him imo.

Anyway. Myrkul's emphasis on death as something feared got me thinking about what would cause a person to put such weight on death being understood in its negative aspect. It struck me that this is actually a very common and even important thing. You don't need to demonize death to see it, either. If you value life as sacred, the idea of life being treated as cheap or disposable is horrifying. When you love something dearly, the idea of that beloved thing being defaced is beyond outrage. It's a kind of sacrilege. People who kill as casually as breathing, who revel in the permanent destruction of someone else, become a source of horror. The absence of love creates a sort of cruelty that can't even perceive itself. And it's not uncommon for human beings in particular to partake in this. Humans dance on the graves of those they deem enemies not because they're relieved to be safe, but because they glory in the end of other lives. They don't recognize that anything of value was lost. There is no tragedy in death anymore. Every gentle moment, every vulnerability, every tragedy in their opponent's life is something to be crapped on and gloated over. There is no greater insult to life itself. Myrkul stands as a reminder that such behavior cannot stand. You can't treat life or death as cheap. To see something horrific and fail to realize the weight of its horror is itself a form of horror. The idea of a death that demands to be acknowledged for what it is, particularly by the living, imo actually denotes a level of care for life too. It might be harsh or ugly, but I don't know about evil. So while Myrkul is certainly flawed and often serves as an antagonist, I’d argue the function he performs is not only important but necessary.

And while it might vary between players, I found Aylin's enthusiastic executions and body defiling pretty uncomfortable. I understand she went through a lot and am fine with her as a character. But I think Myrkul's point stands if the audience feels even a moment of disquiet seeing her celebrate over the corpse of a broken person.

Some things are meant to be ugly.

BANE

Of the Dead Three I find Bane the most disturbing and dangerous tbh—but not for how Gortash invokes him. Way I see it, the other word for tyranny is authoritarianism on a macro-level, abuse on an individual level.

I’d argue that in life, we can only healthily control ourselves and our own individual actions/choices. We can try to persuade others or appeal to their judgment, but we can’t MAKE another person think or act how we wish. When folks attempt otherwise (individually or more broadly) it involves fear, force, deceit, or other forms of pressure. Coercion, enslavement. These fall under the umbrella of tyrannical practice to me. You treat another person as subhuman and strip them of agency.

We don’t live in a pure and ideal world. If a tyrannical person is committing crimes and denying others their free will through force, I wouldn’t call defense through force tyrannical as long as it wasn’t needlessly excessive. Power struggles exist. But the whole practice of using fear, force, deceit, or pressure to control another person is dangerous imo. They're to be utilized as little as possible.

In DnD I don’t think the fringe evil cults would be the ones most at risk for corruption by Bane. I don't think individuals or groups who prioritize self-indulgence would be most at risk, either. The most dangerous and frequent disciples of Bane imo would be within good alignment. This means followers of benevolent gods as well as the nations or groups that consider themselves to have righteous causes. ESPECIALLY those with chips on their shoulders.

When someone assumes they have and always will have the moral high ground, that they are incapable of committing injustice, that their end justifies whatever means, that it doesn’t count as abuse with the 'correct' target… that, to me, is where tyranny festers. The person convinced of their own moral infallibility is the one who sees no need for brakes and so cuts them without concern.

I’d argue everybody has a seed of tyranny in them that can be fed or starved. We feed that seed with our own indignation to become a tyrant victimizing others while still seeing ourselves as powerless. The person who first victimized you can still also be victimized by you. There isn’t a target that exists where finding joy in cruelty gets a pass.

Bane, I think, thrives on the idea that it's no problem if you're enforcing your will. Especially on people contemptible to you.

For DnD purposes, imagine you have zealous followers of idk Tyr. They are willing to do whatever it takes to enforce and spread their definition of justice. They believe in making examples of people at every opportunity. They torture, isolate, rob, and shame those they consider to be unjust or dangerous. If their victims are falsely accused—well. It’s for a noble purpose so the sacrifice is not in vain. And imagine Tyr abandons these followers as hypocrites. He no longer empowers clerics or paladins no matter how they cite scripture or brand ‘heretics’ with his symbols.

Bane doesn’t enter calling himself Bane, god of tyranny. Bane claims to follow a higher justice. Maybe he uses an avatar, maybe he chooses a Banite disciple, maybe he finds a true believer. But he argues that Tyr as an individual was never ultimately what those zealots stood for—it was justice itself. And if Tyr has turned traitor to his own portfolio, mortals need to go over his head to the core concept and implement that. Bane offers a name that suits his purposes and begins sourcing power to clerics and paladins instead. And throughout, as the zealots commit increased atrocities against those they deem dangerous or evil they fail to realize they’ve spiraled into evil alignment after all. They’d think they were either just as good as they’d always been OR BETTER. The compassion of Ilmater is spent on the depraved and corrupt as far as they’re concerned.

I think the real threat of Bane is that he should be 100% capable of corrupting an otherwise heroic party member if they aren’t wary of that capacity in themself. You suddenly find your friend who listened to your problems and supported you through awful shit mocking a person sobbing on the ground as they kick them. And that friend looks betrayed and hurt (or outraged) if you challenge their actions, because they think you should know exactly how disgusting this piece of shit is and how much they deserve the abuse. And even if you concede that individual case—it’s not the only one. The slights worthy of torment become smaller and smaller. A thought or word out of line betrays the ideology of an evil alignment, with the only solution being to beat thoughts and words out of the target until they can only repeat approved ideas back. And even then, it may not be enough.

If it was explicitly confirmed that the deity the zealot followed was Bane all along, the zealot might genuinely not believe it. They might get pissed at the very suggestion. What they do against the wicked isn’t tyranny after all. They’re righteous.

Denial doesn’t serve to disempower Bane in the least if tactics remain unchanged.

BHAAL

I’m holding off on more detailed Bhaal thoughts until I complete a dark urge run, but I’ve listened to lore on both him and the demon lord Yeenoghu recently—and I think there’s room for a really cool potential contrast.

Yeenoghu Lore

Providing this particular video link for the curious, as a way to help illustrate what I’m drawing from.

Yeenoghu holds the title as demon lord of slaughter. He glories in filth, rape, excessively graphic murder, torture, violence, and playing with corpses along the way. He’s meant to come across as a bestial, self-absorbed, remorseless desecrater. And when I say bestial, I want to draw attention to a particular IRL factoid that might be worth considering.

I love animals to bits. I don’t think animals generally contemplate morality the way humans do just due to cognitive differences and limitations. I also think it’s important to remember that humans are ALSO animals, so certain things umbrella’d under ‘human experience’ would probably apply to at least some animals too. If there are human altruists and human serial killers, we should be able to expect that animals likewise have some altruists and some serial killers within the scope of individual variation.

Cruelty is not exclusive to humans. Orcas will essentially torture smaller animals to death by flinging them into the air with their tails repeatedly like balls until repeated beatings and suffocation kill them. Dolphins commit rape and chew on live puffer fish to get high off the toxins. Chimpanzees are a horror unto themselves with cannibalism and mutilation and basically whatever atrocity they can commit. Wolves and cats sometimes hunt to excess just for the joy of it and don’t eat all they kill. Hannibal the swan (as a specific and notably homicidal individual) beat and drowned any other swans visiting his pond and showed his signet how to do it. I could go on. Some cases it might be a matter of the animal not having theory of mind to recognize that they are inflicting pain on another conscious creature. Other times, like with pissed off chimpanzees, they know EXACTLY what they’re doing and it’s on purpose to cause maximum suffering.

I think Yeenoghu should embody a little bit of both propensities. He’s just utterly self-absorbed and doesn’t give a fuck about the experiences or perspectives of other living things except insofar as they impact him.

Bhaal I want to research more like I said, but one thing I remember from my initial play through was finding a note from the Dark Urge to Orin.

Little sister, whatever in the Gray Wastes are we going to do with you? Bhaal will never care that you waste your time, posing your corpse-dollies. Bhaal doesn’t care whether you give him the corpse of a pauper or a king. At the end of the day, all Father wants is death in droves, death in numbers. To sap away the life of this dull world as swiftly and widely as we can. You plan, you plot, you prevaricate, and you waste his time. Bhaal doesn’t need us to think. He needs us to kill. You kill beautifully, and have talents in your shapes’ magics that I never will. But you do not understand Lord Bhaal. Perhaps it is a failing of your diluted blood, as a mere grandchild. I am his sole living pureblood. I will accept no challenge from you, until you show some damned respect.

To be honest this is interesting af to me because it positions Orin a bit more in-line with Yeenoghu’s modus operandi in some ways. But what sets apart the principles of Bhaal from Yeenoghu or Myrkul?

The Dark Urge suggests the goal of Bhaal is the extinction of all life, but to be honest I’m a bit skeptical. Seems like short term thinking. Even if Bhaal pulled that off, once it’s done there is no more murder or god of murder for that matter. If Bhaal is aiming for a cessation of existence and wants everyone else along for the ride maybe that’s what he’s after, but I dunno. That seems like something fans/players/loremasters would have touched on before.

I’d like to invite this possibility for foiling instead:

Life consumes other life by nature. Animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, so forth—it isn’t just a matter of philosophy. One life cannot exist without destroying another. We need to eat. If we don’t, we die well before reproduction enters the picture. But it’s more than that… you take a step, you kill countless tiny organisms you aren’t even aware of. You swat a fly. You hit something with your car. You move gracelessly or touch carelessly, and catastrophe ensues. Etcetera.

It is inevitable that your existence will mean the end for the life of another living thing. That’s just how it goes.

It could be interesting on a LOT of fronts (both as members of the dead three and as former adventuring companions) if Bhaal acted as a kind of philosophical opposite to Myrkul the way I previously described.

If the Dark Urge’s note is to be trusted, Bhaal has no interest in ritual or glorified death per se. Bhaal would be more about the mundanity that comes through the act of killing. Life is fragile as-is and often ended by accident. Killing in its most common form is thoughtless and unconscious. To Bhaal, if every life is a universe then the universe looks meaningless. There is no importance or fanfare to any of it. If one side is ‘everything matters, give weight to life and death’, Bhaal would be ‘nothing matters, we are not capable of affording reverence to every single life and death we encounter’. More specifically, the mass deaths Bhaal favors would be a kind of illustration of the uncaring and casual relationship living things have with killing other living things. The more casual and effortless it is, the more I’d imagine it serves Bhaal. Sadism and revelry miss the point—there is no hierarchy. Suffering is inconsequential. Fear is inconsequential. Instinct is inconsequential. To live is to kill by Bhaal’s logic.

It isn’t limited to murder in the sense of a member of one species killing a member of the same species. It’s more Bhaal is the god of killing. He’d gain power from murder too sure, but also hunting, harvesting, and butchering. With these interpretations in-mind, we can actually figure out how the Dead Three might have answered Jergal's question about what worth a mortal life holds. With the disclaimer this is very much conjecture. I think Myrkul would likely be "Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for." That lends life a heavy weight and makes death a fearful force for all. It would also mesh with Ketheric as his chosen. Bane would lean into "That depends on a person's deeds", "The only life that matters is mine", or "Depends on the mortal". From those positions, the speaker argues for a hierarchy of life where some is more expendable than the rest. It's easier from that position to slide into adopting a role as judge and executioner, and from elevating yourself into a role of authority where other voices and experiences count less than your own. Bhaal I think is reflected in "Life’s only value is as currency. Doesn’t matter to me otherwise", "The only life that matters is mine", or "No one life is worth more than any other. We are equal." Bhaal has the implicit question in-turn: what is the blood-price of your own life? How much have you claimed in your own name to keep moving? It's kind of the belief that while "The only life that matters is mine" is Bhaal's answer, every other living thing should be answering the same way. There's more nuance than that of course, and likely truth falls somewhere in the middle. We aren't mentally capable of giving reverence to every death, but we can recognize in general terms and do our best case-by-case. We have a right to protect ourselves and what we love, but others share that right.

Feel free to offer different stances or thoughts though, and if you made it this far goddamn thank you for reading this monster.

[andkisses]

♡ lovesick | enhypen ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: him realizing this feeling he has? is something he might want to pay attention to

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 615 total ♡ genres/tropes: fluff! he’s in love he just doesn’t know it  ♡ mentions of/warnings: none  ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 first two above the cut, and the rest below ^^ inspired by taylor swift lyrics <3 i lowkey feel it doesn’t match the title but uh here’s wonderwall; this was also marginally proof read lol ♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: *jungwon

everything is shinier now, brighter–jungwon almost can’t believe it. he wonders how could one person change everything? but there’s proof. he sees you in everything, the moon and the stars and the sun. you’re the birds singing, even the rain. and when he gets to hold you? he’s soft and delicate, like you’re the most precious thing the world–no, the universe has to offer. surely, this feeling will never go away, and jungwon’s okay with that.

✧･ﾟ: *heeseung

it hits him one random afternoon. heeseung’s not sure if it’s how the sun came down through the window or how you look sitting on the other end of the couch paging through a book. suddenly, he feels dizzy and the room is spinning, and you are at the center of it all, shining so brightly. and there’s this feeling in his chest unlike any other. it makes him feel sick, but it’s different. and, most terrifying of all, heeseung’s pretty sure he likes it.

✧･ﾟ: *jay

it takes bravery, sure, to be so close to you. you’re intoxicating, invigorating. at first jay feared it would be too much, but there was something–he couldn’t put his finger on it–that kept drawing him in. now, sitting here, listening to you talk about something with passion and light in your eyes and your hands drawing examples in the air, he thinks he knows what this feeling is. jay knows it will take a little more bravery to say out loud.

✧･ﾟ: *jake

he never thought it could be possible to see someone the way he sees you. you’re like a warm light, a glow where you are. jake never thought he could feel someone’s absence like he does yours, either. the coldness, how his thoughts chase after you. your smile, your laugh. you’re like an energy booster, nothing like anything else before. it causes a particular dizziness jake hasn’t been aware of before, and he’d like to know more.

✧･ﾟ: *sunghoon

the movie climax of the movie and all the drama plays out on the screen, but sunghoon can feel himself drifting off. he knows he won’t make it to the credits. he might not even make it through this scene. you’re already asleep next to him, head on his shoulder, hand on his arm. the rise and fall of your breaths, the sweet smell of your perfume. sunghoon isn’t sure if the feeling in his chest is because he’s tired, or something else entirely. as he drifts off, he decides he could get use to it.

✧･ﾟ: *sunoo

he’s certain you could out do any star. sunoo has met a lot of people, but none like you. he isn’t sure how you do it either, it seems to be so natural. yet you’re intriguing, creating your own kind of gravity. and even though he can’t name this feeling–or, he’s too shy to name it yet–sunoo knows he would be okay if he were a satellite caught in your orbit. because even if he doesn’t want to admit it yet, sunoo is already very comfortable with this feeling.

✧･ﾟ: *niki

it’s in the way his hands rattle when you’re near, or how niki’s breath likes to skip. the way his heart beats so badly, so loudly that he’s certain you can hear it. what is this feeling? he’s got to do something about it, because he feels like he is noticing everything about you, and he’s never seen anyone like this before–the way you fix your hair, your fashion, the way you laugh. that is what gets niki the most–whenever he gets you to laugh, and he knows, above everything else, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

[pain-in-the-butler]

Could you give us some good dadbastian fanfic? Oneshots, incomplete, completed anything really, i am starved and need some more food other than coattails(which i love very much!)

Hey there, thanks so much for being a Coattails reader! As an aside, I'm not sure if you're totally caught up or not, but sorry I don't yet have an idea of when the next part will be ready. I only have 4k words written so far and chapter 33 is looking to be another doozy... I'll be sure to keep everyone informed of when we're close 🫡

Anyway, I have no idea if you're like me when it comes to Dadbastian, but I'm pretty particular about what I enjoy. Angst has to play a factor in some form, for instance. I also don't like it when Ciel and Seb are too sappy with each other without it being earned. There's a reason Coattails had like 250k words of build-up before Sebastian actually accepted his Dadbastian fate.

With that in mind, here are my suggestions!

bottom of the deep blue sea by sunflowergiorno Easily one of my favorite Dadbastian fics, hands down. I remember going positively bananas waiting for the second part to come out. It's so gentle and tender and honest. It perfectly showcases the thoughts and feelings I'd hoped for Sebastian and Ciel to have to approach after their experience on the Campania. Words, Strings, and Butterfly Wings by Kimberly_T I love this story so dearly, and it's tragic that it's unfinished. This fic is a retelling of the Circus Arc, in which Ciel and Sebastian must actually pretend to be father and son, sometimes with hilarious results, other times endearing. A major inspiration behind Coattails for sure. I would die for Falco, an original character who to me is more endearing than any of the canon Noah's Ark cast members.

Dadbastian Week Drabbles by HeartLeftovers Nobody does angst like HeartLeftovers, and you'll drink up her poetic language like nectar. My personal favorite is Midnight, but read Magnifying Glass and Domesticated Wolf first for the full impact of the final stanza.

Sensorium by OtherCat Short but sweet. A story about how Sebastian helps Ciel at the beginning of the contract to stop thinking like a boy trapped in a cage. I love that it shows that Sebastian couldn't possibly have frightened Ciel into becoming an earl: he had to actually coax Ciel towards it.

Singing in the Silence by Kimberly_T Another one from Kimberly_T. Not strictly Dadbastian, but a story about the servants learning how to help Ciel with his PTSD in their very own inventive and roundabout way. Heart-meltingly adorable. It's canon to me, dammit.

Front Page News by TheArchaeologist Also not strictly Dadbastian (in fact, Ciel is incapacitated the whole time), but I only need the slightest reason to suggest this Phantomfam-centric fic. Mey-Rin's voice is especially realized. Even though you already know Sebastian, Snake, and Ciel will make it back from the Campania in one piece, you feel the Pham's worry palpably.

Through the Years by Kimberly_T Can you tell yet that I love Kimberly_T? Admittedly, this one I haven't read with perfect thoroughness, but I can tell you that the Dadbastian moments are peak. Ciel hires a new maid, a woman who nearly killed him when he invaded a brothel on a mission for the Queen. Please mind that this involves some discussions of SA. Also mind that the story largely centers around an original character, but no one does OCs like Kimberly.

ad perpetuam memoriam by redrobin1989 Only Dadbastian if you squint, but my god if you haven't read it yet go do it now.

I also have my Dadbastian week drabbles, Cutting Teeth, if you haven't read those! I hope that's given you some food for the time being. Eat up and enjoy!

[minniiaa]

another lawlu hc related to that: law has sensory issues with eating sometimes because of his autism and it makes him internally scream and go to an empty room to cry. luffy realizes law has been giving him too much of his food recently. after finding out why, luffy gives him all the comfort and love he deserves and it causes law to eat a little more 🥹💜 (this sadly happens to me in real life as an autistic person. I NEED A SPOUSE LIKE LUFFY AAAAAH)

Yes! This is actually so sweet. Law's autism could totally explain his very particular eating habits. You inspired me to write the below headcanon based on this. I have had people in my life who are autistic but I do have it myself so I hope I could do the experience justice in the context of Law and his personality. I just love the idea of Luffy finding out and making sure Law gets whatever he needs because he's the best partner anyone could ask for <3

Law is very self-conscious when it comes to his eating habits, as he is with most of his peculiarities and it's nearly impossible for him to bring himself to ask to be accommodated when others are cooking even though he knows people will do so even when he doesn't tell them why. He accidentally blurted out that he doesn't like bread and ever since then Sanji has always made him his own special dish whenever he is serving bread dishes to the others. He appreciates Sanji's understanding but he feels like a burden for making him create something entirely different just for him.

Law's food preferences don't just end with bread though, and he can't just refuse to eat what he's being served, that would be rude. Luckily, he has a very hungry partner who is always eyeing up his plate for scraps so he can generally just give him the things he doesn't like but recently it's been getting worse to the point that Law is barely eating because his sensory issues have become overwhelming.

Law thinks he's pretty slick but Luffy knows him better than he knows himself most of the time and one day, he confronts him. Luffy asks Law if he's okay and why he hasn't been eating virtually any of his food recently. He tries to play it off by saying he just hasn't been hungry but Luffy calls out the fact that his stomach has been growling and he's clearly hungry. He demands Law to tell him what's going on and if he's sick, he'll figure out how to make him better. Law, knowing he can't get out of this without telling Luffy the truth, explains that he has a condition where specific food textures make him feel extremely uncomfortable and he can't eat them without feeling like he's going to either throw up or explode.

Much to Law's relief, Luffy immediately understands. "That's okay, everyone is different, Torao! You should have told me before so I can make sure you get all the yummy food you like! Now, tell me all the things that make you feel gross and I'll make sure you never have to eat them again. Food is the best thing in the world and you need to eat so you can be nice and strong!" he says and Law has to hold back his tears. He's been struggling with this for so long and he's always been afraid to tell people because he doesn't want them to judge him and just assume he's annoying when he can't help it.

He's not sure why he didn't just tell Luffy this before, he's not the best at expressing himself. Emotions and connecting with others are hard for him. He's already so much of a burden on Luffy as it is even though Luffy constantly reassures him that he loves him, he's never a burden, and he just wants him to be happy.

After that day, Luffy makes sure that Law's plate never has anything he doesn't like on it. If anyone dares to call Law 'picky' he yells at them and advises that Law is artistic (Law has corrected him and told him it's autistic but he doesn't seem to listen) and he can't help it and that he'll beat them up if they make fun of his Torao. Law wonders every single day what he did to deserve such a loving and understanding partner who goes out of his way to make Law's life easier in whatever way he can.

[historical-fashion-polls]

Jumping off of that other anon, do you happen to have any recommendations for historical masculine wear? I've also had issues with low quality items on etsy and I've noticed resources for masculine clothing are just harder to come by in historical fashion spaces lol. I'm looking for breeches in particular but tbh anywhere that makes masc historical clothing will be nice to know about

hi dear anon! 💕

thanks so much for reaching out! ☺️☺️ (the previous post with some recommendations for historical-inspired clothing to which anon is referring is right here 💖)

this one will be a little harder for me to give recommendations, as I tend toward wearing skirts and dresses, and thus don't have as many resources that I personally can vouch for in terms of things like breeches. however, I have once again made a little list! ☺️💕

let me once again recommend I Do Declare, my absolute beloved! while the majority of their clothing is dresses/skirts, they have made shorts, tunics/shirts, and waistcoats in the past. plus I think they're currently working on breeches and perhaps another waistcoat design? totally worth giving them a follow on instagram if you think you might be interested in their clothing, since that's where they post a lot of updates and previews. as I mentioned previously, they tend to do limited releases and pre-orders, so if you might want to get something from them, I would suggest either following them on social media or signing up for their newsletter 💕

this next one is less strictly historical and more just kind of fun and eclectic, but Envygreen Manor could be a place to check out! I don't think I've seen them do breeches, but their "Poet" shirt is historically-inspired, and they've also done some really fun vests in the past that might be of interest. again, not as much strictly historical, but I feel like some of their pieces could definitely still work with historically-inspired ensembles 💖

another place you could potentially explore is Lively Ghosts, which tends toward gothic/victorian inspiration. from some quick looking, it seems like they've done some shorts as well as a pair of trousers and some pants. again, these aren't strictly historical, but I believe they do take at least some design inspiration from historical sources. they also have nice shirts/blouses, and a lot of their outerwear is really cool too 💕

sorry I can't be of more help here! 😔😔 I've never really shopped for breeches, so I'm not sure what other kinds of resources might be out there. but if anyone else has suggestions, please drop them in the comments! ☺️💕

thank you again for reaching out, and I hope this was at least a little bit helpful! ☺️☺️

again, I want to emphasize that none of these links are paid promotions and I am in no way affiliated with the companies I've listed here, I just like their clothing and thought they could potentially fit the kinds of things you're looking for ☺️💕

[the-odd-devil]

Gods and Good Boys

Homelander x f!reader

Summary : You know something is wrong, a simple image management employee has nothing to do in this fancy lounge at the highest of Vought tower. When Homelander enters the room with a satisfied smile, you know you’re fucked. The rumors you've heard about him and his constant presence at your office do nothing to help get him out of your head but will certainly help you get out of this situation, or maybe make it worse.

Word Count : 4 042

Warnings : !!! minors DNI !!!, non-con/dub-con, sexual harassment, canon-typical violence, blood, death, smut, mommy kink, degrading, sub!Homelander, dom!reader (let me know if I forgot any)

Author's Note : So first fic eh? More specifically, it’s the first time I've written fanfiction in English, but I loved it so much! Much more than my native language for some reason? Anyway I had the best time ever writing Homelander, he is so fun to write (even more when he’s a sub oops), hope you will have fun reading it too!

 But before the Big Boy™ I want to give a big big BIG thank you to @mietkoz and @finniestoncrane for proofreading the fic and being sweethearts, they really hyped me up and makes me want to write more! <3 Another big big BIG thank you to @spicedchaiandromeda and @just-call-me-angel who inspired me a lot to write and were so nice to me <3 

Hope you’ll like it!

This whole thing was weird as fuck. Two people, who you immediately guessed that they were a lot more important than you, had brought you and this other Vought employee, in this fancy lounge decorated with expensive stuff. The price of the furniture did nothing to make the room more appealing, it felt empty and cold. They left you and the other girl in the middle of it. While looking at each other, you remembered seeing her at some office inside the tower, her name being Grace and being in a similar post as you at Vought, she was in a high level of stress, picking her nails and looking generally concerned about why you were here. Honestly, you were concerned too, random office workers at Vought have nothing to do at the highest of the tower, but your mind was empty, not knowing what to expect.  

You hear clicking heels coming to the door from the hallway and soon Ashley is standing right in front of both of you, a fake and uptight smile on her lips and an all too much joyful tone. 

“So, I suppose you know why you’re here!”

You and the other girl look at each other with a questioning expression before looking back at Ashley.

“You’re gonna have an interview with Homelander!” she said while doing a little forced cheering movement.

Ah yes, Homelander. You’ve seen him more than once in the office area explaining to employees what they have to do and sticking his nose in other people’s business. With his fake smile and false sympathy. You know and everyone knows that he’s close to a no return point at every second, ready to turn the room into ashes. What you really think about the fucker is another story tho. You first didn’t think much about him, in your department, the supes are more of a product than anything, you don’t really see them as a person anymore, even more when you’re the one who has to cover their “mistakes”, if killing innocents can be considered as a mistake. You prefer not to think about him in particular, even if you know only the surface level about what he’d done, aka, what you have to deal with and then dilute for the press ; seeing him in person, close to you, looking at you, is totally different. He did nothing that would be considered “abnormal”, at least, for him, in the office. He tries to play it cool, be the nice guy, but his sudden voice bursts betray him. 

What really scares you is what he makes you feel. Things that you prefer ignoring. He undressed you with his eyes or made prolonged eye contact more than once and you couldn’t refrain from the heat that you felt. The asshole had a really pretty face and a shark smile, the way his expressions distort oscillating between rage, pure distress and complete emptiness made you imagine how you could completely break him with just a few sentences and how he could annihilate you in a blink of an eye. The thoughts of you possibly dominating this god-like figure have kept you awake more than once. 

“Did we do something wrong?” Grace says timidly, you could hear how anxious she was.

“Oh no no no! He just wants a new “assistant” and asked me if he could see you in private.” you could hear the fake enthusiasm and the quotation marks in Ashley’s tone. 

The word “assistant”, isn’t a good omen for where this situation is going, you know how perverted Homelander, and the vast majority of the supes are, and you’re thinking that being fired isn’t that horrible after all.

“Anyway! Try to make a good impression!” Ashley says before making her way to the door.

“Wait? You’re gonna let us here??” your voice makes you suddenly aware how much you were panicking.

“Yes? I’m not the one choosing.” she says, a frown across her face before finally leaving.

And there you are, Grace and you standing in the middle of this Vought’s lounge, clearly design for la crème de la crème of those who enters the tower, not knowing what the fuck is gonna happen when Homelander is going to join you. 

He probably was waiting for Ashley to inform him that you were here because he arrived shortly after she left, you even suspect him of waiting next to the room and most certainly watching and listening since you were here. He enters the room and closes the door, placing the key on one of the tables next to the couch before putting his hands behind his back, a pleased smile on his face and places himself in front of both of you, making direct eye contact with Grace and then with you. Grace instantly looked away but you couldn’t stop looking in his icy blue eyes. It feels like the eye contact is during an eternity, none of you looking away. He breaks the contact when he is starting to speak after clapping once in his hands, making Grace and you jump.

“So, what did Ashley tell you?”

You were growing more and more confuse with this whole situation, what the fuck does he want? 

“Come on girls! Speak!” he says, elevating his voice and clapping his hands. There it is, his constant struggle at keeping his calm. Grace was mortified and you answer Homelander, hesitation visible in your face and voice :

“She told us about an assistant thing…”

“Oh yeah… You know, days are a little bit boring sometimes…”

You look at him while he starts pacing in the room, getting closer to you and Grace. When he’s close enough, he starts petting Grace's hair like a dog and turns his head to look at your side. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, too afraid to turn your head and look at him in the eyes when he is this close to you. He withdraws his hand from Grace’s hair to start stroking your cheek instead.

“I just can’t decide which one of you I’m going to fuck on a daily basis.”

You can see his fucking smile in your peripheral vision, well aware of the power his holding on the situation. Your breath is stuck in your throat, your vision is starting to blur, your blood runs cold, you feel like your soul just left your body and you’re not able to move anymore. You're out of your paralyzed state when you see and hear Grace running to the door and starting pulling on it in panic, unable to unlock it. You watch the action with eyes wide open, panicking more and more but unable to move or react, knowing too well that this situation is about to get worse. You know Homelander too much to know that showing him signs of resilience is a very very bad idea. He grabs your chin so hard that it hurts you, turning your head in order that you face him again. His eyes are closed and he lightly shakes his head, he seems disappointed as if a little kid just did something wrong and he’s about to reprimand them. Grace is still trying to open the door in panic and starts to cry some “please!”, “let me go!”, “please”, Homelander just turns his head looking at her with some disappointment, still holding you before melting her head with his laser eyes. 

Her body falls to the ground, headless. You contain the screams who are holding in your throat, so much that your body begins to contract. Your eyes are burning, holding tears in a terrorized expression. Homelander turns his face, having a sweet forced smile, looking at you like he was proud of you being an obedient girl who listens to him. You feel sick. He hums, approaching his face even more, you could feel the vibration in his throat. 

“I guess it means that you’re the one I choose.

SO!”

The fact that his expression is changing once more, so rapidly into something completely different, has always scares you, today, more than anything. You don’t know what to expect next. His now happy and calm expression and the fact he starts pacing again in the room only calms you slightly, leaving you some time to think of what to do next. 

He ends up facing you, a few feet away, his smile still on his face. It is the kind of smile you know is pacific, that nothing will happen to you if you do right. It is comforting in some way. Some agonizing seconds pass, before he finally says something. 

“What are you waiting for? Show me.” 

You didn’t expect that. Not the abrupt demand but the tone of his voice. Very deep and low, vibrating through your core. All the deep, filthy feelings you have for him are coming back to the surface. His fucking gaze, looking right through you with lust and envy, his satisfied smile who knows he can have everything he wants. You’ve noticed every time he passes by your office. You were sure you were imagining things, you are now certain that everything he did was on purpose. This wasn’t a wet dream anymore. Homelander was here, waiting for you to make the first move, if you didn’t, you'd end up like Grace whose blood was spreading across the fancy carpet of the lounge. 

You compose yourself, sniffing the results of the tears in your eyes, trying to make the feeling you had when you saw him at your office fully resurface.  

He often went into the offices of your department, putting his nose in everything. You thrived on the view every time. Even knowing everything he’s done, you couldn’t stop looking at him. Not only do you find him beautiful, but when he comes to your floor he always has his worried puppy face. He seems so sad and anxious wanting to know if the public still loves him, seeing him in this state makes you hot all over. 

One day, he ends up noticing your glances, you can only also guess that your expression said a lot more than you wished, and till that day he began visiting your desk every time he came down here. 

It was mostly light teasing, and you understand now, flirting. You thought he didn’t mean much until today. It seems that he finds making people uncomfortable funny. You would have never guessed it meant anything. You were always flustered nonetheless. 

Most of the time, he exaggeratedly bent next to you to watch your computer screen, his mouth ending up to be impossibly close to your ear, where he whispered saying some uninteresting shit about what’s on the screen, most of the time, he didn’t even know what he saw meant, and you didn't really listened to him anyway, his low and deep voice reverberating down to your core. You remember your mind spiraling and only being able to concentrate on the wetness in your panties. Sometimes in the blur of his sayings, you could recall him calling you pretty, or lightly degrading you, it only made you spiral even more. 

Being in the break room instead of your desk didn't stop him from harassing you, or whispering in your ear. He looked at you like a prey, you were his prey everytime he went to the office. You should have called sexual harassment. You didn’t. You know it wouldn’t change anything, you thought he was like that with everyone. Even one of your colleagues suggested it. She knew damn well that there is absolutely no point of doing that.

You usually just didn't respond to him, just getting more and more red and wet, sometimes swallowing and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Except the last time he came to see you in the break room. 

It started like usual, the usual being him spotting you in the break room and immediately entering and sticking to you, pressing his torso against your back and his lips against your ear. You could see and feel his hand every time, hesitating to go on your hips. He began whispering in your ear, a lot nicer than all the other times, things like “you’re so pretty today”, “let me buy you another coffee”, “we can go to a calmer place if you want”... You were already red and wet from the few sentences and his proximity. When he bent over to take a hot chocolate your breath stopped. You could feel him already getting hard on your ass. 

He took his drink and went to sit on the break room table. You couldn’t help but watch him across the room. He was delighted seeing your red face and your look filled with lust and shame. 

He slapped on his thigh two times, calling you like a child : 

“Come sit with me.”

 You took the closest seat to him, hypnotized, incapable of thinking or saying anything. Your cup of coffee was trembling in your hand. Attentively, you watched him take a mouthful of his chocolate milk. He took so much milk so rapidly that some was left on the corner of his mouth. 

The satisfied look on his face and his unusually soft smile made you lose your mind. You didn’t even had time to realize what you were doing, that your hand was already cupping his cheek and your thumb was gently whipping off the cream on his face. 

His surprised look was rapidly replaced by a look of pure bliss, his head leaning on your hand, his eyes closing and his mouth slightly opening while he exhaled a long breath. You couldn’t recall if you had an orgasm right then, seeing him so submissive in the palm on your hand ; an electric shock went through your body, you feel like you blacked out and next thing you know you were splashing cold water on your face in the closest bathroom, hyperventilating. You could see your mascara running on your cheeks, asking yourself how you were gonna explain your current state to your colleagues. 

You don’t remember the rest of this day, but you remember him, staying in the break room, his hand caressing where yours was, watching you leave with puppy eyes, his puppy eyes that were the only thing you could think of the following days. You remember thinking of the rumor. The rumor that made you so horny you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom. The one about Homelander you’ve heard the first month you’ve been working in Vought : about  how particular his relationship with Madelyn Stillwell, the ex-Senior Vice President of Hero Management, was. You remember finishing on your toy that night, this idea and what happened leaving your mind running free. 

You know what to do, you know what he wants. There is no other choice, you’ll give it to him while refusing to admit to yourself that you want it too. 

He is in front of you, a small smirk on his lips, challenging you. You feel like a deer catched in headlights feeling so small in front of him standing straight up and looking down on you. You take a few seconds composing yourself, taking a deep breath. You know exactly what he wants and you were going to give it to him. His expression changes as he sees you fake confidence, questioning but still challenging; you look at him through your lashes, a devious smile on your lips. You took a few steps until you were facing him, close enough to hear his breathing speeding a bit. 

You bring slowly your hand to his cheek, locking your eyes on his face, trying your best to look both sweet and flirty. Your heart skips a beat, your breath shaking slightly. You feel like your body is on autopilot while there is a storm in your mind.  His eyes are following the action, eager for some contact. Once your hand is cupping his cheek, you start to stroke lightly with your thumb. Homelander directly melts into your touch, leaning into your hand ,closing his eyes and slightly opening his mouth, bliss and release across his face. He let out a deep breath while relaxing into your hold, he was looking like an asleep kitten, almost purring in your hand. You try to keep your composure, feeling your stomach dropping at the sight of this god-like being turning into putty to your touch, making you feel so powerful. Your confidence level being higher seeing his soft expression, you decided to lean more into the situation. You approach him till your mouth is the closest possible to his ear.

“You really need someone to take care of you mh?”

The shaky whimper he let out makes you tremble. Even knowing the rumors, and witnessing a glimpse of it before, being in first line, and being the one who made him whimper makes you weak and you could already feel yourself getting wet. You continue stroking his cheek, drinking in his reactions.  You’ve always liked how expressive he is, the tiny movement of his face while he is losing himself in pleasure sends you into a loop as you whisper again in his ear : 

“You look so lonely… Poor boy… Don’t worry, mommy’s gonna take care of you.”

You put your other hand in his blond hair, feeling them on your fingers and appreciating how soft they are. You’re totally losing yourself now, hypnotized by his trembling, almost whining voice : 

“Yes! Yes please…”

Any sense of logic leaves your mind as you hear his voice, lust now controlling you. You move your hand to put his chin in your palm and start tracing his lips with your thumb, his mouth opening in a silent moan. You can’t help putting your finger in his mouth. He immediately closes it and starts sucking on your thumb. You don’t control the little moan escaping your mouth, making him moan too, unable to restrain. You start to unconsciously rube your thighs, eager for some contact and relief. Your eyes leave his face and meet his crotch, his dick hard. Your pussy throbbing at the sight and size. Homelander is still lost in the moment, punctuating his sucking with little moans who make you weak.

You can’t resist touching his dick anymore and took your hand out of his face, leaving his mouth empty making him whine at the loss. 

“You’re so eager… Mh? Pretty boy…”

You finish your sentence with your hand ghosting over him, feeling his length, making him groan at both your praise and the feather-like touch before thrusting his hips to fully meet you.  You tut and shake your head :

“You’re really disappointing mommy, baby…” 

Punctuating your sentence with a sad pout. You see his face contracting and looking up, while he moves back his body, as he concentrates to obey you. 

“That’s my good boy.”

His focused face stretches into a proud smile, still looking up, scared that looking at you will make him lose control. 

You smile too, satisfied and shocked by how well you can make him obey you. You apply more pressure, stroking him as you see his expressions tighten. He is trying so hard to keep composure, you don’t know if you will be able to contain yourself too, his almost pained face making you feel closer and closer even if he still hasn't touched you, hands in fist at his sides, waiting for an order to start touching you . 

You suddenly cut off all contact, Homelander making the saddest and most pathetic whine at the loss, lowering his head to look in your eyes, wanting to know what he did wrong.  

“What’s wrong baby?”

Another whine escapes his mouth, urging you to touch him again. You lock eyes, look and voice assertive : 

“Get on that couch.”

He doesn’t think twice and sits on the couch next to you, his eyes are glossy, filled with lust as he looks at you like a puppy waiting for approbation after doing a trick.

“Come on, lay down.” 

He does as you say, you can hear his heavy breath as he waits for more. You approach him like a predator, and sit on his lap, he whimpers at the contact of your pussy, feeling both of your wetness on his costume. You start moving your hips languidly, making him groan. You want more friction, to start moving quicker, you’ve been waiting for some form of release for so long ; but you’re determined to watch him completely lose himself beneath you.  

You continue your agonizing movements (for both of you), the room starting to echo both of your moans. You’re very glad that this lounge has one-way windows, but you doubt the fine glass will be enough to muffle both of your screams. You don’t really care at this point though, the gossip that may happen in the tower being insignificant over the power and the pleasure you are feeling in this instant. Plus, everybody will know anyway considering Homelander reputation, and, oh yeah, the dead body still emptying itself from his blood next to you, but who you totally forgot, your mind clearly elsewhere. 

Your head tossed backward, eyes closed, the sweet moans of Homelander starting to sound more and more demanding, the friction of the his dick on your clothed and wet mount making you lose control, you almost jump when you feel his hands grabbing your waist using his superhuman force to make you move quicker. 

“Did I allow you to touch me?”

Your strict voice makes him stop all movement. He closes his mouth and rapidly shakes his head, hands still on your waist. You furrow your brows harder making him quickly withdraw his hand. You pick back up your previous pace, making him open his mouth again.

“I thought you were mommy’s good boy… Seems like you’re just a dumb slut…”

The whine he lets out is louder than any of the preceding ones, making a deep, sadistic smile grow on your lips and your hips moving faster. You can feel your climax being closer and closer, finally getting some relief. 

“You can touch mommy now…” 

You say at the same time a moan escapes your lips. He places both of his hands on the top of your hips, following your movement as he catches the rhythm with his. 

“You’re such a pretty slut, doing what mommy says.”

His moans are louder at every degradation and praise. 

Your climax coming closer and closer as you can feel his, you start muttering incoherent degrading praises making him moan and buckle his hips at each one of them. Your movements begin to be uncoordinated as you can feel your orgasm arriving with full force, as Homelander’s are becoming more and more brutal. In a final thrust, you feel his dick twitch and release in his costume as you continue riding him pursuing your own high, making him whine at the over stimulation. Your orgasm follows quickly after, a wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before spreading all over your body, making your eyes rolling and watering and your body uncontrollably shivering. 

You fall down to his chest, both of you catching your breath. Once your heart is catching an almost normal beating, you lift your head and give him a soft and chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You did great.”

Before leaving him completely spent on the couch, still catching his breath, a wet spot on his crotch. You smile to yourself seeing him in this disheveled state, making a mental image for future nights by yourself.You take the key on the small table and pull down your skirt while walking to the door, hoping that it will be long enough to cover how wet the top of your legs are. You give one more look at the decapitated body of Grace, trying not to step on the blood, before opening the door and leaving the lounge and going to the bathroom, and then leave the tower, your mind still not recording what happened nor trying to figure out what all of that means for the future.

[tenyearsoftrash]

Ten Years of HTP: A Celebration

Hi all, I (@eatingcroutons) set up this blog with all sorts of intentions about preparation and promotion and then Life Things Happened, but I'm still hoping to go forward with the idea of encouraging some nostalgia and memory-sharing about the last ten years of the HYDRA Trash Party.

The aim here is to be more of a celebration of community rather than your typical prompt fest - if you're looking for prompts for fanworks you might want to check out the @catws-anniversary that has just kicked off and will run until the 4th of April, or of course refer back to the Trash Meme itself!

So for this blog's purposes, feel free to post informal thoughts and musings and ramblings, and to comment on each other's memories - this is all about our shared history and nostalgia, and the idea is for it to be an open dialogue and celebration of community. A few points on logistics:

Anonymous asks and submission are open on this blog if you'd prefer not to participate under a named account. We all know how hostile certain corners of fandom have become to darkfic and adjacent content.

For all the themes below self-recs are also very welcome, if you want a chance to show off something you made years ago that hasn't gotten much attention in a while!

Go ahead and tag this blog at @tenyearsoftrash for a reblog of anything you post about the below themes!

All that said, here are some suggested themes and ideas to get you thinking and reminiscing:

April 4: Rewatch CA:TWS!

Take yourself right back to where it all began! With too many people across too many timezones we're not going to even try to organise a massive synchronised groupwatch, but maybe you could get a few of your old-school HTP buddies together to do a smaller one? In any case: fire up the movie, relive all the feels, and share any HTP-related thoughts that come (back) to mind after all these years!

April 5: Fanwork Recs

Go back and dig up some links to your favourite HTP fanworks - whether big or small, well-known or niche, what are the works that have really rewritten your brain chemistry, and stuck with you all this time? What was it about them that hit just the right spot? Feel free to share your thoughts on Tumblr - and to go back and drop a nostalgic comment on anything on AO3 😉

April 7: Meta Recs

Over the years there's been a lot of meta associated with HTP, from discussions of what CA:TWS and HYDRA represent in a broader social context, to endless back-and-forth about darkfic's place in fandom. Are there any posts that really made you think, or that remain relevant even now? Is there anything that came out of those meta discussions that has turned out to be particularly prescient, in hindsight?

April 8: HTP Fanon

What are your favourite bits of shared or personal fanon around HTP and its related concepts? Are there any Original Characters you're particularly fond of? Any particular tropes regarding characters or events that you will never get tired or bored of? Any ideas that might seem cracky on the surface but which you are totally into regardless?

April 8: Other Media/Fandoms

We've all had those moments where we've come across something in a new canon and immediately been like, "Oh, this is delicious trash bait," right? What other media has had a "Bucky Barnes Obediently Accepts The Bite Block" moment for you? What other characters might your fellow HTP friends enjoy as interesting targets for Trash Party Shenanigans? In what fandoms have you found yourself running into an awful lot of familiar HTP faces?

April 9: WIP Amnesty

Do you have any HTP fanworks that you never finished, or never got around to starting, for whatever reason? Now's your excuse to talk about them! Feel free to ramble about what your plans would have been, lament why they're never going to happen, or share some of those great ideas you never quite had time to plot out. Or, if you're feeling particularly inspired, go back and actually finish something off!

April 10: HTP Community Memories

To finish off the week let's talk about the community itself! What have been the good times, the interesting times, any times that have been personally significant to you, for any reason? What things have you experienced or shared or understood with or through or because of the HTP community? What new friends have you made over the years, and what old friends do you miss?

---

Apologies again for taking some time to getting around to making this post, but hopefully people will still be interested in doing some reminiscing!

[our-abinary-experience]

let's talk about anti-xenogender bigotry, as it often reveals a lot of how people see gender, and especially nonbinary gender.

this post in particular is inspired by a reddit post i found by accident when i just wanted to download the xenogender flag (lol).

the post was shared by a trans woman who claimed that xenogenders aren't genders and thus not valid. she made sure though to say that she totally supports nonbinary people.

her first point on why xenogenders don't exist was that how valid a gender is is determined by its societal support, and since xenogenders are only supported in "fringe extremist "trans" spaces", they aren't real.

firstly, interesting that any trans person who supports xenogender people gets their trans card revoked. we're no longer trans, we're "trans".

secondly, hinging the validity of a gender on the amount of social support it has directly contradicts with her supposed support of nonbinary people. maybe she happens to live in the most nonbinary-friendly place ever, but overall, the very concept of nonbinary gender does not have a lot of societal support. so, according to her logic, nonbinary people are inherently less valid than binary people. some might even say that only fringe extremist "trans" spaces support nonbinary people. and, while trans itself is not a gender, if we add gender modality to the mix, then binary trans people don't exactly have massive societal support either. as a trans woman, does she consider her womanhood less valid than cis women's? basing the validity of a gender on societal support doesn't make any sense because there actually isn't a single monolithic society, and the societies that have historically recognised and celebrated more than two genders have been forcibly binarised by white european colonisers. did nonbinary gender become less valid over time and now it's slowly gaining validity as support for us is slowly growing? none of her logic in this makes sense. her rhetoric is inherently exorsexist and binarist, not just against xenogenders but basically against any nonbinary gender which she claims to support, and against cultural genders too.

the "societal support" argument completely falls apart because it means that every marginalised identity of any kind is inherently less valid and less real. she's revealing her bigotry here: it's not really about societal support, it's about which genders she arbitrarily decides are real and valid.

her second argument why xenogenders are not real was that any gender that exists outside of a triangle of male, female and genderless doesn't exist. you can only slide between those, like being hallway between male and genderless or in the middle of all three, but not outside. this is the classic gender trinary of male/female/agender and it's how i used to see gender as a baby enby.

firstly, gender isn't bound to whatever spectrum you personally decide is acceptable. there are many ways to be outside of that triangle besides xenogenderness. this logic basically says that the only valid way to be abinary is to be agender. not even abinary men or women exist in that logic, since the concept of abinary doesn't exist besides agenderness.

so, how can someone say she supports nonbinary people while saying a whole lot of us aren't real, even the ones who aren't xenogender, simply because she, as a binary person, thinks she has the right to decide what the gender spectrum looks like and whose gender is real and whose isn't?

all her points on why xenogenders aren't real also apply to multiple or all nonbinary genders. especially coming from a binary person, it reveals a huge ignorance to the nonbinary experience as well as a very narrow view of gender.

we're all in this together. clearly, exorsexists can't tell the difference between someone who is xenogender or someone who is, for example, ilyagender, or maybe even someone who happens to be within that gender triangle but within that have a gender that is not socially supported, like proxvir.

this is all the more reason for all of us nonbinary people to stick together and not draw lines in the sand about which nonbinary gender is valid and acceptable. if something harms one of us, they always end up harming all of us in some way. we're in this together.

[hmshermitcraft]

been thinking about my Splatoon au and went. What If It Was Skizzpulse. bc in the original idea they're just best friends but,,,, I'm in the mood for gay people tonight. also the original au was inspired by rose_kitty's ranchers-centric Splatoon au, which has ex-agent skizz, so..... yeah!

also they're not in an established romantic relationship in this one. yet

also also this is written by an aroace person idk how crushes work

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Skizz hasn't been sleeping well.

He doesn't know why.

Actually, that's a lie- he does know why, but he thought he got over it years ago! And yet, he's on his third day with about three hours of sleep in total, having woken up from night terrors he doesn't remember and then being unable to fall back asleep. And just because he doesn't remember them doesn't mean he doesn't know what they were about. Images of dead Octarians and Octolings haunt him on the daily. Even more after he learned they hadn't been attacking of their own free will. His roommate notices, of course. On the first day after the night terrors (re)started, he got some playful teasing from Impulse, who was unaware of why Skizz didn't sleep. On the second, there was genuine concern. And now it's the third day, and Skizz is pretty sure he's about to be subject to an intervention.

This is proven correct when Impulse practically ambushes him when he gets home, drags him to his own bed (his own, not Skizz's(!!! (skizz should probably be feeling less Emotions about this)), forces him to lay down, gets Kevin(bubblesmalonerefrigeratorjimmymadeyedugan(espacitoappleseed)) the mudpuppy to lay on top of him so he can't move, and then asks, "What's up with you?"

For some reason, that's all it takes for Skizz to cave. And, yes, Impulse put aside his own distaste for physical affection in order to cuddle skizz until he fell asleep (and stayed asleep), but no, that did not make Skizz feel any particular way! His hearts did not beat faster at the physical proximity, thank you very much! And he definitely didn't spend the next few days thinking about how caring Impulse is, willing to go through discomfort just to make his friends feel better...

Impulse just listened. He didn't interrupt Skizz, or try and comfort him, just made the appropriate noises when Skizz expected them (he didn't even realise he was expecting them!)

And he slept. Not peacefully, but not fitfully, either. Because every time he woke up, Impulse was drooling by his side and Kevin was lying across his front. He could feel Kevin breathe, or watch Impulse's chest rise and fall. And he fell back asleep, every single time.

How can he not think about it? What did he do to deserve such kindness?

Impulse would probably hit him for thinking that about himself too. Ugh! What a stupid, kind idiot.