#which makes sense. those bitches are transparent

[cryptile]

Tfems do you fw these flags i made of the famously sequentially hermaphodite clownfish on top of the transfem flag

[curseofaphrodite]

Two of Hearts

daemon targaryen x reader | deck of cards part 2/3,

series masterlist | summary: night time visitors often come with complications

Late into the night, you heard knocks on your door. There were persistent and rough, so you already knew it wasn't going to be your handmaiden. With curiosity getting the better of you, you pulled it open.

"Hello," Daemon tilted his head to one side. He didn't appear drunk, and he smelled fine, but something about him said he was intoxicated.

"What do you want?" you asked cautiously.

"I sensed you weren't sleeping and thought we could have a party of our own."

"Be serious."

"I am," he nodded towards your room. "I have much to talk about with the future queen. All politics, of course."

"I'm — Daemon, you can't be this stupid," you sighed. "I am not going to bed you. It's foolish you'd even think I would."

He blinked. "Who said anything about bedding?"

"I don't know what you think about me but I'm not going to be a whore. And if I am, it won't be for a prince who has more tantrums than a 12-year-old."

His puppy dog eyes immediately turned blank. Fear crept inside, because you knew you had finally annoyed him. You preferred him to look actually furious instead of whatever the hell he was doing now.

His right hand reached upwards quickly, grabbing your chin with an unfamiliar softness. While his touch was firmly gentle, his eyes said otherwise.

"Disrespecting me is disrespecting the court," he said sharply, forcing you to look at him. Your heart started hammering for more reasons than one. To add more bad luck, you heard footsteps in the distance.

"Someone's coming," you hissed, not wanting to be seen together in a somewhat compromising position.

"I bet it's Alicent... or maybe Viserys—"

Rumors, rumors, rumors. They had more power to destroy you than fire. You had learned that quickly even before coming to Westeros.

"Now's not your time for games," you said, gritting your teeth. Then you did the only thing you could. You grabbed him by his collar and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him as quickly as possible. He let go, but he seemed just as surprised as you.

"You can't be that scared of Viserys!" Daemon laughed, but there was a genuine question behind those words.

"I'm not scared!" You plopped down in your bed, looking out the window with a frown. "I just don't know what I'm doing here."

"Don't play clueless. You're here to get the Iron Throne, as foolish as it seems."

"Why?" your eyes turned to him, determined. "Why is it foolish for someone like me to get the throne?"

"You're not a Targaryen. You'll never be a Targaryen."

"Are you calling a war against my house?"

Daemon walked towards the table, then took the chess board which you had brought from your home. You had no one to play it with, so it remained useless. Until now.

Wordlessly, he arranged the wooden figures, then drew himself a chair so he could sit next to you. You frowned.

"Make a move," he asked, nodding towards the pieces. You hesitated before pushing a pawn forward.

"Your house is reputable," he murmured, lost in the game. "But it's not enough. When worst comes to worst, dragons are what people fear. Not the rulers."

"I'd still be a better ruler than you. And certainly Viserys."

Daemon used his horse, so you did the same. The game passed in silence for a while, like he was contemplating more than just the strategy.

"You would be a better queen." He stated finally, looking up. But right as he said that, he also took your king.

Son of a bitch.

-----

He returned the next night. And the next. And the next.

To be transparent, Daemon did have a plan. He would think of the sweetest of things to say to you (anything to fuck up your wedding), yet words failed him every time.

It wasn't because he chose not to say it. He simply couldn't. He'd open his mouth and he'll already know what you'd reply if he called you beautiful. He already knows how you'll laugh if he compares your smile to a winter's moon. He knows you won't fall for any of his tricks.

Simply said, he knows you know him. So he resigned to chess games and talk of books, all of which only made him more restless.

Little by little, Daemon Targaryen found himself losing the act he wrote for himself.

-----

A WEEK LATER.

-----

The door seemed to be mocking you.

No matter how many times you've considered knocking, you couldn't bring yourself to do it, nor could you walk away. It was all a blur of wondering if you were crossing a line you'd already crossed. You were contemplating everything wrong you ever did in your life, from birth to where you were standing.

Then, out of the blue, the door opened loudly, startling the life out of you.

"I could hear your existential crisis from inside," Daemon said, his voice monotone. Despite the late hour, he was fully clothed. His white shirt and messy hair stood out against the candlelight. He smelled of sand, making you wonder if he was out by the sea again.

"I—" you coughed. "You haven't come to my room for days."

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize I was obliged to."

"Daemon," you sucked in your breath, wondering just how awkward this conversation was going. "You're the only fr-acquaintance I have in this palace."

"You can say friend."

"Fine then. Friend."

He sighed. "The rumors were getting more complicated. I couldn't tell every person I saw on my way back from your room that I was merely teaching you how to play chess. it sounds unbelievable even to me."

"Since when have rumors stopped you?" you challenged, glaring. "Do I remind you that they're going to spin stories regardless of the facts anyway?"

"Do you really want a chess partner so much that you're willing to lose every night?"

"I'll win one day," you said, glad to sound light-hearted again. "And like I said, I've grown to like your annoying ass. You're one of the evilest men I've encountered in my life, but you're just as entertaining."

"Well then, it'd be rude of me to not invite you to your jester's room." He said, stepping aside. "Which reminds me, I have a particular book you'd love. It's about a queen trapped in a high tower."

"Let me guess, a prince saves her?" you asked, walking inside. Your eyes didn't miss out on anything. His room was different, with a large silver bed and more windows than you can count. Everything appeared regal and expensive, but all of them were just as messy.

"A dragon does." Daemon left the door unlocked, as if it could give you extra reassurance. You internally rolled your eyes.

"Sounds very Targaryen."

"The book is supposedly a Targaryen artifact too."

"Supposedly?"

"I stole the book from the vault when I was 9 years old. It bore the family crest and looked important so I figured what's the harm."

You laughed. "Did you really?"

Maybe you imagined it, or maybe your laugh had something to do with how his eyes suddenly softened. You felt butterflies just by the thought.

"Don't believe me? Check the cupboard. The book's there."

You wandered across the room until you reached where he was pointing at. You pulled it open and saw a mess of decoratives inside; from goblets to jewel-studded rings.

"Don't you ever clean?" you asked, looking for the mysterious book anyway.

"I don't think the servants know this is my room. Who could blame them, I'm hardly even here."

"Yes, I forgot you like to spend your time in others' rooms," you teased, wondering whose room he had been in the last few nights. You were almost tempted to ask.

"I truly am sorry if you were led to think I was mad at you. Forget the rumors, I just didn't want to disturb your duties. You're undoubtedly busy." His voice grew more grave, if that was even possible.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The wedding's in three days." His voice came from right behind you. His body was pressed up against yours, and his hand reached over your shoulder to get to the higher shelf.

"The book is up here." He said for clarification. But you didn't move, didn't reply, didn't even take the book from his hands as he lowered it. You simply stood there, registering his words and his warm breath right beside your neck.

"The wedding preparations are done so I'm not busy," you whispered. Why did it sound like you were apologizing?

Daemon put the book back and slowly circled your waist with his arms. It was purely affectionate, and that made you want to hug him and cry. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, taking his time to answer.

"It's a wonder how Viserys gets everything I want. The throne, and now you." He said, and you didn't know what was softer — his touch or his words.

You groaned. "Stop that! Stop acting as if I'm anything more than an unfortunate liability for your throne."

"That's the irony in it," he pressed a kiss against your neck and you melted into a puddle inside. You were dead and resurrected back to life when he dragged his lips across your skin. "We're both traitors. I'm a liar so you can't trust a word I say so if I ever truly love you, you won't believe it anyway."

"Because it'd be a lie."

"I will plead with you just once." He turned you around, cupping your jaw. He stared intently, bravely — as if he was about to do something he never did. "Just once I will beg. Don't marry him."

"Daemon—"

"Please." He went down on his knees, holding your hands instead. He wasn't even looking up at you, like that would cost him plenty. His voice was shaky and he knew this wasn't just an act. He would never humiliate himself for his tricks.

He was truly desperate.

"I can't back out of the wedding. Viserys would call a war on my house. My family—"

"I know you won't say yes but hear me out, humor me for a minute," He clasped your hands tighter. "We could run away, I don't want the fucking throne. I want you—"

"I have to go," you said firmly, fighting back the sudden urge to kneel beside him and never part. "I shouldn't have come."

You pulled back and he let you go, wide-eyed and surprised. He stood up and watched as you walked off. He followed halfway, then upon realizing you were indeed gone, he slammed the door shut.

"Fuck!" He yelled, kicking the nearby table.

It didn't help. His shoulders started to shake, he was breathless, and before he knew what was happening — he started to cry.

------------------------

next, final part will be out soon! itll end happy i swear 😭🤌

-----------------------

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[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #20

20. LUXEMBOURG Tali - "Fighter" 13th place

Decade Ranking: 73/153 [Above Electric Fields, below Emma Muscat]

For a grand, greatly anticipated return, "Fighter" has always been just there for me. It's summery, upbeat, lightweight and frivolous. Not a shabby, nor a moneymaker. This entry is an FFF (Fun Finale Filler) and it knows it.

How do I know that it knows itself? Well,

BADLY ANIMATED CGI LEOPARDS 😍 😍. You know how I feel about staging tricks like that. They're tacky and ugly and stupid and transparently try to cover up a middling composition.😍 idk, I love Leopards and I love the colour purple, so maybe it was just tacky ENOUGH to be funny, but I stan the decision-making because Tali > Ochman.

It was quite amusing 2 me that Luxembourg made their grand return after 31 years, only to try to throw vast swaths of cash at unnessecary embellishments because they KNEW it wasn't a high flier and needed to throw in SOMETHING, ANYTHING to make it work. Shirtless sexy dancers, badly animated VR, all the pyrotechnics in the world. It feels... very emblematic to them as a country even though this was their first ever modern era contest? "Money fixes everything", no wonder the EBU wanted their opulent arses back.

And it is funny they staged "Fighter" like that because "Fighter" always kind of worked, anyway? It was a plucky power-up song, and a clear qualifier in semi 1 no matter from which position it performed.

It didn't NEED the leopards

it didn't NEED the gratuituous sexual tension lmao

The way to go with a song such as "Fighter" is by finding a balance between tough and cute. The balance swung a bit too heavily in favour of "tough", because "Fighter" just isn't that kind of song, despite the reworks Lux tried to force. It's whimsically French foremost and while "France was historically a militaristic powerhouse,"toughness" suits France historically, nearly everyone associates it with cultural sophostication and romance. (hence why France is always culture focused in Civ, and never the feudal, chivalry-themed warmongering menace it actually was for most of its history ♥)

As ridiculous Fighter's staging got (and how lowkey BAD Tali'Golergant vas Eshkoli's styling was), it still vibed as a fun time. It might just be my latent alcoholic ass imprinting on the tequila sunrise colous scheme, but still. Tali took command of her dancers, showed her inner strength by fistpumping the air and thickened her braids so they no longer resembled antennae.

And she kinda ate those lives, yo.

In semi 1 Lux made for an excellent palate cleanser, a burst of energy after the period of inaneness Rim Tim Tagi Dim left in its wake. I love Raiven dearly and I really like Iolanda, but excitement was not their game. Tali came to the rescue when needed.

In the finale it was less necessary, though it did make Israel stand out as even more miserable to me, so there is that.

Sigh, I have to address the Israeli thing, don't I?

Look, I don't fucking CARE that Tali is proud of her Israeli-Jewish heritage. Nor that she visits the fake country twice a year. Nor that her song was produced by that other israeli Tali. I think her views on the matters are misguided and warped, but I get it. She's going to stick up for her OG country and her people, and we'd be foolish to expect her to do a 180° turn just because we believe she should. She has her stance, I disagree with it, but I can respect it. Civilians aren't responsible for whatever bloodthirsty maniac rules the roost or their actions, regardless of whether they elected them directly or not.

(though I will say that her transparent and overtly cheerful agreement with Joost's DQ all "YAY! HE BROKE THE RULES AFTER ALL ^_^ :claps:" made me ALOL. That DQ is still a grim affair, but lmfao what a scrump cheerleading bitch ♥).

But in a sense I wish Tali had been Israel's entrant himself. The only thing that erases Israel's controversy is their withdrawal, true, and Tali would have beenthe perfect horcrux, but if we WERE to have that country at Eurovision, I'd rather have them with Plucky Apolitical Filler (ft. Three Giant Leopards) rather than Teary Propaganda Ballad (Eurovision Reskin), y'know?

Also note, dear Israeli's, that -by my knowledge- Tali was NOT shunned by the other acts or the fan community, nor by the media and the professional juries, despite being half-Israeli and Jewish and zionistic. The few strays that she did end up catching were by the usual dumbfuck bigots on social media and amounted to nothing. So much for antisemitism, huh?

It's difficult to end the write-up after that rant that had little to do with the performance, so I will just say this: Tali's placement, while a tad high, proved that there's always a place for positivity and acceptance at Eurovision, no matter your background or your political colour.

With retrospection on our side, it makes sense juries would vote for "Fighter" as everyone agreed Nemo should win anyway, allowing them to siphon away twelves like a vacuum on amphetamine. With Croatia, Italy and France picking up the scraps, anyone with a modicum of inoffensiveness would be favoured to do well, (since this finale was HIGHLY jury unfriendly) which also favoured Lux because of the novelty coming with their return.

Ultimately it's our choices in life that define us, and Tali's were to give us a fun time unburdened by shackles of war, and that, in THIS FUCKING YEAR, was worth a lot to me.

THE RANKING:

[traggalicious]

A Creature of Exceptional Will

Everything was red. Rage and blood and oozing flesh, the cloying metallic perfume of gore seeping into their lungs. Minuscule cracks spanned the covering of the pod, thinner than a hair. Just that small victory cost half their fingers, which throbbed in time with their rushing heartbeat. A snarl becomes a whimper eking out of their grit teeth as a sudden flare of bone-deep—no, brain-deep, soul-deep—pain. A flash of terror follows as they forget—something. The pain becomes confusion becomes rage once more as they scream, hitting against the thick glass that kept them from freedom. The noise reverberated in the small space. For a moment, senses were reduced to nothing but the agony of failure, of forgetting, of the broken bones and hanging intestines and acid-burnt flesh. A harsh wail akin to a dying animal escaped them as they fell back against the wall of the pod. Lungs burning and throat stinging, they glowered through the transparent front.

Nothing, nothing but the same flesh that they constantly craved to rend and carve into mincemeat. Nothing but spiraling thought-fragments and slipping memories. Seething, they clawed at their bloodied arms as a dizzy spell hit them, followed by another feeling of loss. Those kept happening. The necromancer said that was usual for a ‘thrall’.

How terrifying—humiliating—was that, being a thrall. They’d had enough of that with Father, they thought. But that—that was different. Father was the end of all things, he who gave them a purpose.

This, however? Being at the mercy of a lone necromancer and mind flayers? This was worse. Something writhed in the back of their mind—thought, or tadpole? They could never fucking tell anymore. What was a memory? What was real? What was just another symptom of their live desiccation? They barked out a laugh.

Was this the price of rebellion? They didn’t remember exactly what they’d done, or with whom, but certainly it hadn’t been right. After all, there was no way Orin had simply managed to get the jump on them without help. Father had most certainly aided her. They would never lose to Orin. Orin was fanciful and neurotic, wasting precious time meant to be spent serving on silly designs and concepts. She tried to make ‘art’ from murder, ignorant to the natural beauty of a fresh corpse. Huffing out a laugh, they rest their head on the glass with a dull thud. Of course they could remember that.

No. No, they would never forget. They would remember and remember and after they died they would still remember. They would rip the memories from their porridge-brain and smear it on the walls, carry it within the echo of their diseased soul. For forgetting was a concession of victory, a relinquishing of power, an admittance of defeat. They would never give that bitch the satisfaction. Never, never will they stand defeated, rather they will stand over the shapeshifter’s cooling corpse, flaying her treacherous skin from her cursed flesh, and—

—The rest of the thought is lost, swallowed by that gods-forsaken leech. Everything is, eventually.

[haevnlii]

how i make scripts aesthetic on google docs (on pc) <33

Part One - Images

! Due to Tumblr's 30 image limit, I'll have to make this in parts. This one revolves around how I sort pictures to make them look aesthetic or just more organised in my script. + I'm not the best at organising tutorials sometimes but I'm trying to not make this confusing <//3

Ignore any typos and errors, thankyou. If you need me to re-explain anything, please feel free to ask. I feel like I haven't explained properly but, idk what else to do, lol :,)

Page isn't broken, to avoid messing up the way images are organised.

— ◦◦◦

What do I use?

Other than Google Docs (obviously), — Fontspace | A background remover [my mains: 1, 2] | Pinterest/WeHeartIt/Google search, and other sources for pretty pictures, pngs, etc. 🤍🌙

bundling images

Using the different text wrapping options, I found that it helped a lot more to "bundle" images together, so that things look prettier + more organised.

! example

This is pretty simple, honestly; Fontspace provides font text as pictures, transparent bg and not, — so organising the text from it will fall under the tut for this bit.

^ These are the text wrapping options. The first one is the default and limits text placement/movement, the other four allow you to move text where-ever on the document (especially if print view is off) but each do different things.

In order of settings, examples (press images to see properly):

! tip : If you're bundling images that "overlap" too much, make sure to crop at least one (or however many needed) past its actual size so that it won't be a pain in the ass moving them later on.

- You may also use "behind text" for one of them, if it helps, so that it's easier to select the images, this also applies to using image over text (examples in each image).

what I mean:

Using these features, I'll—as per the aesthetic of my script—sort things accordingly. Get creative with the way you're doing this, and keep experimenting 'till you're able to make stuff look the way you want, lol.

"BuT DaRLIng wHaT Do I dO wItH ThIS iNFo??!?!?" bitch idk find an aesthetic 💀💀

like those 2016 fashion sticker books or smthn, idk- whatever u like-

Going into the aesthetics more ;; I usually pick diff aesthetics for each script and refuse to script until I find a pretty one LMFOAOAO- But I especially go for inspiration from (Korean?) bullet journal aesthetics which include lots of image bundling and customised tables.

Why korean ones specifically? Idk the difference, but using "Korean" as a keyword gets the stuff I'm looking for. 💀 But I also search for little pngs I want to add to my script; and if it's a false transparent png or has any background, I use my background removers to make it an actual transparent png.

And, sometimes, I like to search for colours then use my snip tool to screenshot them really thin, like those brown-beige borders you see in all my posts, then use them in my script like highlighter lines, like-

That's pretty much it, really.

! examples from two of my scripts

Fontspace fonts apply as well. One thing about Fontspace is that, you can change the colour of the text ;; as well as the background.

The brown colour is the text's colour, the blue one is the background's colour. You can of course choose to have no background, but it's there as an option.

I don't know of any features where you can save a colour but that's maybe me being dumb ;; but what I do is set a certain colour (i.e. blue) then use the colour adjustment in google docs to change it to black, red, or whatever over colours r in the script.

i.e.:

Anyways I'm p close to the image limit, so that's it for this post.

I hope this makes sense bc explaining this was harder than I thought. 💀💀 Once again I can clear anything up if needed

! tips

Keywords you can use for tiny decorations, are "clipart", "[aethetic name] clipart transparent png", "[aesthetic name] sticker png transparent", etc.

You can have a look at the aesthetics wiki for ideas for your script

Fotor is what I use to crop images into different shapes, and it is how I got the circle/heart shaped pictures in my documents ^-^*

...I'll add more when I remember them.

next up ··· customising tables ✿

[crimeronan]

Just finished the mindscape fic and i am SCREAMING. You delivered so well I felt like I was the 4th person in Luz’s mind *sob*. We stan for parent Raine. How tf will these three interact with Luz now? It’ll be incredibly suspicious if Luz doesn’t remember they were in her mind, and super tense if Luz does, but only fuzzily. Also Hunter is not going to like knowing these three poked a hole in Luz’s head, and also KNOW what happened with Luz and Belos, which is something that Hunter still ignores when it comes to the details. This change in dynamic is going to be verrrryyyyy InTeReStInG 👀. Also, will Luz ever have an eyebrow scar in this AU?? From an accident or an assassination attempt maybe?

thank you so much!!

you know i didn't have Active plans for luz to get an eyebrow scar but i'm sure she COULD. she's very prone to doing dumb shit that results in injury. also may be prone to having attempts made on her life but that depends on how high i want to spike hunter's daily blood pressure

my current plan re: how much luz does or doesn't remember is like.... she doesn't consciously remember much, BUT. she DOES find herself having impulses that make no sense re: her level of transparency with darius/raine/eber. and she does find herself getting confused about whether she dreamed that raine could give her a really good hug or if it happened a long time ago during a music lesson or if she's just completely gaslit herself into THINKING that raine wants to be nice to her when luz feels like she's kind of been a bitch and that raine Shouldn't like her anymore, and-

you can kind of see how this goes. luz is scattered and confused where those three are concerned. but she's so scattered and confused about life in general, due to All Of The Trauma, that she hasn't really clocked it as strange or suspicious. she just assumes that she's being weird and neurotic. (which would - or will?? - make raine feel SO GUILTY. they DO NOT WANT LUZ TO GASLIGHT HERSELF. they DO want to convince her that theyre nonthreatening enough to seek hugs from)

gotta figure out exactly how luz and hunter find out what happened and what raine darius n eber now know. because i think it's inevitable in some ways. however there's absolutely no way to make it Not messy bc you are right: hunter would Flip The Fuck Out about the situation. arguably worse than luz herself would.

truly it's better for everyone if nobody confesses or gets found out about any of this til luz and hunter are like well into their 30s and have moved way past all of the horror bullshit. like. i don't THINK things will happen that way. BUT IT WOULD BE BETTER....

[theepisceswriter]

Tonight’s dirty thought: Virgin!Armin’s first time being with you.

TW: very naughty naughty things with College!Armin but nothing too descriptive, that weird brainrot to headcanon to mini Drabble back to brainrot format I do because I got carried away, 18+, MINORS DNI!

Word count: 1618

          You’ve been long-time college study buddies with Armin and there’s always been tension between you two for as long as you can remember. You’ve seen how he sneaks glances down the cleavage of your shirt whenever you reach over to correct something on his paper or how he moves a textbook from the table to his lap to hide his throbbing erection after you tell him wild stories from your freshman year of college. He has the same effect on you too; your whole body shuddering whenever he leans over your shoulder to look over your notes and how your thighs clench shut for friction on days where his golden hair is in a disarray and his cheeks are flushed because it just so happens to be one of the warmer days.

          One day you decide to go to his dorm a little earlier than usual because you got released from your class a little early and why not spend those extra minutes by Armin’s side? You’re positive he wouldn’t mind because he always enjoyed your company just as much as you did his, but you find yourself pausing outside the door to his dorm when the sound waves of soft moans and fought back whimpers meet your ears. You’re in complete and utter shock. Not to mention the stab in your heart you feel at the thought of Armin being with someone who isn’t you despite the two of you not even dating. Your feet begin to shuffle you away from the door, planning on going back to your dorm and listening to your ‘Sad bitch music’ playlist on Spotify and canceling today’s session with him and probably all the rest to come in the future, but that all changes when you hear your name being moaned.

          “Oh fuck y/n, you feel so good.”

           You make it out despite the wooden door muffling most of his sentence. You immediately feel your cheeks become warmer at the sound like you haven’t heard him speak your name hundreds of times already, but this time is different. It’s in an octave that you’ve never heard leave his lips before, one that leaves you stuck and flustered; the rest of the effects his voice had on you going between your legs. There’s a strong compelling feeling in your head telling you to let yourself in right then and there, because he had given you a copy of his key months ago, but you decide to wait until you hear the sheets crumple on his bed, indicating that he was done and most likely cleaning up the mess that he made, until you unlock the door and knock on it gently to announce your presence. He’s completely dressed at this point, only wearing blush on his cheeks and the tint of his erection not going all the way down is still visible in his sweats. Things you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you didn’t know what he was doing only minutes ago and looking for them.

          You explain your situation to him and just like you predicted he didn’t care at all. Matter of fact, he was happy to spend some extra hours with you today. You went on with your daily study session like nothing happened at all except for when you decided to poke and prod at his romance and sex life. And from his answers, you came to the conclusion that he hardly had any experience dipping his feet into those two aspects of his life. Which was expected when he never had any stories in return to tell you after you told him all about your escapades and rendezvous. You decided you were going to change that for poor Armin, so at the end of your study session, you declare that the next one would take place at your dorm instead of his. Which he didn’t find suspicious at all because it wasn’t the first time you had suggested to move it there instead, but it was your “Come prepared” along with a wink and sly smirk that left him on the edge of his seat wondering what you had underneath your sleeves. And knowing how you were, it didn’t take long at all for him to piece it together.

          He’s so fidgety and flustered from the moment he arrives at your dorm, erection already poking out of his pants before the two of you even become physical because he’s just that excited for what’s going to happen later on. It doesn’t help at all that you greeted him at the door in nothing but a graphic t-shirt you stole from him a while ago, your nipples poking out shamelessly through the fabric and only a pair of underwear covering your lower body. Within minutes the two of you were on each other, lips clashing and your tongue swirling around his leading the kiss.

          It takes everything in him not to cum from the two of you kissing alone, but he swears he had something close to an orgasm as he watched your breasts fall from the confines of your t-shirt as you pulled it over your head. For someone as nervous as he was only minutes ago he’s on you in seconds, one hand going to knead your other breast and pinch at your nipple while his mouth attaches to the other one and begins sucking and licking away like a pro. There’s no need for you to guide him or be in charge anymore because his confidence is suddenly shooting through the roof. You’ve unlocked something in him; a feral part of Armin that you had no idea even existed. His hands are roaming all over your body and he’s not shy where they land at all, his fingers teasing the elastic waistband of your panties before dropping them in there completely and using his middle finger to spread the wetness between your slit that had been growing since you caught him masturbating the other day. 

          “Is this all for me, y/n? You got your pussy all nice and wet just for me?” Words spoken by him that you thought you’d never hear before and that have you going crazy. If that wasn’t enough, his two slender fingers disappear into you and his thumb rubs lazy figure 8s into your puffy clit, just begging for his attention and he’s finally giving it to you. He’s hitting all the spots with his fingers that you can’t, pushing them down against the most sensitive and spongy parts of your insides that leave you creaming all over his fingers minutes later. And to keep you occupied while he discards of all the clothing on his lower body he stuffs them into your mouth forcing you to lick them clean while he goes on and on about how you’re such a good girl for him and how he can’t wait for the day his cock is in between your lips instead of his fingers. You managed to catch a glimpse of his cock when he pulls it out and it’s not the longest, but boy does it have a nice girth to it and it’s long enough to reach just the spot. Soft nearly transparent veins decorate its shaft, its tip is a pretty flushed pink color that nearly matches with your inner lips, dripping with precum, and he’s cleanly shaven despite a few blonde hairs that he missed.

          Because of his fingers stretching you out earlier and not to mention your own cum acting as a natural lubricant, he slips into you with ease and makes you feel nice and full. He has you on your stomach on the couch, hands on your hips lifting your ass in the air as close to him as possible, and one hand on your back holding you down and forcing you to stay arched and in place as he pounds into you. He’s never felt a sensation as heavenly as your slick velvety walls swallowing his cock whole with each thrust he makes. Just moans aren’t enough to show just how good he feels. You can feel bruises forming under his grip on your skin and at one point he even leans down to bite on your shoulder hard enough to leave a couple of marks, not to mention the hickies you’re positive he left on your breasts from earlier.

          He’s spent too many nights alone with his cock in his hand daydreaming about this moment, part of him still thinks this is just some wet dream he’s going to wake up from. His senses are in an overload right now, tears brimming his eyes making them glossy from the pleasure, and before you know it he’s thrusting deeper into you, if possible, and filling you up with his warm load. You don’t care that it only took him a handful of minutes to reach that explosive climax because you can’t recall a time you’ve felt as good as you have in that short amount of time than with any partner you’ve hand.

          You clean the both of you up afterward, offering him water to replenish all the energy he used just now, and you even give him a short virginity loss Q&A asking him if he enjoyed himself. To which he lets out a breathy, “Hell yeah.” He feels a bit guilty for all the bruises you have littering your body now because of you, but you assure him that it’s nothing, and as long as you’re happy he’s happy. You spend the rest of the day together snuggled up on the couch watching movies together and might have had a round 2 later on that night.

[votederpycausemufins]

more content for the SF series! (since the first one was Summoning Family and now it's Surprisingly Familiar). i can't believe it's chapter 5. and i'm not sure if i mean can't believe it's only ch. 5, or already ch. 5. you know, both is good!

Edit: iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople!!! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel forgive meeeee

“Let me take care of one thing before we explore the rest of the server.” Sense spoke up, Grian only half paying attention. “You can explore as you see fit, but I wouldn’t wander too far.”

As the redstoner walked away, Grian went the other direction for a few steps before stopping. “Are you going to keep following me around or what?” There was no immediate answer, but then someone appeared near Grian.

“Well, you look different than before.” Came an echoey voice from the figure who was greyed out and transparent. “What happened?”

“I’m from the past, but not the past here, so I’m not going to be able to fix whatever is wrong with you.” Grian replied, crossing his arms. It had already been explained that Grifter went looking for a new dimension to find alternate versions of his family since apparently the real versions weren’t the best. Grian didn’t fully believe it at this point, but Sense said Grifter would bring back some proof, which was a little worrying.

“There’s nothing you need to fix for me.” The ghost, because that’s all it could be, responded. “There is no business I have unfinished that you could finish for me. And that’s fine with me. It means I can help and explore with little worry, though I do like this castle.”

“Right.” Grian responded, unsure how to feel about the ghost. He already dealt with a few at school, some better than others, so he wasn’t exactly sure how this one would act. “Well, I would like if you stopped following me around.”

“Alright Grifter.” The ghost replied, and then left, going down a hallway before disappearing. Even with them gone, Grian still felt on edge, so he didn’t go far, just going back to where he had been left. When Sense did finally come back, Grifter was with him again, which finally helped Grian feel a bit safer again.

“Alright, so, I’ve talked with a few people to make sure they don’t cause problems as well as pick up some papers with information you might want to know. And you don’t need to worry about it getting damaged because it’s magically protected.”

“Your magic, or other Listeners?” Grian asked, which surprised Grifter. He looked over to Sense who didn’t look as concerned and quickly explained.

“I gave Grian a quick tour of the castle and explained some things along the way. About the magic from being a Listener. How Grian may still have magic but is also still considered in-training so his magic is much weaker. How you came here trying to dimension hop for Taurtis again and how that went. Things like that.”

Grifter smiled and gave Sense a kiss, which he used to quietly whisper a message to him. He then pulled back and made sure Grian definitely heard him the second time he spoke to keep up appearances. “Thank you. And he took it well? I mean… I- he does look a little…”

Grian crossed his arms. “I’m fine. I’ve got the basics which is already pretty helpful. If I can learn how to use magic, I might be able to use that when I go back and save Taurtis since obviously new dimensions are off the table again.”

Grifter raised an eyebrow and Sense elaborated. “So far he’s only hopped once and got rid of their second universe versions.”

“It would be complicated if there were two of us. I mean, it’s already complicated enough with you and me and we look pretty different, what with you being older and all.”

“Yeah, same sentiment when I got here.” Grifter agreed. “Essentially this place is all flipped around. I mean, dad here is Death instead of mom, the Sam here was good, The me- you- us here was like some sort of god and got imprisoned. Stuff like that. People see me and think I’m the one that got imprisoned, so they used his name for me, and I mean, it’s pretty close to Grian.”

“You really don’t mind?” Grian asked, making Grifter shrug.

“Well, either way the nickname is Gri, so I don’t mind too terribly much. And it’s better than… you know.”

Grian shuddered a little before Grifter started leading them all away, putting the small stack of papers he had into a bag and giving the bag to Grian. The teen took the bag and opened it up to look inside, finding the newly added papers as well as a bunch of pink things. Pulling one out, Grian was surprised to find it was a sword, and another a shovel. He put those back in and then pulled out some yellow carrots, which seemed to glitter as he held them in the light. “What is all of this?”

Grifter turned around to face Grian, walking backwards a few steps to see what was being talked about. “Oh, that’s a bunch of starter gear. I mean, normally it would be iron, but I doubt you wanted that, and I’m sort of in charge around here - long story - so I upgraded you to aetherite which is as good as you can get here. You’ve got a sword, pick, axe, shovel, and a full set of armor. I’ve also given you golden carrots and plenty of steak so you won’t be hurting for food. Also there’s a crossbow and plenty of stuff to load it with, like arrows, darts and fireworks.”

Grian nodded slowly, looking through the bag again. “Okay, can I like… get trained how to use these? I mean I sort of know how to use this stuff from, you know. But I mean, can I get a gun or something?”

“Oh of course!” Sense was the one to reply, putting down a shulker box. “What type are you after? Standard or more upgraded?”

“Handgun with plenty of ammo before reloading sounds best.” Grian said, looking into the box. Sense helped him find one that fit what he liked as well as ammo that matched, and then it went in the bag.

“I still think you should train with the other weapons to be safe, but gun still is better than umbrella.” Grifter commented, getting a look from Grian before he confirmed that, yes, someone’s main weapon of choice around there was an umbrella.

“Alright, now that you’re geared up, let’s get on with a proper tour!”

.

.

.

A good sized team entered into Helscraft, consisting of Mumbo, Grum (Jrum wanted to stay behind and watch Kokatori, but Mumbo thought it might also be some fear of getting stranded again), Doc, Tommy, Phil, Xisuma, and Paul. Wilbur and Techno also tagged along when they heard the news, refusing to let their brother disappear again. More of the hermits wanted to go, but with the two triplets refusing to take no for an answer and Xisuma not wanting to take too many people to hels at once, they didn’t really have room.

Xisuma attempted to get all of them to the main spawn island for the world, but that didn’t quite work out with everyone except him arriving there. That was soon followed by Grum taking charge and leading them through the world and to the foot of a black and yellow building, which he knocked on the door of.

A few minutes later, the doors finally opened to someone in dark red armor and a helmet with a much more standard design. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” The person said, looking just at Grum at first. “Oh, it’s you. If NPG isn’t at home, he’s probably-”

“No. We need Xisuma back.” Grum spoke up, and this time the person looked up at the rest of the group and sighed.

“Honestly, I finally got him back here again and you’ve got to take him away immediately? Here I thought it was finally something to improve this… horrid week. What do you need him for anyway? Isn’t he just a chauffeur or whatever?”

Tommy was the first to respond, pushing to the front of the group. “Look bitch, we don’t want to deal with any more shit right now. Just hand over him and Grian so we can leave.”

Though the red tinted visor, Tommy could just barely see the hels admin raise an eyebrow. “Grian? My brother is the only one here from wels not in your group.”

“Wrong answer fucker! We know that Gr-” Tommy was cut off as something lowered from the ceiling. Everyone stared as a pink worm on a string descended from somewhere inside the door. It had yellow paper cutouts of a mask, cape and M decorating it, and it kept getting lower until it was eye level with Evil Xisuma, then lightly bonked against his helmet a few times.

The way the hels admin slumped slightly and his eyes stared back just showing how done he was with everything. “Would you excuse me for just one second?” He said, and then the worm started to go back up before EX grabbed it, trapping it in a fist, then yanking down, someone falling from the ceiling a moment later. “Get out of my house Phedaz.”

The helsmit with dark blue hair, matching pale blue skin that faded to black on his arms and pitch black eyes picked up the discarded worm on a string before scuttling off through the door on all fours, racing past the team after Grian. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Phedaz.” EX said in a bored and defeated tone. “He’s been doing that all week. I just wanted to torture my brother a little to blow off some steam, is that too much to ask?”

“When we’re looking for Grian, it really is.” Mumbo spoke up, making the Helsmit sigh.

“Well, Grian’s not here, only NPG. Not even Grifter is here, and he hasn’t been here for a day or two now. That being said, Sense did leave a few hours ago, likely to meet up with that bastard.”

“Okay, so where are they?” Paul spoke up, getting EX’s attention.

The hels admin stared at Paul before pulling out a potion of some sorts and chugging it. “I’m not sane enough for this right now. Go talk with Theseus will you? Come back here when you need to leave or whatever and I’ll let you have him.”

.

.

.

“Alright! And that’s about it for the tour!” Grifter said cheerily as he, Grian, Sense, and now the two hels bots arrived at the castle again. “Now as a reminder, you should do your best to stay away from any areas we did not tour just to be on the safe side. The one exception would be where Euro and Krys are staying, but it’s far enough away I wouldn’t bother, plus Silski always likes to visit and staying away from him in general is a good idea.”

Grifter was going to say more, but then Sense stopped walking. “Oh for fucks sake, he’s back.”

Grian looked over to where Sense was looking and saw someone vaguely familiar leaning against the castle wall. They wore a trench coat and a beanie that struggled to hold down their very puffy brown and grey hair and they also held a guitar, quietly strumming a few cords. “Hey, you’re back. Missed you at the show.”

Before Grian could ask any questions, Grifter stomped over to the person, followed by Sense who was getting out a weapon. “Off the property Wile.”

“Pay me.”

“I’m not paying you. Leave.”

The person, Wile, stared Grifter down for a few seconds before shrugging. “Nah, gotta pay me first. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” And he started to play the first few notes of a song. He didn’t get far though, because Sense walked up to him. He didn’t even use his weapon to attack, simply yanking the guitar from his hands and smashing it against the castle wall in one fluid motion.

Wile looked down at the broken pieces of his instrument for a moment before pulling out a second guitar and continuing the song. Sense yelled in frustration while Grifter pulled a few feathers out of his wings. Grian reacted more than his copy, wincing at what was likely painful, but the hels didn’t mind. He instead used the pulled feathers as knives, stabbing them into Wile until he dropped to the ground, dead.

“Oh my god! Is he dead?!” Grian yelled after the person didn’t move for a while.

“Yes and no.” Grifter replied, kicking the body to the side. “He respawns, it’s just his corpse stays with his shit in it. Seesee, would you be a dear?” Sense didn’t get a chance to react as Sefter walked up first and heaved the body over his head, then chucked it as far as he could away from the castle. “Hmm, well that works too I guess.”

Grian stared in the direction of Wile’s corpse before turning back to Grifter. “Who… Who was that?”

“Wile.” Grifter replied. “Essentially the Wilbur here. The only plus to him over Wil is that he mostly just sticks to L’Manberg.”

“Oh? Where’s that?” Grian asked. It wasn’t a place they really covered in the tour, but a few other countries had been mentioned.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t want you heading over there.” Grifter replied. “Sense, back me up here.”

Grian was a little surprised by Grifter calling the redstone by his name and not a nickname. “I know you said you’re… well you’re most likely over eighteen.”

“I am, but what does that have to do with it?” Grian asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

“L’Manberg’s a stripclub.”

That left Grian silent for a few seconds before he simply said, “Oh.”

“Well, now that things are awkward, I suppose you could meet some of the better parts of the family. They weren’t around for so long, they won’t be able to tell that past me isn’t past Grifter.”

“Who exactly is everyone here?” Grian asked, following Grifter as he started to walk off away from the castle again, Sense and the bots heading inside.

“Alright, I already covered Dad being Death.” Grifter started to explain. “Technically there’s another death which is his brother, but we don’t really cover him. Mom is named Krystina, or just Krys.” Grifter then gestured to where Wile’s body was thrown. “We already covered Wilbur and Wile. Instead of Techno, we have Euro, who mostly lives with Krys. Theseus is Tommy, and he’s moved elsewhere.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more?” Grian asked with slight hesitance.

Grifter shrugged. “Because there is. That’s just the bit you’re familiar with. Even though Wile’s a stripper, he is married to Sadie. Sadie has a kid named Fleur who’s a little older than you are right now. Krys also half adopted Silski, so technically that’s another sibling but I won’t count them. If you do want to, then they’re married and have a kid, but that’s not really important.”

“So… Sadie, Fleur, Silski, and two other people?” Grian asked, making sure he was following along. “Can I know their names just to be safe?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Silski’s married to this guy named Toob and they adopted a kid named Jane. Well, technically it’s ꄘ꒓ꂑꋫꁍꀭꆂ꒒ꁕ, but pronouncing that is a mess so they named her Jane instead.”

“Right… Do you have anywhere I can write this down?”

.

.

.

After what happened with Tommy before, the entire group was ready to attack if need be. Paul was the one to knock on the throne room door, willing to be the first line of defense. There was no answer at first, but footsteps from behind the door had everyone put their guard up. They all waited with bated breath before finally the large doors opened, and then Grian poked his head out.

Mumbo, Tommy and Grum all quickly recognized that it wasn’t actually the missing hermit, but the others were too worried that they reacted too fast. “Oi Grian, what the fuck was all that mate?”

After a moment, NPG pulled themself out of the hug Phil had trapped them in. “I am sorry for the confusion. I am NPG, not Grian. You came here not too long ago.” The robot then looked over to Wilbur, Doc and Paul. “Though you did not visit and I have not met you in person before.”

Tommy quickly spoke up and introduced people. “That’s Wil, Doc, and this guy’s named Paul. Grian kinda got kidnapped, so we’re back here looking for him instead.”

“Oh no! Did you check your old server again just to be safe?”

“Grifter’s the bitch that kidnapped him.” Tommy said, crossing his arms. “If he’s there, I’ll eat my compass.”

NPG nodded, then went back into the throne room and the group could hear him talking to someone that had Tommy’s voice. They stood there listening until NPG finally shouted approval for the group to enter.

“Well this is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see any of you again that soon.” Theseus spoke from his throne. He still was wearing his mask that looked like Dream’s, which made Tommy shudder a little as well as had Grum hiding behind Mumbo. “So, you’re after my brother. Hah, good luck with that.”

“You better fucking tell us something bitch!”

Theseus didn’t immediately reply to Tommy’s shout, instead handing off a paper to NPG, who happily took it and ran off. “Look, I haven’t seen him since he dragged me back to Dad. Technically he’s been here, but just stayed away. He’s admin of my old world now, so he’s probably stuck there. Sense also left recently, so I would guess he’s there too.”

“So, You’re saying we need to go through another version of the smp to find Grian?” Techno was the one to ask. “Ours was already pretty rough, how bad is this one?”

“Your creeper friend there is supposed to be Prof, right?” Theseus asked, his visible eyebrow raising in question.

“Yeah… he is.” Grum answered, peeking out from behind Mumbo for a moment. “Why?”

“Has he ever built a prison?”

“Well, he built Area 77 if that counts.” Mumbo answered, but Theseus just rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing that doesn’t count.”

“Oh definitely not. If what NPG says is right, it let people waltz right in.”

“Those were guided tours, man.” Doc replied. “And that’s just recent. I’ve done plenty of defenses back when we had the mycelium war.”

“Ooh, ah, defenses.” Theseus deadpanned. “Get real. Those aren’t what I’m asking about.”

“He’s asking about The Perd.” Paul spoke up. “Which yeah, he mostly built that himself.”

Theseus smiled and nodded, while everyone else looked confused, except for Doc himself and also Phil, who just looked stunned. “Wait, he’s the guy who made The Perdit-”

“Hey man, you can’t just go throwing that name around.” Doc spoke up, cutting Phil off. “The less people know, the better.”

Phil gestured to Paul. “And so he knows about it, why?”

“I was one of the testers.” Paul responded. “Really think I can’t get out of that vault of yours now?”

“We’re getting off topic.” Wilbur was the one to speak up. “Since this creeper guy has made that prison thing, is that good or not?”

“Very good.” Theseus replied. “Prof had to trap Grifter when he wasn’t an admin, so imagine what he’s doing as admin. Having your version of Dad is going to be good, but one of him is also better. And I guess also this guy here is good to have too.” Theseus added, glancing at Paul.

“What can you tell us about your old world.” Mumbo asked. “I’m sure even those from our version will be a bit lost since I can hardly wrap my head around this one.”

“Oh I could tell you plenty. I could say every little detail I went through in my years there. I’m sure plenty of it would be repetitive though, and I don’t really know what’s the same and what’s different.” Theseus explained. “But I can tell you what I do know.”

“And what’s that?” Phil asked, hoping that looking like the Phil here would help things.

“Well, when I was in that other place, your respawns were a fucking mess. Technically three respawns but it always depended on some shitty admin’s code.” Theseus stood up to make a point. “Instead You always respawn as long as you’ve got a place to respawn to. But if someone finds your anchor and breaks it, well, I wouldn’t die if I were you. Technically, there was more to it so Nightmare could try to get around his own rules, but it obviously didn’t work.”

“Is that it?” Tommy asked. “Lives are just done differently?”

Theseus rolled his eyes before sharply turning his head towards Tommy. “Well excuse me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the fucking admin over there anymore, bitch. Neither is Nightmare. I only knew about you having fucked up lives because of that thing there!” And he gestured towards Grum. “I don’t know your lives. I don’t know your world. So I don’t know what to fucking tell you that’s going to fucking help. At this point, you’re likely to know more than me!”

Everything was silent other than Theseus’ heavy breathing from yelling until there was a creak from the door as NPG came back in. “Is everyone okay? Thee? Do you want me to get Rusty?”

Theseus was still quiet, though he straightened his posture and his mask, then spoke. “No. I think I’ll be fine. Can you take these guys to Xannes? I’m done dealing with them.”

“Okay! I can do that!” NPG replied, and then he was leading the group out, being helped by threats Theseus was giving the group under the robot’s nose.”

When they returned to the admin’s base, he was disappointed to see them back so soon, but did allow Xisuma out of his ‘torture chamber’ - if it could really be called that - and let him take the team of people to the NSMP.

Xisuma took them into the other world and was suddenly glad his helmet was a filter. Tommy pulled his bandanna over his nose after gagging at the smell of the place while everyone but two of them reacted similarly. Since they had been there before, Phil and Mumbo knew what to expect. Techno also knew, but his sense of smell was enhanced from being a hybrid, so it didn’t help. And then while Tommy had been in the group before, at that point he had been replaced by Theseus and never actually went into the NSMP.

Not wanting to stick around in one place, the group started travelling, hoping for some sort of landmark that was more than just rubble and possibly someone nice enough to help them out.

But back on Helscraft, Xannes was upset the moment the group was gone, and a moment after that, he sent himself to the palace to meet with Theseus. Lightning crackled around him in his rage, pushing aside anyone who even stepped in his line of sight.

“Theseus!” He shouted as the doors to the throne room were broken. “What the fuck did I just send them into?!”

Theseus looked up at the admin. “The NSMP. Why? Did you somehow not?”

“Something intercepted them. I mean, I tried hacking them through the whitelist, so it should have-”

“That place doesn’t have a white list last I checked.” Theseus said. “Nightmare never gave it one. He made access public. There was just a little… test of sorts to get through first.”

Xannes didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of test?”

“One that I’m sure they’ll get through. The question is how long it will take them. If they’re lucky? Hmm, maybe a few days.”

Xannes didn’t bother listening to more as he followed along the group he just sent ahead of him. He ended up in the same place the group did, in the spawn of the DSMP. And if it weren’t for the fact that Xannes could feel his hacking powers get limited, he would have thought it was the regular world. “Fine. I guess we’re doing this all the hard way.”

[highladyluck]

Mat’s Types, or On Tricksters

I recently made a joke about Mat's 'type' essentially being the Shadar Logoth dagger, and while I stand by it, I also think there's a lot more to it than that. I believe Mat actually has two types, which is entirely appropriate for a trickster archetype. One of his types is playful, joyful, generous people, who reflect his early- but persistent- personality. The other is sharp, powerful, existentially dangerous people, like the person he becomes over the course of the series. Like a raven- itself a trickster figure in Haida storytelling- Mat is attracted to shiny things, mirrors, and death.

But first, some definitions. I'm calling Mat a trickster archetype, so what is that? The trickster archetype is built on a kind of dual contrast. To trick someone, you must change things in a surprising way. Tricksters introduce chaos into an ordered system, or reveal order in what was thought to be chaos. (It's not surprising, or a change, to add order to order, or chaos to chaos.) So tricksters are transformational, liminal figures, who defy expectations and subvert the preexisting order- but who therefore *require* predictions and structure to have any kind of impact or meaning at all. Playing a game requires there be rules; revealing a loophole requires there be a contract.

Within this definition, there's still a huge range of characters you can call tricksters, and it's useful to categorize them across spectrums. One axis of a trickster is "effectiveness", which refers to the trickster's ability to effect change; this is 'incompetent to competent', 'foolish to canny', 'harmless to dangerous'. Another axis is "motivation" which refers to the trickster's ethical structure; this is 'good to evil', 'generous to selfish', 'just to unjust'. There's another kind of axis that's related to motivation, which I'll call "comprehensibility", and which refers to the trickster's transparency of motive; the range there is 'knowable to unknowable', 'familiar to alien', 'clear to mysterious'. If you wanted to chart them all I'd make effectiveness the horizontal x-axis, motivation the vertical y-axis, and comprehensibility the z-axis perpendicular to both of them, but this is starting to get into 'gesturing at the wall map with crazy eyes' territory and I'm mostly just going to be talking about effectiveness and motivation anyway, so let’s move on.

Tricksters can be foolish figures, always getting caught, often the butt of their own joke. That's our early impression of Mat- a prankster who never really seems to get away with anything, or a fool caught in a trap of his own making. Mat is also generous, insofar as he has apparently been rescuing people his whole life, plus he's very 'easy come, easy go' about money, and has a decent instinct for gift-giving, whether those are compliments or actual physical presents. He has a strong sense of justice that puts him at odds with people who have (unearned) privilege and who are abusing power, and he loves verbally trapping people into confronting their own hypocrisy.

He keeps these traits throughout the series, but he also develops ones on the opposite side of the axes. Stealing the Shadar Logoth dagger is the catalyst for Mat's development from 'harmless, benevolent trickster' to 'dangerous, morally complicated trickster'. It literally overwrites first his personality, and then his memories. While he gets the personality back- sort of- he never gets the memories back, and his quest to do so sets him on the rest of his path.

By the end of the series, Mat has undergone enormous trauma and developed a much stronger sense of self-preservation. He becomes a canny and multi-talented figure, a brilliant tactician and strategist, a dangerous enemy to have. He's most selfish and cruel when under the influence of the Shadar Logoth dagger, but it turns out he's also never been in the rescuing business for free, he wants to be needed and will get a little pissy if he isn't (although to his credit, he respects people's wishes if they say they don't want to be saved from themselves.)

His greed for adventure and shiny things was what got him into trouble with the dagger, and he never quite loses his appraiser's eye (or taste) for luxury goods. And Tuon is entirely right to name him 'Devastation' or 'Ruin'; he's constantly blowing things up, killing enormous amounts of people directly or by proxy, and while everyone in this series commits war crimes, he's got the dubious honor of having another character (Teslyn) actually say to his face, "You know you just did a war crime, right?"

Mat spends the early books- when he's in good enough health to do so, and has the opportunity- pursuing women, wine, and song, and I mention them all together because that's the vibe he's going for. Mat genuinely loves flirting and dancing for their own sake, as fun things to do with receptive people, and that extends to sexual activities as well. It's a joyful, generous, playful way of interacting, and Mat's joie de vivre seems to attract people with similar attitudes.

Yes, Mat sometimes puts his foot in his mouth, but he's not actually disrespectful of anyone else's agency, so he's doing better than the rest of the Two Rivers boys. He doesn't make assumptions about whether there will be a next interaction or not, or how far each interaction will go; each step is negotiated with input from both players, which makes it a kind of game. Mat doesn't have long-term relationships with these fun, playful people, but he's not looking for that, and neither are they.

The other kind of people Mat is attracted to are what I'll call 'dagger people', who are sharp (smart, competent, possibly literally an edged weapon), powerful, and existentially dangerous. It is *possible* that Mat might have acquired this taste without the Shadar Logoth dagger's influence. He likes battles, he likes adventure, he generally treats women as respected equals, he might have gotten to 'date a woman who can kick your ass' all on his own. But Mat loved that Shadar Logoth dagger, they had a whole entire fucked-up relationship, and when they broke up he got a bunch of rebound knives and also some sharp, powerful, and existentially dangerous people's memories shoved into his head. Like calls to like, blood feeds blood, etc.

And boy, does Mat find these ladies, or more accurately, boy, do these ladies find him. Case in point: Melindhra, the sexy darkfriend Maiden of the Spear. I think Aludra partially fits, too- sharp, confident if not powerful, dangerous (though not so much to him as like... the world.) Mat isn't pursuing or attracted to either Joline or Tylin, but they also fit this description, and they definitely pursued him. (I'd love to add Lanfear to the list of 'dangerous ladies who made passes at Mat' but I can't quite do it with a straight face.) I don't think Mat's thing for dagger people really reaches its full flower until he starts getting to know Tuon, though.

Mat spends much of the series looking for both his types, and tends to find either one or the other, but not both in one person- until Tuon. Like Mat, Tuon is actually both these types in a sometimes uneasy coexistence. For all their many differences, they think about each other much the same way. They both find each other very layered and confusing, but also are surprisingly quick to trust each other, which is striking in people who are very suspicious, in a fraught situation, and on opposite sides. I think most of the reason they trust each other is because they have the same very contractual personal honor system, where 'my word is my bond'. That's a trickster thing; tricksters have to keep some kind of rules, or how else will they play games and know whether they've won or lost? But their rules can be hidden or idiosyncratic (that's the z-axis, comprehensibility) as you see in 'bargains with the fae'-type situations. Personal honor is also a feature of royalty, though, where the personal and political are bound together, and a person's promises can be treated as legal contracts, as well as honor-based societies in general.

Mat and Tuon take their promises to each other very seriously, but are also always both looking for loopholes so they can get the upper hand. They also are both following the script of prophecy, which I mention because they both devote a lot of time to subverting their own expectations about how exactly that prophecy is going to play out. Mat buckles down and says “I’m going to make this come out in my favor somehow, even though it’s not what I wanted,” yet he’s still surprised at how and when Tuon completes the marriage ceremony; Tuon does not find Mat anything like she expected, and she also is surprised at her own feelings for him. Near the end of the series, they take a break from playing tricks and mind games on each other, and instead bluff everyone else on the battlefield, tag-teaming their trickster powers for one last surprise attack.

Ok, so how is Tuon Mat’s first type, playful, joyful, and generous? She loves playing games with Mat, both actual literal games like stones, but also their weird flirting/power plays. She's super competitive, because anyone who wasn't who was in her shoes would be dead, but she's a good sport, "satisfied when she wins and determined when she loses". She's also got "mischievous" smiles, and turns the tables on Mat in a super trickster-y way, writing the letter that puts everyone in the circus under her protection except for Mat and his crew; which means he and his coterie are still 'not safe' and thus he has to keep travelling with her rather than bringing her back to Ebou Dar right away, by the terms of their promise.

Mat gives us really lovely descriptions of her in moments of joy, and one of the first things we learn about her is that her genuine smile makes her look completely different from the normal Resting Bitch Face she affects for self-preservation reasons. She's generous in the sense that she's (often) willing to consider other points of view and give people second chances, when others in her position wouldn't and don't. She has the generosity of privilege, which I admit is not the most laudable form of generosity, but it's still a form of generosity. She also has a natural compassion and merciful impulses that have been trimmed and hemmed and twisted into only the forms her society deems socially acceptable, but they're still there.

I have less of a job to do proving that Tuon is a 'dagger person'. You remember how I joked about 'sharp' meaning 'literally an edged weapon'? Well, I don't know how else I'm supposed to interpret "Tuon’s right hand swept across, bladed like an axe, and struck [the footpad's] throat so hard that he heard the cartilage cracking". SHE'S LITERALLY A WEAPON. MAT HAS FINALLY FOUND A REPLACEMENT FOR HIS SEXY EVIL KNIFE. :') She's also super smart, super canny, and a snappy dresser to boot. She's one of the most powerful women in the world, and by the end of the series Mat is absolutely into it. (The bit where he's like "She's so good at giving orders! *heart eyes*" is simultaneously hilarious and alarming. I get it- I simp for Kuvira from Legend of Korra, I can't throw stones at anyone who’s like ‘hot evil Empress, please step on me’- but there's a time and a place, Mat.)

And, of course, she's an existential threat to the world, Mat's family and friends, and (theoretically) Mat himself. The Seanchan Empire, despite not being bigoted towards the Tinkers and having pretty good gender equality, is committing massive human rights violations left and right, thanks to the slavery, channelerphobia, and imperialism. As a tool of the Empire, unless he works on extricating himself, Mat's going to be culpable for that (he already is, really, but it could be worse), which is a stain on his soul that I don't think either he or the readers want. Being a tool of the Empire is an existential threat to Mat's idea of himself as an independent agent and good person, and I guess also an existential threat to his life since he's getting all those assassination attempts from his coworkers. (I am excluding Tuon from the assassination attempts; as I've mentioned in a previous essay, her threats to Mat are not serious and are in fact a form of deranged flirting.)

Tuon and Mat are both dual-axis tricksters, in their way. Tuon- or I should really be saying, Fortuona, Lady Luck- is more on the bringing order to chaos side, and Mat falls most characteristically on the bringing chaos to order end of things. But they switch roles- Mat shores up the proper order of things when he reminds Tuon to keep her promises, and Tuon is often a chaotic influence at court, with her mercy or willingness to change her mind. They also both understand what it's like to be both a person and an archetype- Mat worries about losing his individual choice and freedom by becoming a hero, and Tuon worries about becoming too vulnerable and individual to be the strong and impartial hand she thinks the Empire needs.

They've also both experienced their instincts and worldview being overwritten by external forces; for Tuon it's been happening since birth and she's almost entirely embraced the process; for Mat, it was the consequence of a choice he made and he fought it every step of the way. They have very different responses, but they've experienced weirdly similar 'erasure' experiences. And they both have good and evil impulses entwined in complicated ways. Tuon is a survivor and a monster; a preserver and a destroyer; a person and an empire. And Mat builds a relationship with her when- and because- he accepts that he is both a lover and a fighter; generous and thieving; a person and a weapon. You may not like it, but this is what peak narrative compatibility looks like.

[heckpup]

Hmmmmmm Time for the Part 2 of the Immortal Tommy AU I cooked up with my raw materials in the middle of the night

:DDDDDDDDD What fun. I have also now decided that Tommy's new wings are now phoenix style (cause he's immortal now, innit?), in flames, but only at the tips (so far, this will change the older he gets) and only if he wants them to be. Had he still been mortal, they probably would've been just a regular red, and so that is what they look like when they're not on fire.

Also, I'd like to imagine that the old worlds from when we were kids (with borders and that didn't go on forever and just stopped and dropped off into the void, right? I know me and my friends loved to find the corners and try to go through. Good times.) are what the god's personal realms are like. Not enough room for rebellion, since there's not enough room to run from an angry god/goddess. If you go to the edge, you can look at/travel to other worlds as well. Most gods don't bring other people into their worlds anyway, but *shrugs*

Edit: (I can't believe I forgot this I'm so sorry ;-;) TW:Mentions of bl00d, Mention of de@th, mentions of m@n!pulat!0n and g@sl!ght!ng, mentions of t0rture.

Just thought I should mention + explain.

~

"Hey Clara?" Tommy asks from a small tree, letting his feathers move gently in the wind.

"Yes, Tommy?" Clara calls from below, looking up at the young immortal. Tommy glides down to meet her on the ground, and he looks up at her a little sheepishly.

"Do you think that since, well, you know, I'm recovered and shit, I could visit those bitches from the SMP? I kinda just want to, uh, blow up at them, sorta. I just- its a lot of untapped rage and I really just wanna scream at 'em, you know? It's totally ok if you think I shouldn't I mean, you are the biggest man- er, woman- here, just wanted to ask, but uh-"

"Tommy." Clara cuts him off with a small smile, and a bit of mischief and malice (And anger, as well) twinkling in her dark eyes. "I think that's a wonderful idea. Besides," She begins to walk over to the edge of their small world, "they need to understand what they did, and its never good for us immortals to hold grudges over mortals. Could cause some unplanned problems in the far future."

Tommy beams, and Clara begins mentally preparing for the showdown with glee. "Tommy, how do you want to do it?" She asks, inner drama queen squealing.

"Well-" Tommy tells her- "-I really want it to be big and dramtic, you know? Like lightning and thunder, and like things bursting into flame and shit. I could probably do the flames myself, but do you think-" He looks up at her expectantly.

"Of course!" She says, patting his shoulder. "A storm fit for a god. It would be only fitting, of course. I am going to come along, of course. Just in case there are any unexpected developments, like more dramatic effect."

Tommy nods. "Yeah! Those bitches aren't gonna know what hit them! But, do you think you could stay invisible 'n shit for it? I still wanna do this by myself. I don't-" He cuts himself off, feathers ruffling. "I wanna yell and bitch about it, and I want to do this on my own. Like an important milestone on my recovery." Clara nods in agreement.

"Right, right. For the lightning though, is there any houses you want to keep out of harms way? I plan on hitting a lot of houses, just to get people up and moving."

Tommy thinks for a minute. "Uh, maybe hit close to Ranboo's house- he's the black and white hybrid, he's always been pretty nice to me- and Sam and Puffy and BadBoyHalo. Sam put Dream in prison a while ago, and Puffy and BBH gave me some gifts the night before you picked me up. So, they're clear from property damage, but I still want to see them. Defintely break Dream out, I want to yell at him though. Wait, maybe I can break him out, like teleport him away from the prison and show off my new powers and shit- anyway, maybe save Niki as well, she was always nice."

Clara nods and begins to locate the small world that she pulled Tommy from so many years ago. "Goodness!" She laughs. "It's been a while since you looked down at this one, isn't it?"

"Yeah, haven't had much time to think shit about those old bitches." Tommy begins to search with her, quickly locating the small SMP, being recently cleared of the red bloodvines that had plagued it for a while.

While they plan, they laugh, and Clara is reminded of how far the young godling had been when she whisked him away. His old SMP hadn't deserved him, not even for a second.

~

Tommy and Clara were watching from the clouds as the little people in the SMP ran around panicked about the storm that was destroying a lot of their houses. Tommy watched with glee and satisfaction as the majority of the SMP (save for Dream, of course) gathered in the newly rebuilt community house to discuss the looming problem.

"Dream has to be behind this, Sam!" Fundy growled out. "He's the only one that has this kind of power!"

"You ready?" Clara asked Tommy, after waiting for him to be perfectly positioned under one of the next lightning bolts, aimed at one of the doorways to the community house. Tommy nodded and lit the tips of his wings, prepared for the force of the bolt to push him back down to the earth.

The lightning hit, and Tommy found himself being thrown down and pushed to the ground.

The first thing he noticed was that the bolt left little sparks over his body and his wings were a little more lit up than usual.

The second thing he noticed was that everyone in the community house was looking at him.

He stood up and, with a great amount of false confidence, strode into the room. Tubbo was staring slack-jawed, as were most people in the building. Phil's face was incredibly pale, to the point that Tommy actually began to worry about the man's health. Ranboo looked at him wide-eyed, but then Tommy saw recognition flash and a smile began to creep onto his face.

But the person that Tommy had his eyes on the most was the no-longer transparent form of his elder brother, well and alive again.

"What's up, bitches?" Tommy grinned, and suddenly the room was alive with shouts and yelling and holy Prime, Tommy probably should have prepared more for this reaction but he hadn't even known Wilbur was alive but oh, Phil's yelling about how Tommy left him and-

"Tommy, how could you? You've been off to who knows where? Where the fuck have you been? How could you leave us?" Phil's void-black wings ruffled, and Tommy didn't even think before responding,

"I've been off healing, bitch! You know, from all the trauma you adults forced on me? And the gaslighting from Dream? The manipulation? It took me years to get over that shit, and the god's world-time runs slow! I spent a whole fucking year trying to understand that what you bitches put me through was fucking wrong, and I was not alright! I left you all here because you left me when I was at my fucking WORST! YOU LET A SIXTEEN YEAR-OLD FIGHT IN FUCKING WARS AND GET EXILED! YOU EXPECTED ME TO TAKE THAT SHIT LIKE A FUCKING ADULT? FUCK NO!" Tommy's wings flared out and he could feel the heat radiating off of it, his flames responding to his anger.

"Thomas Minecraft-Innit, I am your father, how dare you-"

"Oh, you're my father now? Now, after you abandoned me, neglected me, left me in the dust? You cared more about your fucking war buddy than your own two sons! Wilbur was more of a father than you were, and then you fucking killed him!"

"Tommy-" Tubbo tried to interject.

"AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON YOU TUBBO! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID? YOU LEFT ME AS WELL, YOU LEFT ME WITH FUCKING DREAM! YOU EXILED ME, AND FOR FUCKING WHAT? A SAD POSITION IN A COUNTRY THAT YOU LET DREAM PUPPETEER ANYWAY! WE FOUGHT THAT WAR TO GET AWAY FROM DREAM, AND THEN YOU FUCKING LET HIM RIGHT BACK IN!" Tommy raged, turing on his ex-best friend. "Oh, speaking of-" He snapped his fingers and then Dream was in the room with them, wearing an orange jumpsuit and looking around wildly.

The room let out a great outburst, which, to be fair, was expected.

But then Dream took one look at Tommy and decided that it was a-fucking-okay to try and re-manipulate Tommy again. As if he didn't notice that Tommy was much older, much more healed and much more powerful than before. (Or that could just be him. Clara did tell him that gods- and even godlings- could change their age and appearance, and sometimes it was involuntary and depended on emotions and metal stability. Tommy did actually feel much younger. Maybe it was from being in this place, this world, and being in front of the person that hurt him most. That would make sense.)

"Tommy!" Dream cried with unusual glee. "You're here to help me, aren't you? You finally came to your senses about your best friend, right?" Tommy only raised an eyebrow in response, not giving him an answer. "What, not going to give an answer to your only friend? Tommy, I stayed with you, I kept you company when no one else did, remember?" Prime, how long did Dream think he had been in that prison for?

Tommy only shrugged and then pulled out a sword and dashed up to Dream, keeping the blade on Dream's throat. "You mother fucker. You are the biggest bitch boy I've ever, and I mean ever, had the pleasure of knowing, bitch boy. You are the absolute worst thing to ever happen to me, you know that? You killed me twice, and for what? Gratification of knowing you killed a teenager? And then you tried to gaslight me, manipulate me into doing your sick shit for you? That's the most fucked up thing I've ever known, Dream. I'm going to enjoy taking this life from you." And then he swung, embedding the blade into the wall behind where Dream's body had once been.

TommyInnit killed Dream with [A Final Blow]

Dream made the achievement [Banned?]

"Tommy what-" Tommy turned to look at Technoblade, who was looking blankly at his chatlog.

"Oh, don't worry too much about him. He'll just be stuck for a few days in the ban-void, and then he'll come back on his own." A great number of people paled, knowing the ban void, when you were still on a world, meant that you were subjected to great amounts of agony as your body tore itself apart and tried to pull its code back together. And Tommy had just taken one of Dream's lives, too!

"Tommy, what happened to you?" Phil asked, horrified.

"I grew up," Tommy said with a smile. "And now I have the rest of time to spend continuing to grow and live. Becuase now, Tommy Innit never dies."

Techno rushed at him suddenly, axe swinging. It caught the edge of Tomm'y neck, and Tommy took the chance to grab Techno by the scruff on his, and lift him up, also while feeling his body grow older. Several gasps were heard around the room at the sudden change. "What were you trying to do there, Technoblade? You can't kill a god." And then he let Techno drop to the ground, before touching the part of his neck Techno had sliced.

His hand drew away with golden ichor.

[freezing82]

Betty hurt Jughead in the worst way for him, by cheating. That makes someone question every single moment they ever had with the other person. It wasn’t even Betty’s first offense against him with Archie, so I think he had to break free from her. Also Cora just says the story was sexy to sleep with Jughead so he’d give her work to his agent. She was being duplicitous, which is why jug was so hurt when she revealed that.

Hi anon! Is this ask related to my latest post or is a general ask? Anyway, I don't think Jughead started questioning their whole relationship because of the kiss. You start having doubts when you sense some kind of 'intentionality' in the act itself. I want to believe that Betty didn't want to hurt Jughead intentionally, otherwise she is indeed a duplicitous bitch and she deserved the voicemail. I don't think this was what the authors had in mind. Betty was emotionally worked up, had just had a fight with Jughead and Archie was there. It was wrong and her biggest fault is not telling the truth to Jug right after.

Betty has kissed Archie twice when she was deeply upset (the Black Hood threatening her loved ones and the fight with Jughead in the bunker). In the bunker, she could have had sex with Archie, if she really wanted to, but they didn't. She was clear about her feelings towards Jughead. I wish the wirters would eventually get over this love-triangle trope because it's getting old and boring.

The fact is that Betty, unfortunately, has the habit of not being honest right away. That's what hurt Jughead the most. If he never asked about Archie and Veronica being weird at prom, she probably would never tell him about the kiss. Same thing happened when she kissed Archie in S2 and she chose not to tell him when he confessed about Toni. This is the big difference between Betty and Jughead. He's very transparent and honest to the bone. Also, I don't think Jug wanted to break up with her, indefinitely, at the end of S4. They just needed time to process everything but since Betty left town a few days later, they never had the chance to do so. They both said they loved each other, and I think that was very true. Cora is another story. I know she charmed her way into his pants so that she could give him her manuscript. I'll tell you what: if those debt collectors never showed up, the whole situation would have unfolded very differently. She technically blackmailed him. But the point is that he wrote a book, including their lovestory. You don't write a lovestory between two characters who are obviously inspired by your ex-girlfriend and yourself if you hate her. He still has feelings for Betty.

Nobody will make me believe otherwise. PS: Archie has ZERO self-control, anyway. He kissed like every female character on the show, apart from Ethel and Melody, I think. Oh, and Miss Bell. LOL

[whumperooni]

I'd love to be mutuals with you but now really sure how to approach you off-anon.

I've been holding off on answering this one because I'm not quite sure how to respond without coming off as rude or bitchy or grouchy or stuck up or just straight up ridiculous

So pretty please take this as a general answer for everyone wanting to be moots and not just you, okay? I promise it's nothing personal (specially since you're a nonny and idk who you are anyways)

tldr; I'm a bad moot and if you wanna be a moot it has to happen naturally

But

I'm a terrible mutual, tbh. My online presence is flaky at best and I rarely look at my dash. I'm happy to chat with my moots if they reach out and I'm happy to interact with them...but I don't really approach them and I go through long periods of time where I miss their content because a) I'm too busy to be on tumblr, b) my fixations have shifted and I don't wanna interact with stuff that's not centered on them, c) I'm feeling particularly tired and/or angry and I'm off tumblr because I know I'm going to lose my temper and lash out at someone.

I try to be nice to people and I try to keep an open mind and I really try to let people do their own thing even if it bothers me. But the thing is?

I'm not a super nice person. I have a minimal tolerance for bullshit and I have a problem with general fandom fuckery. (Like across all fandoms- not just here)

I get angry at fandom and I get angry at my dash and I get angry at myself and, honestly, my presence in fandom is more like a stray cat that wanders in when they're bored or hungry and leaves when I grow bored or irritated by whatever drama is going on that day. I'm selfish and standoffish and, honestly, jealous of a lot of things and people too.

They're not awesome qualities to have in a moot. They're not awesome qualities to have as a person. I try my best to maintain a more positive vibe but, really, it's not always strictly genuine.

And the thing is? It gets tiring trying to pretend that I'm not rolling my eyes at every post on my dash. I'm too old and tired to pretend to like people that get on my nerves. I don't follow those people. I try not to interact with them. I blacklist their tags and I'll block them if they really get under my skin.

I monitor my circle and I do it in a way that's strictly selfish. I refuse to follow someone who sends me into a rant every other day and I'll absolutely dump a mutual if seeing their posts starts to get under my skin. I've done that before and, honestly, it hurt to do that because I did enjoy their content a lot and I thought that we could actually be good friends....I just didn't enjoy them or entertain those daydreams anymore once they decided to dump me like a hot potato.

I've been on all the sides of being a moot- bestie moots, enemies to friends to moots and back to enemies, casual headcanon exchanging moots, the moot that's been dropped because the other found more popular friends + more clout, and the moot that's dropped the other because they started shit talking about things that are Extremely Personal to me and I wasn't about to deal with that.

It sucks being a moot with someone only to find out they've dumped you. And, honestly? That's a veryyyyyyyyy likely possibility when it comes to being moots with me? Which I hate because people don't deserve that and hurt feelings suck and I don't want to upset anyone if I don't have to. But the thing is? I have to monitor my experience on tumblr or I will spiral and become miserable and nuke my chances of being welcome in fandom during an inevitable, public meltdown.

And that means....well that means that things just have to happen naturally?

(God, I'm so sorry I'm rambling but I'm trying so hard to explain myself)

Like. If you come to me and you're like "I wanna be mutuals with you. I wanna be friends" then I'm going to recoil- especially if we've never interacted before. For one, something like that is supremely uncomfortable to me. How can I say no without coming off as a bitch? It feels like a trap- even if it isn't, even if it's purely just enthusiastic and sincere- and I'm a prickly, hermetic person by nature who literally talks to one person irl on a daily basis...who also happens to live with me and is my boyfriend.

I don't seek out friends. I don't seek out relationships. I don't try to make something happen when it comes to people? It just...idk man I have to let it happen naturally or eventually it's gonna blow up in my face because I will feel restless and trapped and resentful. (Even if you literally do nothing wrong. Please understand that I'm a kinda shitty person, I work two jobs and I'm always stressed, and I'm bipolar and unmedicated. Please understand that I try and I'm not using these as excuses but just stating facts- my mental and emotional state are often shit and I lash out at people once my stress becomes too much...which is often these days. That this has happened to me before and I know myself and I'm trying to be truthful and not set up any rosy expectations just to disappoint anyone)

Like...if you still wanna be a moot, all I can say is to just...interact with me? Maybe I'll check out your blog and vibe with what I see????

But there are layers and layers of why I'm Not a good moot and there are layers and layers of reasons I'm not going to follow just anybody just because I'm asked.

I...I don't know. I don't know how to end this and I don't know if this makes any sense at all or if it's too much explanation or not but...

Just...don't have any expectations when it comes to me. I'm making no promises to anyone and I'm trying to be transparent.

I won't be mutuals with someone just because they want me to be. It's gotta happen naturally or it won't happen at all.

And I am sincerely sorry if it causes hurt feelings or if it comes off as rude or mean or bitchy or something. Rejection fucking sucks, you know?

But I have to look out for my mental and emotional health and, unfortunately, that means setting boundaries and limits and monitoring my experience very carefully.

So...yeah.

I'm sorry. I know this is probably super unsatisfying and I'm deeply apologetic over it.

But...yeah. That's that and I'm going to shut up now.

(Sorry)

[lovelyirony]

Could I get number 30 "Why is arson always your first answer?" With winteriron?

England wasn’t necessarily Tony’s favorite place to be. For one thing, Pepper always asked for some sort of collection of Burberry scarves, and Tony would rather die than step foot in a store, but Pepper is the one who makes sure he gets out of countries and into countries as discreetly as possible. 

For another, England usually means either expensive art or expensive jewelry, and art is a bitch to get out of an event if you haven’t worked up a back story for the last year, and jewelry is...well. People are bound to notice if it’s famous enough. 

This go-round, it’s art. A rare miniature of a high-society woman, someone Tony doesn’t at all care about. He has a buyer from the middle of nowhere Montana, and he’s not sure why a cowboy from Montana cares about this so much, but he offered a pretty steep salary for Tony, so here he is. 

The thing is this: Tony Stark is not known as a thief. No. He is known as a reclusive billionaire who only comes out of his house, like, once a year to mourn his parents. 

Except he doesn’t do that, that’s just the yearly walk that he lets them notice and take pictures of. 

Anthony Carbonell is known as an elusive thief who likes to make fun of every single agent of any organization that attempts to track him or the works that he’s stolen. It’s cute, honestly. 

Agent James Barnes is the newest hire at SHIELD Protection, which moonlights as an insurance agency. 

His newest job is one that no one else has managed to complete: capture Anthony Carbonell, and protect the newest artwork. 

It’s sending him to England. He has to wear a suit and everything, and he’s not exactly excited about it. 

All they know is that he’s dark-haired, is shorter than six feet, and has a penchant for playing practical jokes on the agents when they end up not capturing him. 

- 

Barnes touches down in England, follows one of their British agents to a safe-house, and gets out the tuxedo. 

God help this night. 

- 

Tony usually isn’t thrown for a loop when it comes to guests at high society auctions. Most everyone is publicly known, or at least known when they should be known. 

There’s a new man in town. 

Tony can’t deny that he has the nicest looks he’s ever seen. A jaw that won’t quit, eyes that seem to observe everything, and a tasteful bun drawn at the back of his head. He also fills out a tuxedo quite nicely. 

Something about him screams danger. Tony smiles to himself in his cocktail; he’ll keep his eyes on that man, so far as everything goes to plan. 

- 

Bucky can feel eyes on him, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s technically new to all of this, or if it’s because Anthony is here and he already knows. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew as soon as he walked in that Anthony would be here, and he would be aware. But he’s not really going to focus on the people milling about. He sticks close to the miniature, observing the security measures. 

Or lack of. 

The security measures are barely there. If Bucky could cause a distraction in the room, or maybe pull a fire alarm, he could easily abscond with it. 

He assumes that’s why the band is in another room. He had read the reports that Clint had managed to nick; the band was supposed to be playing in the room, but an anonymous guest had suggested that the acoustics were better in a room adjacent. 

He’s pretty sure that Anthony had recommended that, wherever he was. It’s not like any of the rich people would have had common sense enough to call ahead and ask about the placement of the band, and take into account the arch of the room with the acoustics of a violin. 

It’s smart, honestly. Everyone is dancing, they want to notice what other people are wearing so that they can either discreetly copy them later or make a laughing stock of them in about six minutes, give or take, and no one will notice if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place slips out. 

He’s not exactly wrong. 

But Tony has been working for an exclusive catering company for two months. Very fun stuff. He learned that he will never want to eat another crab cake again, and he learned how to improvise descriptions for food that is essentially chicken fingers and ketchup. 

Barnes is looking for someone who looks like they fit in. And Tony does, just...not in the way that he actually knows how to do. 

If he was high society, he’d be recognized immediately; everyone still knows how Howard smiled, how Maria moved around the room with the practiced grace of someone raised to be a fun little accessory on your arm. 

Tony has both of those attributes, and if people actually noticed others, they would clock him easily. 

-

He got bold. 

Too bold. 

He was serving appetizers, and he offers one to the new guy on the block. 

“Care for one?” he asks, eyes timidly looking up, energy nervous. 

“Thank you,” New Guy says, and he looks at Tony directly in the eyes. “I appreciate it.” 

No one thanks you at events like these. 

And no one looks at you. 

This was the mistake. 

-

His features are umistakable, Bucky decides. The way his head tilted when he offered the food, the way his eyes look at his, and they’re not used to being looked back at. 

It almost fooled him. Almost. 

But most who work for the upper class learn early on from someone or another that you don’t look, even if you know that they won’t spare you the time of day. 

He’s tempting the odds, and he’s exactly the kind of person who would do it. 

Bucky has Anthony Carbonell’s face memorized, from the surprisingly warm brown eyes to the way he walks away. 

- 

Tony has blown this mission. He knows it. He fucking knows that SHIELD knows who he is right now. 

He texts Pepper, incorrect grammar and everything: 

tell guy job is over. i can refund him for inconvenience. 

what do you mean, over? 

been had. :( 

i don’t like that that’s your reaction. but get out of there, whatever means necessary. i can’t get you out of there until tomorrow morning, or i lose the deposit on your room . 

srsly??????? 

yes, seriously. the woman who let us rent it was very specific about two-day-stay. in the mean time, maybe grab a bottle of wine or something. how are you going to escape? 

well...

don’t you dare

-

Arson is an art that has to be carefully done, if you were wondering. You can just decide to do it, but you need to have some experience for it. 

Tony has. Kind of. 

He has a matchbook from a local hotel that he went into, and it’s been tucked into a pocket of his pants, and he is currently debating if he can actually finish the job or not. 

“Is arson always your first answer?” 

Shit. 

“Uh, smoke break?” Tony asks, knowing that it’s a Very Stupid Excuse because he doesn’t have any cigarettes. 

“Be real with yourself,” Barnes says. “You also have a very unfortunate British accent, as in it sounds terrible.” 

“My apologies if I didn’t work on it,” Tony says. “I’ve been too busy with...other things. Speaking of which, you’re new to SHIELD, aren’t you?” 

“You’re my first mission.” 

“How unfortunate.” 

“And why is that?” 

Tony smiles at him, and it’s disarming how genuine it looks. How genuine it is. (Bucky’s been able to spot a fake smile since he was seven and his mother let Mormons into their house. He knows a lot of things.) 

“Well, darling dearest, I’m going to make my escape.” 

“And you’re saying I can’t find you?” 

“Oh, you’ll find me. You’ll see me everywhere.” 

Tony then proceeds to kiss the ever-living hell out of Barnes. 

It is probably the best kiss of his life, honestly. 

And it leaves him dazed. 

Dazed enough that Tony only has a light jogging-pace as he makes his escape, stealing one of the various Rolls Royce cars that is parked underneath a brilliantly-lit lamp. 

- 

Bucky keeps thinking about that line, about seeing him everywhere. 

He doesn’t know what it means. He describes Anthony Carbonell to a sketch artist, they ask around, and then there’s Friday. 

Friday. 

It’s the day everything becomes clearer and yet infinitely more complicated, because Anthony was right. 

Tony Stark is dedicated to a more “transparent’ image for his company. He’s stepped into the limelight, and all the attention is on him. Everyone in the world is stalking his every move. 

It’s smart. Bold and risky if any former clients have seen his face, although Bucky has no doubt that he has enough money to make sure they go away quietly. 

It means that he can’t be touched. For at least one year, maybe two. 

God, it’s smart. Be so well-known that even the secret agencies would be found if they even attempted to reach you. 

- 

Pepper thinks Tony is God’s Given Idiot. 

Arson probably would have been the better choice. It’s not like the building didn’t have insurance, and it’s not like the fire would have lasted for that long. 

Instead, Tony has decided to make himself internationally known and request a meeting with the guy who could have ended his career, and still could if he talked to the right people. 

-

Sam thinks knows that Bucky is God’s Given Idiot. 

He agrees to the fucking meeting. 

It’s a well-known, public restaurant. It means that Barnes is going to be well-known, or at least photographed from an angle that’s unflattering. 

He should’ve debated, should have fought for a secluded place, or at least somewhere on their turf. God, that would’ve been an iota smarter. 

- 

They both sit down. Peruse a menu that neither are interested in. 

Bucky is wondering what the procedure is on leftovers. And if he’s paying for his own bill in this. He was invited, but with everything going on, he’s not sure. 

Tony sits across from him. Tony, with a now-distinctive goatee, an easy elegance, and a satisfied look in his eyes. 

“You amaze me, James.” 

“Bucky.” 

“I refuse to call you that out of respect for humanity.” 

“I don’t answer to James.” 

“Then what about another nickname, hm?” Tony asks. 

“Like what?” 

“Take your pick. You could be honey, darling, or love. Or something more creative, although if it’s kinky, I’d like it in writing before I refer to you in public with that, so-” 

“James is fine.” 

“Knew it would be,” Tony says smugly. “So. Let’s talk about the fact that you know my dirty little secret.” 

“I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, would you?” 

“It’s a hobby.” 

“Rich people steal shit as a hobby?” 

“Usually not with my methods, but yes,” Tony says. “They usually do it with the careful guidance of the IRS or some shit.” 

Bucky does a little laugh at that one. 

Their waiter comes out, jovially asks how their day is going. 

“Oh it’s going magnificently,” Tony says, peering up through violet-tinted glasses. “How is yours...Lincoln?” 

“Brilliant,” Lincoln responds with a large smile. “What can I get you to drink? Our seasonal cocktail is to die for, and if you’re not in the mood for a cocktail, the cider is simply divine...” 

It’s mundane conversation. 

Tony Stark is a thief who goes by (went by?) Anthony Carbonell, and he’s listening to Lincoln the Waiter talk about seasonal drinks and desserts. 

It’s kind of...grounding. Also odd. 

“And for you?” 

Bucky fumbles with the menu. 

“Uh...water? With lemon?” 

“Refreshingly good choice,” Lincoln says, grinning. “I’ll be right back with those, you two catch up on whatever you need to catch up.” 

Bucky nods, turning to Tony with an eyebrow raised. 

“So, what do we need to catch up on?” 

“Well for one, you need to use my name. It’s Tony, and I’m betting it sounds heavenly coming from you.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction. 

“Alright. Tony. What do you need to talk about?” 

“Keeping our little secret a secret.” 

“I’ve already told others about you.” 

“Who?” Tony asks sharply. 

Lincoln comes back with their drinks, asks if they need more time to decide. 

Bucky just goes for it and orders a plate of mini quiche-things that he’s not exactly sure he’ll like. Tony orders something with a perfect accent, because of course he does. 

“You do this often?” 

“Go out to eat? On special occasions, and every other Friday.” 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony says, unfolding his napkin. “But I...have a deal for you.” 

“And why should I take it?” 

“Because it’s going to benefit SHIELD in the long-run,” Tony says. “And they’re all about benefits, if the rumors hold up against them.”

“And what rumors have you heard?” 

“I’ve heard plenty, although I seem to recall one about a flooded pipeline and a Broadway performance being improvised.” 

Bucky shakes his head. 

“Not true? Damn...” 

Tony looks around the restaurant before his eyes meet with the captivating ones across the table. 

“I have a secret identity. So do you.” 

“And we’re against each other, aren’t we?” 

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “I essentially steal shit because it’s either random or has a purpose.” 

“And the miniature job you pulled was what, part of a scheme?” 

“Hell no,” Tony says. “A farmer in Montana wanted to see if I could do it because the face vaguely reminded him of his great-grandmother. I also, as a principle, try to steal as much shit from England as possible.” 

That’s funny, so he laughs. 

“And what do you want from me?” Bucky asks. 

“Oh my darling dearest, I want a lot of things from you,” Tony leers. “I only want one thing from SHIELD. I want them to keep my identity secret without any strings attached.” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” 

“Well, it is what it is,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna get you what you want, but I think you knew that. That’s why I’m out here dining with you, and I’ll be in the magazines for what, about a week?” 

“And notoriety for all time,” Tony says. “Your face is known, or at least on the internet. You should be prepared for people to ask you to model, by the way. God knows that you could kill it on the runway.” 

Bucky is amused. 

“Aw, you think?” 

“Of course I do. No one is gifted with that amount of shock in their eyes and goes on life being normal.” 

“My, how flattering you are,” Bucky says. 

Lincoln brings their food. Tells them that they can take their time, but there’s the bill. 

“You know who I need to talk to,” Tony says. 

“Maybe I do,” Bucky answers, evasive as possible. 

“I know you got hired for skills, but if it was for lying, then this is child’s play,” Tony says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“It wasn’t for lying. It was because if I was about two hundred feet away, I could shoot your right pupil out and you wouldn’t even know.” 

“You think I don’t have my own tech encircling the city?” 

“No,” Bucky answers. 

Tony stops sipping on his cider. 

“Explain yourself, blue-eyed wonder.” 

"Because if you’re found out, it destroys every single reputation you’re going to have to build from the start, and the climb to the top is too delicate for that.” 

Tony sits back. 

“I’m impressed.” 

“Don’t be,” Bucky says. “But you’re going to want to meet my boss. I’ll take you to him some time this week, if you need. Or he can meet you.” 

“I doubt he’ll be able to.” 

- 

Okay so maybe Tony shouldn’t have said that, because there is a man with an eye-patch and a truly impressive trench-coat sitting in his office chair. 

“If that’s supposed to be an intimidation tactic, that’s what I learned for my ninth birthday with dear ole’ dad,” Tony says. “Literally none of them work on me.” 

“Then change your ‘visitor’ chairs, they’re damn uncomfortable,” the man says. “My name is Director Fury.” 

“Any first name?” 

“None that you need to know. Barnes told me that you wanted to talk to me about a deal.” 

“I don’t do deals.” 

“And yet you run a business.” 

“Noted,” Tony says, leaning on the window. “So. I want to keep doing what I do, and I want you guys to butt out of it.” 

“And why would we do that?” 

“Because it’s technically only making rich people sad,” Tony says. “And the occasional museum, but oh well. And, I can easily make your life worse.” 

“You think I haven’t been threatened before?” 

“Oh I know you have, what with your sparkling personality and charm,” Tony says. “But I’m threatening the whole of SHIELD. I have been in the dark for a long time, Fury, and as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t know half of what I can do. 

The only thing people really know is that I’m a genius and so was my father, but nothing else. Neat, isn’t it?” 

Fury doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“What’s your deal?” 

“Glad to know you know what I can do for you,” Tony says. “I can provide security and make sure that every single person has the latest technological updates. I have one stipulation: I get to make Barnes a new arm.” 

“That’s your only condition?” 

“Oh, you’ll be grateful it’s the only thing I’m asking for,” Tony says. “Believe me, I’ll still be annoying. I can promise you that.” 

Fury looks at him carefully. Tony Stark is still a mystery, although he seems to overestimate himself. Or how much Fury can actually see about people. 

“Why Barnes’ arm?” 

“Why not?” Tony asks. “After all, he deserves an arm that looks as nice as he does.” 

“No in-work relationships.” 

“Consider me not an employee,” Tony says. 

“Then you’re not on the payroll.” 

“I don’t have to be paid to get what I want to get,” he remarks. 

Fury gets up from the chair (he’ll make a note to Maria: he needs something like it soon) and gives Tony a pointed look at the doorway. 

“You sure about this?” 

Tony’s eyes gleam. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” 

- 

Director Fury is not ready. Tony shows up in floral-printed shirts and makes sure to blast rock music wherever he goes, or worse, metal. 

Barnes has never had a good poker face, which is why he’s the sharpshooter. Damned man turns to goo whenever the billionaire struts onto their property. 

But he’s happy about his office chair. 

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep���” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?���

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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[godesssiri]

I need to have a bitch about my cousin B and her utter lack of imagination or design sense. The fact she’s a shitty person who has alienated practically everyone who loves her, and she is a selfish and completely transparent user, just means I feel no guilt about bitching about her inadequacy. Because I love imagination and design, her complete dearth of either feels like insult added to the injury of her general shitty-personhood.

She bought my childhood home. She always talked about ‘when she had her own home’ and she had all these big dreams but it became apparent when she moved in that she had no skills because she just painted all the walls white. Not even a nice white, just stark I-have-no-idea-what-an-undertone-is-or-how-it-can-change-the-whole-feel-of-a-space-white. It’s a character home with a lot of original woodwork that has been fully restored by my step-dad, she left the woodwork as is and it’s the only design element in the whole place. Her best friend K loves design and has a house a very similar age and style and her place is gorgeous, yes she has a lot of white but it’s white-used-as-a-backdrop-for-fun-quirky-design-features so it adds to the design instead of being just - there. I know B’s exact thought process “If I paint my house white it will look as good as K’s” except K carefully chose her white to compliment the original features of her house and to set off the design features she bought in and B totally failed to even consider the original features let lone bring in any other design features (except some black and white family photos and some Live Laugh Love-esque signs - yup she’s that cliché).

Now she’s painted the outside - you guessed it - white. K’s house is black with white trim and a red roof and it looks awesome. I know B didn’t have the balls to paint her house black so she’s gone white and done the trim in black so she can feel daring. Except the white with black trim makes a charming 1933 bungalow look like one of those 80s faux Elizabethan monstrosities.  And she’s again gone for stark white and pure black completely not taking into account the existing brown tiled roof - it looks like dogs balls. I’d have gone for a shade I had my front door painted once, it was a brown with a dash of grey in it and so dark it looked charcoal, choose a white with a brown undertone and it would have been acceptable - boring but acceptable. The fence is still painted the same as the old house color which was a very early-00s tan/beige and it looks awful - they have no plans to paint, or even better replace, the crappy old wood-framed chainlink fence that’s about 10 years past it’s use-by date.

It’s just frustrating because it once was a very pretty house and now it’s just blah. She’s also gutted and re-configured the addition at the back but I’m withholding judgement because it’s not finished - but I’m sure there’ll be plenty to judge.

On the plus side the back end of the house (containing the new kitchen and laundry) is not finished and her brother (who has been her builder up to this point) is refusing to go back. He’s completed all the structural work and he’s absolutely done with her. She and her equally awful partner have been so horrible he’s not going to install the kitchen. She’s got an empty shell and will have to pay someone and twice the rate she was paying her brother if she wants to be able to cook or wash clothes in her own home.

Mwahaha

[transsexualhamlet]

the many sins of tokyo ghoul :re

or: 13 reasons why :re is fucking terrible not clickbait

Disclaimer: I think no matter how long this post gets I’m missing something, so let’s just outline the worst ones. And I mean to be transparent, the only reason I actually read :re was so I could make this post... (and bc i wanted to see the what, five panels of hide) Well, I couldn’t stand hating it without evidence beyond hearsay and General Vibes. But I knew it was gonna be bad, I knew it was going to ruin me jesus christ. Obviously I’m not hating on people that like it, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with genuinely enjoying it (I do genuinely enjoy parts of it, and by parts i mean chapters 1-50 with exceptions and 75) I think it’s wonderful if you can derive joy from it (lmao) but I can say that through my lens in life, there’s so much fucking wrong with this goddamn fucking piece of shit manga and I feel the need to yell about it because i am ✨autism✨ so let’s get going (this is r e a l l y long just a warning)

tl;dr Ishida stay in your fucking lane

1. Transphobia and Homophobia:

alright here we are first off with the big one and if I had to choose, one of Ishida’s greatest sins here. It’s quite unusual in mangas like these to have any sort of representation for such things in and of itself, and yeah of course that annoys me, but having no represntation at all is like so much better than getting actively harmful representation. Most manga that aren’t specifically about those things shy away from those topics, and it’s tiring but it’s normal. You wouldn’t want a mangaka to try to write about something like that without experience or informed opinions. So I say if you can’t write something correct, just don’t write something like that in at all. Ishida clearly,,, does not get this.

And it’s not just the case of Mutsuki, who, well, gets it bad enough, there are three full fucking trans characters Ishida made like, just to shit on. 

Big Madame- god, made like that specifically to perpetuate the predatory trans woman trope jesus christ is Ishida friends with JK fuckface Rowling. Ah yes the ugly, human trafficking, predatory, pedophilic killer that tried to make their male child more feminine? Has a dick. Really? Could you be a single bit more transparent about your fucking agenda here? I really don’t have to say much here.

Kanae von Fuckwald- Technically Ishida says here that basically this bitch was just like??? Pretending to be a guy for years just to what?? I don’t even know?? Get together with Tsukiyama? Cause he’s fucking gay or something? I don’t even get it but like i read this post yesterday and that’s a whole ass thermian argument. It’s like “oh well this is fine because well this person’s not actually trans and therefore the representation thing doesn’t apply”... it’s useless. You created the character that way and you made it intentionally to for whatever way promote this idea that people would “pretend” to be a different gender and that eventually they’ll realize that it’s a “lie” and they never really wanted it. This is what you’re saying about the real people who are,,, actually trans? Jesus christ. Also thinking that a twink like that would be trans? God yeah trans guys can be feminine but buddy that’s clearly not what you’re going for here.

And of course, Mutsuki- There’s just... so much wrong here. I mean like. Before we even get into anything about his character and what they did to him let me just discuss his entire design. Buddy like if you had to choose one person in that show to be trans that’s the least likely one. Ah yes, the feminine one. With the androgynous haircut and the shy disposition and the physical weakness compared to the others. God that’s like, a fujoshi’s take on ao3 of what character should be trans. As much as yeah of course, trans guys can be feminine, they are in no way obligated to be such and you shouldn’t make them more so to be more “believably” so. Ask any actual trans person ever. A character like that is just perpetuating the notion of trans guys being inherently more feminine or trying to pretend to be otherwise.ThEn, of course, there’s the ridiculous sexualization, infantilization and fetishization of this character, going through a thousand plot hurdles to make him constantly stripped, put in girls clothing, chased by perverts, assaulted, ET FUCKING CETERA. Give him a fUCKING BREAK. Creating this character the way he’s portrayed in canon (including so called backstory of murdering parents because of sexual and physical abuse) is perpetuating a notion that someone would be a trans guy because of internalized misogyny and/or trauma instead of because they’re just... a guy. It’s just it’s just it’s just Really bad. Plus taking his character, demonizing him and making him like, supposedly love haise (which i Really hate for a thousand reasons, god that’s like, a parent and child type relationship they have there not romantic,,, god,,,) try to like fucking murder touka and stop seeing sense, and then just... return him to being infantalized. God. Jesus christ fucking goddamn it I love Mutsuki and he deserves better.

Oh yeah and then the homophobia, this one’s smaller because... most of the trans people are here to go “it’s gay... wait it’s not Really gay so it’s ok” but I would like to leave a small note here for all the gay characters who got thrown under the bus not just in re but in the original, like, you know, Nico and shit? I really do not know shit about Nico but all the things about Jason? God if I had a thing for one person that you shouldn’t try to portray as representation it’s Jason. IDK what’s up with him and Naki but god it wasn’t healthy. (i’d like to say here that i love naki and i think naki deserves the world but honey there are better heroes than yamori) Anyway yeah I think that’s also bullshit and Ishida should stay in his fucking lane. (or her i guess, i just feel like it’s probably a guy bc of just... so much sexism)

Ok, now that we have the big one out of the way-

2. The mishandling of portrayals of various mental illnesses:

I’m not an expert on this one like I can say about the gays TM but just like in general, the whole manga’s very messy and portrays a lot of gritty stuff, and Ishida clearly attempts to throw in some mental illness for fun, but god fUcking damn it they’re bad. I couldn’t really even give you examples bc it’s pretty widespread and i’m stupid, but it was really like trump throwing paper towels “and you get a demonization, and you get an infantalization, and you get a butchered character, and you get a fetishization-”

3. Ishida having no fucking clue how science works

This particular factoid led me to have a very hard time reading this manga because it went from being about like, yknow, torture and fights and crying and stuff to weird experimentation bullshit and mutated whatever and everyone’s a hybrid now I guess. When I heard this thing about the quinxes, I thought that made no sense, because I was like “yeah but wait,,, how tf does that work didn’t Ishida say earlier that kagune literally were fueled by human meat isn’t that like the entire point the ccg is against?” and then Ishida’s explanation of how they’re not just exactly like Kaneki is that “oh yeah well there’s like, metal around it, so it’s different.” OH YEAH OK THAT MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW, THANKS.

The thing is... there’s no way of actually regulating that. You couldn’t move a kagune unless it was attached to your cells, and if it’s attached man, it’s attached and it’s part of you. Also yelling “frame two” won’t like make it any bigger lmao, either you’re gonna have it based on theoretical science in this universe or you’re going to have a dumb supernatural magic pokemon fight deal. The whole thing makes no sense. The science issue isn’t just about this either, it’s also about how the entire thing basically undermines the point of the whole story. When you blur the lines between human and ghoul with little to no real rules or basis in real science, every rule kind of just becomes cheap plot convenience.

So the Quinxes can eat human food unless they use their kagune too much, alright, but Kaneki couldn’t eat human food before he’d even ever used his though the only difference between their bodies was this,,, theoretical metal thing?? And Haise... was never really covered, before he went black hair emo bastard and like vored Eto, did he eat human food like the rest of the CCG? He certainly cooked it. And the squad that lived with him wasn’t aware he was a ghoul until he pulled out the kagune. So I’d assume so, but then how could he have a kagune, how could he survive when his body still was like that?

Is it the RC suppressents? Then couldn’t he just have taken those and lived as a human the entire time? Is that all he fucking needed, is that the only difference between human and ghoul? It doesn’t make sense and the rules are bent so much they don’t function anymore. Ishida like write down your rules somewhere even if they’re bullshit, they shouldn’t contradict each other.

Damn man I’m not even going to go into the dumbass rules of the half humans or the special fast aging thing or the fucking,,, folded up cells deal,,, or the Imagination Kagune, or the fucking,,, Dragon, or the zombie ghoul apocalypse or the “whole new species made of just kagune” i don’t even have the time it is fucking ridiculous and I can’t even with it. Physics. Laws of physics. If not biology, at least follow physics Ishida??? Please???? And if you’re not you need to do that consistently??

4. character glow ups actually being character glow downs 

(with the exception of nishiki, he baby now, and akira, i think her development was valid af)

God, this one gets me every time. Touka was cool. Touka was fucking badass, she had a complex character with many motivations and wants, and in the original having her eventually kind of soften bc of Kaneki is valid. But taking her and turning her into like literally nothing but Pretty Housewife Yearning For Husband At War? God, kill me. She’s a strong person. She can like Kaneki without the guy being her only character trait. Also uh, Touka and Kaneki being a couple was valid before this change, now I honestly can’t stomach it. Like they were the kind of “both bisexual” m/f couple that we stan. No longer I guess.

She’s the most egregious example, but I’d also like to point out Juuzou, not everything they changed about him is bad, honestly we fucking stan his knife legs, but he’s kind of like a rip off L now? You got rid of his ~unhinged~, we do not stan. I’m on the fence about him bc i think that kind of is a valid transition to adulthood and I guess he’s grown up, but again, why change his fucking hair color? What is the explanation for this?

Also Hinami. I mean, I don’t really care about her a lot in general, but it’s weird to see her as like an adult when Ayato emo boy looks like exactly the fucking same and they’re like,,, supposedly the same age. 

There are definitely more I’m missing here. Honestly, Hide was valid. God him with his fucking burlap sack. With a fucking lenny face on it. I can’t with him. That’s so Hide. But there were some bad ones.

5. one hair color change was my limit, enough said

black white black and white black white more white god bitch get some variety

6. Showing me great new characters and then promptly ruining them

And you can tell this one’s about quinx squad, my favorite bastard children. God, I love them. They’re the only good things about Re other than Hide and Haise and like everything else, Ishida took them and went “what if i *guts*” god why. I love these kids with all my heart. Why. Why. Why did you do that to Mutsuki. Why as soon as Haise isn’t in the room they all get themselves tangled up with pedos. Why they gotta break up the squad. Why make all of them lose all the wholesomeness and lessons they learned from Haise. Why do you ruin them all with weird unreciprocated random crushes on each other when they’re like basically siblings. Why fuckinG KILL SHIRAZU HE IS THE APPOINTED CHIEF DUMBASS OF THE SQUAD WHY HIM. WHY. WITH SO LITTLE IMPACT. YOU COULD FUCKING MISS IT SO EASILY. THAT’S NOT RIGHT. AND KANEKI JUST FUCKING ABANDONS THEM BC HE HAS HIS MEMORIES AGAIN N O ? NO ACTUALLY NO.

7. the casual racism and sexism :)

i just :) can you stop having girls constantly bring themselves down for being female :) and making them be oversexualized, less full characters :) always in some way connected to a guy :) more weak and hurt more often :) my fucking god :) also yeah it’s way less prevalent but there were a few racist caricatures thrown in there for taste if you don’t know how to draw lips just don’t

8. Ishida being too much of a pissbaby for a real death scene

Basically: undermining the impact of “deaths” fom the first series while also randomly and badly killing off new characters. Oh that character that died in the original in a really cinematic way that made you cry and think about the meaning of life and how beautifully tragic this story was? Oh lol they’re not Actually dead. (x10) Doing that with Hide (at least in the manga, not the anime, god root A really did it with him but we’re not talking about that) was valid, seeing as I love him your honor and in the manga one of the lessons that his character hinges on was like in chapter 75 to live on instead of giving up even if it hurts and all that... (this is obviously kind of the opposite from root A where his character was like more about sacrificing for kaneki since kaneki had already done so much, i think both are valid but we’re Talking About The Manga) he was done well. That was right (even though i think they should have done More of it) but there were so many characters this kind of thing was done to without the proper adjustment in the handling of the messages given here. 

Like with Koma and Irimi, who,,, honestly should have stayed dead because their entire character arc kinda ended there and showed how they were sorry for their actions and this was how they were making it up. And then they just like... come back. And fight more. Really? This wasn’t the only instance either, same deal with Shinohara (though him coming back made me cry) it like, kind of undermines it if you’re going to have Juuzou derive his character development from that. Either Juuzou gets to keep his unhinged and his dad, or he loses his dad for real and he also grows up. God guys choose. What’s the message you’re playing here. (at least they kept Yoshimura dead, his death made me cry and I would have stabbed something if it wasn’t real, probably Ishida.) And even with Kaneki himself, god, if he can’t die from being stabbed straight through the fucking eye, what COULD kill him? It really diminishes the anxiety you feel about “omg is this person gonna die i want them to be ok” if they basically evade the laws of physics and their own previous character arcs 70 times. I’m definitely forgetting more of the same, Ishida can’t write a good death, he needed the anime writers to do it for him.

9. Kaneki. Just. Kaneki. 

God they fucking butchered this man. I could go on about his character is weird and confusing in the manga from the beginning, but we’re focusing on mostly all his weird :re character development, the bad handling of Haise and his memories, and all his iterations.

Before I read :re, what I could glean from fanart and the occasional fic that wasn’t tagged properly was really confusing and kind of a mixed bag. I knew Haise was Kaneki but without his memories, now in the ccg trying to be a pacifist and going :DDDDD a lot yknow. And what I came up with in my own mind for that change was a deal of (this makes more sense with the anime canon tbh, the manga honestly doesn’t do any of this well) like Kaneki after The Shit Went Down With Hide (whichever canon you’d like to interpret that as) he basically realized that he really couldn’t be a ghoul, he didn’t want to be, he didn’t want to hurt people and he wanted to be happy and make other people happy instead of what he thought was right before (trying to fight to protect others on his own etc) because that mentality had gotten people he loved hurt, and well subconsciously I guess that kind of factored into his development into Haise and maybe caused his memory loss (along with the, yknow, shanked eye.) So when I started to read it that kind of checked out, this is what he’s trying so hard to be now. But then this whole bullshit of the whole other like, 37 different versions of kaneki complicated things. 

Haise was scared that when he got his memories back he would cease to be, well, Haise, and he would just like revert back to what he was before everything. Which I can understand him being scared of and I think was a good point in the plot for him to worry about that, but I was like “oh honey don’t worry that’s not how it works” and was kind of vying for him to eventually get his memories back, come to terms with the fact that those were his memories, he did do those things, he was half a ghoul, and maybe come back to his original fight of wanting to bring the humans and ghouls together, still caring about his human people in the ccg and all. That development was real, and it wouldn’t just go away if he got his memories back, he learned a lot and grew a lot and he has a different outlook on life now. Right?

Fucking wrong I guess. Dude gets his memories back (very ambiguously, it was really hard to tell when that even happened tbh) and like. Turns into a flaming ass looking like ebony darkness dementia raven way. Haise gone. Fucking completely. No trace left. Doesn’t care about his kids anymore. When he’s done with that and goes white again he’s just Kaneki again and there’s really not enough left of things that like, really wouldn’t go away? He loses the flair? The dumbass? The :D? The Extra? WHY? Why would those things go away? Haise shouldn’t have been right that he would disappear when he got back his memories. That killed me. I love Kaneki and all but H a i s e. He is my b o y. H i m. With his e n e r g y  s h o r t s. And his m o m. And his c o o k i n g. And his k i d s, I l o v e him. And Ishida doesn’t seem to realize that they’re... literally the same person. Haise isn’t just some stupid bastard occupying Kaneki’s body, he’s a valid part of Kaneki himself and to be honest, peak Kaneki. Should have stayed that way. Would have been great for Hide tbh. Not just having him pretty much revert to his old self, but basically respond equally to both names and balance the world between human and ghoul. I would have loved that. What happened for real? It doesn’t make sense and it breaks my heart.

Some people on the interwebz try to kind of even that whole deal out by trying to say he like, has DID, which although is obviously a valid thing, like, so does not apply to him. God I’m like so not an expert on this but I feel like it’s not that hard to tell. His 87 little Kanekis in his head aren’t separate personas, they’re metaphorical representations of his past morals, experiences, and ideologies that all conflict. Again Haise here is peak conflict because when he gets his memories back, he has all these different conflicting ideas that were all previously separate. They’re all him. Tortured Kaneki constantly yelling at him in Jason’s chamber is basically again, a metaphor for how he’s denying his ghoulhood and the trauma that he’s been dealt. It’s not that this dude still exists just the way he is ready to show up at any moment lmao. Ishida kind of dealt with that badly too because Haise really said

after his memories happened so I can see why people might, but it’s... not right, and it’s Ishida’s fault about that which is Incorrect

Also just blanket statement, black reaper Kaneki? Fuck him and all he stands for. 0% valid. I can excuse literally every other version of him. But wh y. God he leaves the room and Urie starts misusing his power and getting groomed by a pedo, Saiko is just, left behind and sad, Mutsuki gets captured by a perv and mentally destroyed again, Shirazu dies and the bitch is like like “lol it’s your fault” yeah helpful, die

10. P- the- the porn chapter-

Idk about you but that was so fucking unecessary??? Not even going off of how terribly awkward and weird it was to have it there when the opening was “i’m sad about my best friend who’s gonna get executed what do you do when you’re sad about your best friend” “i simply do not think of him or i might actually just curl up and die” “yo lmao same” “wanna fuck” Like ok um I’m biased bc i’m not straight but I like, really hated that. Even just flipping through the pages as fast as I could to get to the end of it like. God. It’s not a fucking hentai. I’m here for the plot. If you’re not gonna release the director’s cut of kaneki fucking voring hide, i don’t think i need to see 20 pages of straight fucking sex. And if you absolutely must have porn, kaneki is a fucking bottom. That man gets pegged do not try to prove otherwise. You started it out that way god I love how they’re like “oh god wait that looks kind of gay, the woman being dominant, better stop that right now” god Ishida not having a single iota of knowlege about his own characters aND THEN SHE GETS PREGNANT? NO. Excuse me. No. I just. I. Why. This isn’t. A fucking porno. This isn’t tentacle porn i swear oh my god kill me

11. Giving the wrong characters attention

Basically, redeeming characters that should have been redeemed and not going into/discussing characters that should have been redeemed/had more backstory. For example, Tsukiyama can go fucking die. I like, do not even care rich boy. I don’t understand how anyone could think he needed to be redeemed he’s just a gay attention whore who really needs to let this kid get on with his merry fucking life. I don’t care. I literally did not need to read three whole books about his dumbass hangup over eating Kaneki. Kaneki doesn’t fucking want you bitch move on. He didn’t need to be redeemed or seen to be in any way sympathetic, no one wanted it. Same with that bitch ass Furuta, he wasn’t really redeemed but he was given w a y too much time to play out his sob story. God man Rize doesn’t fucking want you. These gross ass simps. I swear.

On the other hand, I kind of liked Eto even though she’s a pile of shit, and I got mad when they didn’t really go into much about her. And you know who could have gotten much more screen time/development? TOUKA. God, I love her and she was just sitting around in the background being straight. Let her have some spicy development. Also obviously, Hide. He was... so underappreciated and underexplained? What happened with him? He didn’t just pick himself off the ground in the sewers and go ‘well i’d better get back to the ccg now’ we have a whole two years which are completely unexplained, most of which he was off mysteriously being involved in things but completely missing the eye of Haise and other major players. Where tf was he? How did he get around? What was he even doing??? I wanna know about that! Not all the characters I hate’s tragic backstories that make me feel 0% more sympathetic towards them :)

12. ARE WE ALL JUST GONNA COLLECTIVELY IGNORE THE WHOLE VORE THING???

Ok like i know i say “the entire reason I read :re was __” but like to be honest this was the turning point, I saw pictures of hide’s vore face and went like

So I was like “god fucking damn it ok, Ishida would you care to explain this to me” *cracks open re*

And then they DIDN’T.

Like. It’s actually laughable how much that entire situation was just glossed over. They gave that maybe like two pages. Like what. I. This manga has more sex scene than no homoing that. They just don’t even bother to. I feel like Ishida had that as a plot point but realized halfway in how it looked (i.e., really fucking gay) and decided that was something that he was just gonna, not deal with. Just act like that’s a completely normal heterosexual bro thing to do. Like of course anywhere would be pretty gay but Kaneki chose his face. His face. Like his face and his wholeass neck and his shoulders and nowhere else. (and assumedly like, his tongue, seeing as how the dude can’t talk... bruh) Dude really said extreme hickey. French kiss to the max. Ishida clearly did realize that generally, you can only get a bitten off face by,,, having your face bitten off, which is just inherently really fucking gay. Like, I’m just at a loss as to how it even makes sense. You wouldn’t think that the skin off his face, and specifically around his mouth, would really be the most nutritious thing to consume? I can get like the shoulders but generally you’d think something like his arm or leg would be 1.less inconvenient, and 2.much more logical and nutritious? But NO, Kaneki was like “you know what i’m gonna do? eat your Face” and hide’s like “lmao sounds cool”

(not to mention, wasn’t there another guy with a vore face somewhere? like that old guy in the ccg with the bigass turtleneck, i wanna know about him) But like... my bro Ishida went “yeah this happened but i’m going to cover it up with speech bubbles and the ends of panels guys they clearly had their socks on” Dude didn’t even TRY to explain otherwise. Like hey man, that’s pretty damn gay, you are kind of at liberty to either tell me why otherwise, or accept those implications and acknowledge them?? It’s really hilarious when you ignore it cause it’s like

kind of

pretty damn

WEAK of you to leave it at that fucking pissbaby

hmmmmmmmmm however could this happen i guess we’ll never know

13. What the fuck was even the plot omg

God I’ve been writing this post for like five hours so like, I’ll keep it short but like it made sense in the original, not to be like an anime fan but the anime made fucking sense (not re i mean like the original) this lore is so fucking stupid god, the horrors of the entire fucking dragon arc bleach my eyes, unresolved plotlines who???? (the whole ‘oh yeah also ur dying of old age’ thing etc, is kaneki like??? still doing that?? or was that randomly resolved with the whole spewing ovary bullshit i’m going to fucking kill myself) and to top it off, good job Ishida at a real fucking cheap ending. 

You gave them. Fake human. Really? They just come up with artificial human at the end. Kind of undermines the entire fucking story my guy. Ah yes throw out our whole plot. That was the whole tragedy. You gotta eat human. The ghouls have to eat human and that’s tragic bc they have to kill people or whatever. Or i guess they fucking don’t well fucking ok. God you could have just had them negotiate a kind of peace where the ghouls can get dead humans and such, there are plenty of them and no one has to kill anyone then, there could be a rule system for it, it would be messy but eventually everyone would be ok with it, and I think that would work a lot better than “quick fix i made some hamburger helper human you can eat it fine” guys wtf. It’s like Ishida started plotting out the ending for re approximately 2 hours before his deadline. Anyway yes I hate re and I love yelling about it thank you for coming to my ted talk.