#and i’m not interested in debating the specifics

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[lunityviruz]

I might have to do something…

[yioh]

the whole csm discourse on twitter is so dumbbbbb oh my god😭

[sunnibits]

every day on this website I see bad izzy hands takes,, starting to think y’all had the right idea just following me and other sexy people instead of ever checking the actual character tag. I need to make a bunker for only me and my like three mutuals who have good izzy opinions™️ and just never have to witness any izzy posts by other people ever again unless it’s some cool fanart dropped through a slot in the bulletproof door.

[tinytennisskirt]

The Gymnast

College! Art x Patrick x Gymnast! Reader

Summary: (as requested) "college!arttrick with gymnast!reader in which they’re basically pervs with all the stupid questions but she matches their freak and they’re totally stunned would be hot i fear."

the boys sit in on a gymastics practice and the girl they take interest in happens to take the same interest in them.

warnings: mentions of weed. threesome, reader gets fucked by art and pat, fingering, handjob. smut! smut smut smut!

“Dating outside of tennis is a better idea, I’m telling you,” Patrick said as the boys walked down the Stanford sports building halls. The plan was to go play a few indoor games on the court, but the boys being boys, stopped at the cafeteria first, and both of them, eyes bigger than their stomachs, had too many hot dogs and no longer felt much like practicing. Patrick snatched a sheet off of one of the corkboards on the wall. “Girl’s sports.” 

“What am I doing with this?” Art chuckled, taking the list from Patrick.

“What are we doing with this? Finding a sport, going to watch. Something to do. Pick something that isn’t tennis, you know. See some girls doing their thing.” 

Art chuckled, “You don’t think that’s a little weird?” 

“Nah, games are meant to be watched, I’m sure there’s something good going on.” Patrick shrugged, trying to snatch the list back, but Art extended his arm so Patrick couldn’t reach it, grinning. “You pick then.” 

“Pickleball.” Art debated. 

“Too close to tennis, come on. Pick something hotter.” 

“Hotter? Thought you’d like the pickleball skirts.” 

“I do, but they’re just tennis skirts. Give me the list-” he took it from Art’s hand. “Rugby…Could be good, contact, girls on girls…” Art did a half-nod, thinking about it, but then he shook his head no. “Volleyball.” 

“I still have flashbacks from intramurals,” Art said. “Go down to the less popular stuff.” 

“Good idea…” Patrick’s finger trailed down the list. “Fuck yeah. Gymnastics?” 

“Done,” Art agreed. The boys shared the same stupid look on their faces as they looked at which gym the girls gymnastics in and they jogged over like eager little boys whose parents tell them they can get whatever they want from the candy shop. “What are we expecting from this? They don’t have games.” 

“Competition?” Patrick shrugged, pushing the door open. 

The boys spoke in unison, to their dismay, “Practice.” And they could have turned around, and walked out pretending like they just went to the wrong place, but Patrick took a few more steps in and there was no turning back after that, unfortunately.  Art groaned a little, following through, up a few stairs and past where a few other people were hanging out watching the practice. Not too far, but far enough that they could observe all the Stanford gymnasts. The boys took their seats and set their bags down. Patrick kicked his feet up. Art just leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. 

“This was the best decision,” Patrick said a little absentmindedly as he focused in on each girl. “Holy fuck.” 

“Uh huh,” Art agreed again, his gaze falling on all the girls on the mats and the beams, stretching, limbering up, doing their little cartwheels and flips

“It’s impressive,” Patrick added.

“So impressive. They’re very talented young women.” Art returned. Both of them did not let their eyes wander anywhere else. Girls doing all sorts of acrobatic bends and twists and tricks, it was mesmerizing. With the three brain cells shared between them when hot women were present, it was only a few minutes before their interests collided in specifics. On one particular girl. You. 

You had your leg up above your head on the wall, stretching. You were in dark pink shorts and a black tank top, talking to your friends. Your leg was so high up over your head, that both boys were thinking the same thing. “Holyyy fuck,” Patrick said under his breath. “She’s…” 

“Flexible.” 

“Hot.” 

Neither of them took their eyes off of you. You were laughing, engaging in conversation, your leg up on the wall like it was nothing. You shook your hair out of your bun to fix it up a little and the boys were practically drooling. Their eyes lingered on the way your body moved when you took your leg down, bending in odd ways that they both never thought they’d find hot. You spun like a dancer and you were light on your feet and you were probably the most gorgeous woman they’d ever seen. Deja vu, both boys were hard watching you bend and stretch and flip and twirl. You were flawless in every way… 

You saw them in your peripheral, lowering your voice and looking to your friend Tess. “Do we know them?” You asked her, a small smile on your face. “The two boys in the stands, I feel like they’re watching me, are they?” 

Tess pretended to yawn, glancing their way. “Staring. They’re staring.” 

“Are they cute?” 

Tess grinned a little, pretending to twist her back, looking back at them and then you, “They are. Oh my god.” 

“Really?” You giggled just a little. “Oh my god. And it’s me?” 

She giggled back, grabbing your hands for a second. “Here, wait, move over there,” she instructed. You did a cartwheel and back handspring and Tess watched their eyes follow you. She nodded and you both started laughing. “I have no idea who they are. The way they’re watching you, I don’t think they belong to any of these girls.” 

“I love that.” 

“As you should, as you should. If they end up talking to you, send one my way, mhm?” 

“Of course,” you replied, scrunching your nose. It could have been weird. Two strangers watching the girls practice, but their focus was on you. And you weren’t too concerned by it. You thought of it as some form of flattery. It was a good thing you couldn’t see their faces, watching you, entirely hypnotized, their dicks fighting the fabric of their jeans over the way you bent and twisted and twirled. You asked around a little to see if any of the girls knew them and the answers were all no. They truly didn’t belong to anyone. You did sneak a glimpse or two. They were both really cute. You returned to Tess as practice was closing, “They aren’t anyone’s boyfriend. Think I should say hi?” 

“The way they were looking at you? The way they still are? Please say more than ‘hi’.”

“I just might,” you said, pulling a mischievous little face. You said goodbye to the girls and as they all funneled out, you continued to do your exercises. Leg up, leg down, backbend, and flipping over from the backbend onto your feet. You stayed just an extra minute so that when you did start to get your things together, they were well aware of the lack of extra persons in the room. You grabbed your water bottle, looking up at the boys for the first time, dead on. “Hi.” 

Both boys had to snap themselves out of a trance when you called up to them. It was real, you were real, you said hi. You. Both of them didn’t have a word to say for a moment. Art stood up, “Hey.” He said, a little enthusiastically. Had you caught them off-guard? You smiled, walking up the steps. 

Patrick stayed seated, taking his legs off the back of the seat in front of him. “Hi.” He nodded your way. 

“Aspiring gymnasts?” You teased, sitting opposite them on the chair in front of them. Patrick pressed his tongue to his cheek, looking down at his knees. Art sank back into his seat. They’d been caught. “I mean, it’s not every day we get two random guys in here and they aren’t anyone’s boyfriend.” You smiled a gorgeous smile that almost made them both hard again. You were so much prettier up close. It happened you were thinking the same thing. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

“Patrick,” he said. 

“Art,” Art introduced himself in return. You grinned wider. “You’re amazing. I’ve never seen anyone do so many flips in a row.” He gushed. You noted him fidgeting with his hands. It was cute. 

“It was impressive,” Patrick added on. 

“So you hung around because I do flips and it’s impressive. I am flattered, extremely. So when do I get to sit and watch you two do impressive flips?” Art and Patrick both chuckled. You looked down at the bags by their seats, recognizing their racket bags. You laughed a little, “Or play tennis. You’re tennis guys.” 

“Might be,” Patrick replied. 

“We are.” Art admit. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh my god, I’ve seen you guys play! You’re the fire and water guys, I didn’t even realize.” You pointed at them and they smiled to each other. Patrick mouthed ‘water’ at his best friend, grinning. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea I was in the presence of such a talented duo.” 

Art leaned forward just a bit, flattered you knew who they were. Sort of. “You like tennis?” 

“When we’re bored, me and my best friend Tess go watch the men’s tennis to hear the noises they make when they hit the ball.” You nodded, “The only time men can grunt and moan out loud and women can enjoy it publicly.” 

Patrick chuckled a little breathily. You were perfect. Art shifted the way he was sitting, laughing to himself as well. It was hard to talk to you, they both found. You were almost too gorgeous to look at. “Haven’t heard that one.” Art said a little sheepishly. He turned to Patrick, “Do we-” 

“You do,” Patrick nodded. “Loud.” 

“Mhm, I think I can remember.” You grinned. 

“No.” Art grinned, bashful. Patrick laughed. 

“You too, though.” You cut into his laugh and Patrick leaned forward to defend himself, but he just ended up laughing with you and Art. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, with all the impact, tennis can be very sensual.

“Gymnastics isn’t?” Patrick said, looking you in the eyes. 

You narrowed your eyes with a smirk that sent shockwaves through both of their nervous systems. “I never said it wasn’t. It’s why you were watching, after all?” 

Both boys were moving to adjust themselves at this point. You just kept that smile on your face. Art pressed his cheek to his closed fist, trying not to smile too wide. “Are you free right now?” 

Patrick looked over at Art, then at you again. You tilted your head, “I think so.”

“You smoke weed?” Patrick asked. 

“Are you a cop?”

“So yes,” Patrick smiled. 

You chuckled, looking over at Art whose nose was a little pink. “Yes. Do we need that though or are you asking me to hang out?” 

“Asking you to hang out,” Art said. He twisted his ring around his finger. “If you’re up for it.” 

You twisted your mouth to the side, “How is later? So I can shower ‘n get pretty?” 

“Later is good,” Art nodded. Both boys straightened out at your immediate yes. Almost like they weren’t hearing you right. You were gorgeous and perfect and you said yes. To them. Without weed involved. “Where?” 

You stood up, moving back over to the stairs. “Where’s your dorm?” You were inviting yourself over and both of them were in awe, much too excited. Art didn’t mind, just meant he had to run back to his dorm and get rid of all of Patrick’s chip bags. “If you don’t mind. If not, we can just meet out-”

“His dorm is fine,” Patrick chimed in, small chuckle. “310, red building. See you when?” 

“Nine.” You nodded. “That’s okay with you, Art?” 

His name in your voice sounded angelic. “Yeah- yes, it’s okay with me. We’ll see you at nine.” 

You smirked once more, laying a finger aside your nose. “Bye.” 

Both boys said goodbye to you in return, watching you turn and go down the steps, grab your things, and leave. They both had their hands tight around the arm rests of their seats in just a little bit of shock and disbelief. You were hot. You were really hot and you were perfect and funny and dirty… And they would be seeing you later. In Art’s dorm room. 

“That was real,” Art breathed out. “Holy fuck.”  

“Gymnastics was the way to go.” 

Around eight-thirty the boys had just finished shoving all the laundry into the little cabinet in the corner. There were no more chip bags or empty cans laying around. The place looked decent. They even made the bed and cleared off the desk in the corner. Art sprayed his cologne on the doorframe and into the air of the room. Patrick finished tidying up the bathroom. Done with their cleanup, Art sat on the floor next to his bed and Patrick sat in the desk chair. 

“I can’t stop thinking about her leg over her head. Fuck, imagine how good it must feel to fuck her like that.” Patrick said, staring at the wall, dazed. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Just her…”

The boys stayed almost wordless, having their own individual fantasies. Until you knocked on the door. Art and Patrick were comfortable, so it made sense you would be too. Art and Patrick rushed to open the door to face you, your hair down, a different, thicker-strapped black tank top that was cut to just above the edge of your loose shorts. You had a sweater on, but it was slipped off of both of your shoulders, the fabric bunched up at your elbows. Both boys had their breath sucked away from them, like someone pressed all the air from their chest. A smile creeped up your lips. “Am I late? Early?” 

“Hi.” Art said, just a little late. “No, you’re fine, come in.” 

“Hey,” Patrick greeted you. You smiled his way, scrunching your nose just a bit, sitting at the head of Art’s bed. Both boys climbed onto the other end of the bed, Art with his legs crossed and Patrick with one leg up, one leg off the bed. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, I’m good, you?” You returned. Art leaned into his palm, looking at Patrick. 

“I’m great.” He nodded. “So, this is you showered and pretty?” 

“I wouldn’t self-title,” You smirked at his callback. “So what’d you guys do all afternoon? Tennis, video games, endless cleaning and shoving laundry in places laundry doesn’t go?” 

The boys looked at each other, wondering how you knew about that. Art grinned, “The last one, yeah. Mostly. Um… What about you?” He was nervous, you liked that about him. 

You leaned back against his wall, looking around his room. He had various tennis rackets against his wall, a nice computer, a little fridge. It smelled good, too. “Showered, had dinner, got ready and came over here. Not very entertaining.” 

Art looked at you, eyes travelling down your form. You were in his bed, it was hard to believe. “Interesting enough. So… how long have you been in gymnastics?” 

“Since I was five? Or six. But competitive mostly, then acrobatics, then contortion, then dance, and then back to the basics.” 

“Contortion?” Patrick questioned. His tongue pressed the inside of his cheek again. Art nudged Patrick back at the mention. “That’s where you can twist in weird ways, right?” 

“Mhm, most people find it freaky, but it’s fun.” 

“So you’re really good at what you do, then.” Art said. “That’s incredible, most people can’t even do one of those. I can’t even do a handstand.” 

“He can do a cartwheel, though, I think that’s really important,” Patrick said, grabbing Art’s shoulder firmly. “I can’t do either one.” 

You giggled at the thought, “I’d love to see that sometime, you have to show me this cartwheel. You should pull that out in a tennis game, during a rally or something. Oh! Speaking of,  I did find a really interesting video. Doubles, Junior US Open. You guys are really fucking good.” 

Art put his face in his hands, “Forgot that was recorded.” 

Patrick just smirked. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. “Guess we all have our thing.” Art was staring at your thighs, his lip between his teeth, Patrick watching your lips as you spoke. “Have to say, was a quiet game though.” You joked. Both boys were stunned for a moment. You were so… honest. Too honest. It was hot, really fucking hot. 

Patrick grinned, nudging Art gently. Art smiled, “We weren’t loud enough for you?” 

“Hardly.” Patrick and Art laughed quietly at that. You grinned, back at them, giggling to yourself. “Tennis isn’t much fun for me to watch otherwise.” 

“Could say the same about gymnastics,” Patrick rebutted. 

You tilted your head, “Don’t need to be loud in gymnastics. There’s no impact, no big swings. It would be a little strange if I bent over and made a noise. I prefer having a reason to make noise when I’m bent over. A whole other story.” Both boys just blinked, a little taken aback by how blunt you were. But a gorgeous grin spread up Art’s face along with a tint of pink in his cheeks. “Like you mentioned earlier. It's not like gymnastics doesn’t have its suggestive moments. Frankly, all of it is suggestive.” 

Art ran his tongue over his top teeth, listening to you. “Find it helps at all?” 

“With?” 

“Everything,” Patrick answered, a smirk growing on his face. Both boys had to adjust to hide just how hard they were from this conversation, remembering back to your leg over your head just earlier. Their personal fantasies flashing in the front of their minds. “You know.” 

“No, I don’t think I do,” you said, leaning forward just a bit, moving to sit on your knees in front of them. Art and Patrick just laughed to themselves, nervous, caught in your web all too well. Your perfect lower lip between your teeth had the both of them almost drooling. You were so blunt but you played dumb so perfectly… “What do you mean everything?” 

Patrick and Art both couldn’t form the words. Not for a moment. Even less when you chimed in again, “By myself or with someone else?” You asked. They had even fewer words. Their minds were wiped clean by your easy seduction. God, they were so cute and so fun to play with. 

Art’s cheeks were a shade of pink. He was so pretty, you noted, also taking in Patrick’s bashful grin. “Everything,” Patrick restated, his mouth a little open, tongue still pressed to the inside of his cheek. Cocky, almost. 

“It’s handy,” you replied. Art had to shift around again. He was so hard that it hurt. “I’m sure tennis has its pros.” You looked at their hands. “Wouldn’t be the same, but they’re your own.” 

“For sure,” Art agreed. “But gymnastics… I mean you have to be…” 

You scrunched your nose at him, “Flexible.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, fidgeting now with his lower lip. “Flexible. Especially with the contortion thing, that’s crazy, that must be-” 

“I want to know about that one thing that can happen when you stretch a certain way,” Patrick interjected. “Is that true?” 

You giggled, eyes widening. “I forgot about that!” Patrick referred to the stretch-induced orgasm that was fabled, but entirely possible. “It’s real, I’ve heard about it, but personally, no. From gymnastics or even stretching, I’ve never been able to…” 

“Come,” Patrick grinned. You grinned back. 

Art looked at you, “But you’ve done things related to your gymnastics? I mean, the moves you can pull are amazing, they must be… convenient.” 

“I’d say so,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. You pretended like you couldn’t see the boner he was hiding under his wrist. “But Sigmund Freud once wrote about tennis saying that hitting tennis balls without competition was akin to masturbation. And that live competitive games are comparable to sex. I’m not a big fan of Freud, but where do you stand on that?” 

Art’s eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and the fact he could see the edges of your bra. “Might be comparable, but nothing close to the real thing.”

You nodded just slightly, looking to Patrick for his answer, your gaze something perfect and breathtaking. Art pressed slightly on his boner when you weren’t looking at him, something, anything for a little relief for how hard he was. Patrick locked eyes with you, “I’d ask you if you’ve ever actually played.” 

“I haven’t.” You replied. “Would I find it comparable to sex? If I played against you?” 

Patrick grinned, “Depends on how into the game you are.” 

“I might be really into it, would it feel the same?” 

“In some ways, maybe.” He nodded, looking at Art. Art looked at him, then you. The tension in the room was thick and these boys were growing more aroused by the second. “Doesn’t feel the same physically but it might if you let your mind wander.” 

Art chuckled a little, “It can feel good. Winning. Even losing, sometimes. It’s all emotion, I mean, everything is. And without the tension with your opponent, it’s not really tennis, is it?” 

“No, I guess not,” you paused for a beat, looking at them both. Your sultry gaze, perfect features, perfect body, and perfect lips made them more and more dazed, lost in you. Their only thoughts were how badly they wanted to fuck you. It felt a little perverted to be so attracted to someone for the way they can bend, twist, and move, but there wasn’t any harm in it. “You’re both making me reconsider my sport,” you laughed. “Sounds worth it.” 

“Might be,” Art replied. “It’s nothing compared to the flexibility thing, though.” He chuckled, so fucking nervous, so fucking attracted to you, “I mean, I wish…” He rambled. Patrick wanted to laugh, but he was more focused on how you continued to lean, placing your hands on the bed in front of you. 

“You wish?” You giggled, slowly moving closer. Art felt his face grow even more hot, his dick pulsing. “You wish you were flexible?” You giggled a little more, your lip settling between your teeth. Patrick let a breath slip through his parted lips as you advanced on Art. Both boys had their hearts pounding in their chests and in their dicks. Art swallowed hard. 

He couldn’t say or do anything when you slowly crawled into his lap, sitting on your knees, your hands gently pushing his hair behind his ears. Art swore his heart was going to jump out of his chest and that this wasn’t real, you weren’t on his lap. Patrick repositioned himself, eager, so eager. Art looked at you with eyes wide, clouded with obsession and lust, and god, he wanted you so bad, but he let you look at him for a moment. You could feel him hard underneath you, his hands sliding up your hips and to your waist just bracingly. “I can show you, if you want?” You smiled. Art let out a sigh, he was so whipped. 

There wasn’t much more room for air when you kissed him, pressing your lips to his. His mouth open, kissing you back, a little dazed, but so fucking into it. You felt his grip on your waist increase, pulling you closer. He was so cute and a great kisser. Modest, matching your pace. Shy, almost. So you picked up the pace, grabbed his face harder, kissed him harder, pressed your body against him harder and he groaned through the kiss at all the impact, feeling you flush against his body. 

“Oh fuck…” Patrick mumbled, watching like it like it wasn’t happening in front of him. It was and it was hot. Watching the way Art’s jaw moved, kissing you. His eyes trailing down your thighs, braced on either side of Art’s. The way your body moved so fluidly as you pressed against his best friend. It was a sight easy to get lost in. He watched Art’s hands slide up under your sweater and your hands momentarily left the place on your jaw to remove it. You tossed it on the floor and in doing so, you pulled away just slightly from the kiss. 

Patrick, instinctively, leaned in, kissing you. You met him in the middle, your hands crawling up the back of his neck and into his hair, still straddling Art. Your waist was twisted- if it was anyone else, Art might have worried a little. Patrick’s large hands slid around your back and Art’s hands gripped your thighs gently. You were so perfect, his hands slid up and down the skin of them as you kissed Patrick. He was completely lost in you now. He’d just kissed you and it was perfect and it was real. 

Patrick kissed with passion. It was hot, demanding, needed. You began to pull yourself backward, away from him, but grabbed the front of both of the boy’s shirts, pulling them with you as you kissed Patrick on your back. Art’s body on one side, Patrick’s slightly over yours, but on the other side. He kissed you like he was hungry- like he needed you. Art’s hand traveled the curve of your waist, your hip, back down to your thigh again, fingers dipping into your flesh perfectly. It was with his touch that you pulled away from Patrick and kissed Art again. 

He took it, he wanted it more than anything. Like you were a drug, he kissed you like he was desperate for a high. Kissing him, Patrick moved your hair to the side, beginning to kiss down your neck and collarbone, Art’s shoulder bumping him just a bit, but not too much for it not to feel good. You hummed into Art’s mouth, feeling those warm kisses spread goosebumps down to the thigh Art’s hand was grabbing so perfectly. Your own hand slipped down between your body and Patrick’s, finding the bulge in his shorts and pressing, just slightly with an open palm. Patrick groaned, just slightly. “Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. 

You grinned into your kiss with Art. His hands carefully found the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up over your head with the arch of your back to help. It helped neither one of their painful boners to find out you didn’t have on a bra underneath. It must have been built in… Patrick’s gentle kisses slowly strayed down your chest, kissing your breast. Art’s hand grabbed the opposite one, gently squeezing as he kissed you, his hard-on pressed against your hip for friction. The sensation of both was fucking amazing, your fingers curled in Art’s hair and your other hand pressed harder against Patrick’s crotch. Both boys made a satisfying noise of the same genre, lighting a fire between your legs. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet by the second. Poor Tess didn’t stand a chance with one of them when you had both fawning, touching, kissing, and sucking over your body. Patrick took your nipple in his mouth, gently rolling your nipple between his tongue and the tip of his teeth. Your back arched due to the subject of your pleasure and as much as you liked it, you needed something real to feel… now. You broke from the kiss with Art and his lips were immediately down the opposite side of your neck. Both boys kissed over your chest, you were going to grab Patrick when their lips met in the middle. 

Art and Patrick kissed hard. You watched, propping yourself up on one elbow. Patrick’s hand cupped Art’s jaw, tongue diving into his best friend’s mouth. You just grinned watching them get into it, taking matters truly into your own hands, slipping your hand down the waistband of Patrick’s shorts. With his free hand, he pulled his shorts down and you had the freedom to slowly start moving your hand up and down his cock. He groaned into Art’s mouth and you watched contented as they kissed like they were going to devour each other. They moved, sat up just the slightest bit, which gave you perfect access to Art’s leaking dick. You found your way to that too, having both hands working at the same time, eliciting noises from both as they kissed over you. You didn’t mind, how could you mind? 

But it didn’t last forever, you were good with your hands, and both boys didn’t want to finish early. Patrick broke off first, diving back into kissing you, both boys pulling their dicks away to let your hands rest. They went back to their worship of your body, Patrick’s hand on your chest as you kissed messily. Art’s lips trailing down the side of your stomach, carefully out of Patrick’s way, then kissing back up. You were bold, pulling Art’s hand down to where you needed it, over the cloth of your shorts and underwear. He was happy to do whatever he could for you, gently pressing over you. He could feel how wet you were through two layers of fabric… He was immediately on taking them off. He pulled your shorts down to your knees and you kicked them the rest of the way off, busy kissing Patrick passionately. 

Not too busy to feel when Art’s fingers moved your underwear aside, his thumb on your clit. The pressure of his gentle hands in this sort of mix was amplified by how much you were feeling. “Mmm- fuck,” you mumbled into Patrick’s mouth. He grinned. Art kissed your ribs gently, goosebumps once again spreading throughout your entire body once again. His fingers slowly slid over your folds, feeling how wet you were. He wanted Patrick to feel this, he couldn’t not. Art grabbed Patrick’s hand and guided it down. Both boys had their hands on your pussy now. And it was a wordless joint effort to remove your underwear. 

Your chest rose and fell heavily, sharing your air with Patrick, who was still so focused on kissing you, mumbling, “You’re so wet…”  Another wordless agreement between the boys took place and Patrick’s fingers began to rub circles on your clit while Art’s pointer and middle finger slipped into you with ease. Your free hand gripped Art’s curls again, his lips staying on your warm skin. You grabbed whatever you could as pleasure began to overtake your body. Both boys focused so much on making you feel good, Art’s fingers pumping in and out of you and Patrick’s focused on teasing that perfect bundle of nerves. 

You felt euphoric. Their hands doing their work like it was all they knew, like it was what they did best. Their collaboration was getting you there so fast, you could hardly keep up with how fast the waves of pleasure washed in and built up. You were a bit of a moaning mess, never having been so thoroughly fingered with dual attention to detail. Patrick had the perfect pressure and Art had the perfect angle, hitting the places you needed to be touched in so well, so perfectly. “Oh my god,” you managed, “Fuck me…” 

“Yeah?” Patrick grinned. Art smiled against the tit he was currently kissing. His dick was out and hard against the bed he pressed himself into, leaking pre-cum like he never had before. You moaned out and both boys knew they just had to up the pace a little. Patrick, flat-handed, rubbed your clit faster and Art fucked his fingers into you a little harder, and in seconds, he felt you tighten around him. He almost moaned himself feeling it all, hearing you. He knew he had to be inside of you. 

Patrick and Art kissed over you again, letting you rest for a moment, both so fucking aroused and taken by your sounds, by your being. So completely fucked that they needed to share how they were feeling by kissing hard, mouths a little open, tongues meeting in the spaces between. Harsh breaths from their rapid movement not caught because your hands were back on their dicks again. Both of them moaned into each other and it was the hottest fucking sight. You watched as they removed each other’s shirt, Patrick’s hand sliding down to his own cock, letting that hand fall between your legs. You’d be unable to finish for another minute but it didn’t stop you from touching yourself at this perfect show. Art’s hands in Patrick’s curls and Patrick’s hand jerking himself off fast and hard at all of this. 

Art is trying his best not to finish at your hand. He wants to be inside of you more than fucking anything so when you use your leg to pull him in, away from Patrick, he doesn’t stop it. He crawls over you, kissing up your neck, up to your ear, over your jaw and cheek and he kisses you on the mouth, lips warmed from Patrick’s kiss. You can hear Patrick still jerking himself off, groaning quietly. You heard the pace pick up as Art slowly lifted your leg, farther and farther back until it was above your head. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. You just grinned and it was honestly a little evil. You were in a position equal to the splits and it made you tight as he slowly pushed into you. You moaned into the room as Art filled you. He filled you so well and in this position, you could feel everything. 

Patrick was groaning quietly still as he continued to jerk himself off to the sight. You were flexible and it did come in handy, “Oh my god, you feel so good, so… perfect.” Art mumbled, thrusting into you. “So perfect.” 

“So flexible, fuck, I told you it’d feel good,” Patrick managed through his own pleasure. You smiled at that. They talked about fucking you, that was good to know. You watched Art’s pretty face as he focused on fucking you, the perfect pace, the perfect amount, the perfect angle. You breathlessly watched his pretty eyelashes as he looked down at where you connected, his perfect hand gripping your thigh above your head so hard. His lips just a little parted, breathing hard, so pretty. So fucking pretty, 

“Harder,” you told him, using a free hand to tilt his chin up so he had to look at you. His eyes were gorgeous, all clouded up with lust and need and desperation and he fucked you harder. It was easy, it was cut and dry thrusting and it felt like you might die and go to heaven, the sensations rippling through your body. “Oh my god, it’s so good, it’s so good.” You moaned. You reached over for Patrick, excusing his hand and taking his dick back in your own hand. He didn’t stop you, letting you take over the best you could. It was more than enough, watching Art fuck you so hard, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin on skin. You could hardly breathe with the work done on you and the work you were doing, but it was perfect. You felt Art slow just a little. “You’re close?” 

“Ye-mmmphhh, uh-huh,” he answered. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You can come in me, baby,” you assured him, free hand cupping his cheek. It was hard to talk over how much you were feeling and doing. Your words, the theory of it all seemed to give him the momentum to fuck you harder, slamming into you until it got sloppy and he came undone, spilling into you. God, you were fucking perfect, Patrick thought. They’d just met you and you were thoroughly fucked already. Not fucked enough, though. Art pulled out and was met by Patrick’s hand on his oversensitive dick. He made a noise close to a whimper and there was a beat before his lips crashed back onto Patrick’s. His dick was still hard and completely coated in his own cum. You watched them kiss, your hand unable to follow Patrick’s body when it was so close to Art’s. Semen across Patrick’s lower stomach from how close they were when they kissed, up on their knees. You lowered your leg, feeling Art’s load in you seep out and onto the bed as you did. 

Art leaned Patrick back onto the bed, Patrick’s hand working Art’s cock gently as they went. Your lips met Patrick’s shoulder, kissing over his bicep as the boys continued kissing. They couldn’t fuck, you knew that, they didn’t see this coming. You didn’t think they’d be so into each other, but you did not give that much of a fuck. They were best friends, it was bound to happen. 

Art moved off of Patrick for you, letting you climb over him, still dripping from Art, but it was a half-second before you were sitting on Patrick’s cock. He had slipped in so easily with you all soaked. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass. Art leaned against the wall, still breathing hard from everything, just watching as you rolled your hips, starting to fuck him. Your core strength was up to bat with how fast you rolled your hips, your waist following. Fuck, you were so gorgeous… Was a good thing he’d stayed at your practice or he wouldn’t be about to finish a second time somehow untouched, just watching you and Patrick fuck. He never thought he’d be so into any of this, but you were taking over every thought in his brain…

Patrick groaned, “Fuck, you’re so tight… so wet, so perfect, fuck.” His moans came like breaths, heavy sighs. “Can’t compare this shit to tennis, hm-”

“I’ve yet to play,” you grinned, beginning to bounce on his cock. Patrick grabbed whatever he could, your ass, your waist, everything. Art’s mouth stayed just a little open. “Oh god-” Patrick’s dick curved perfectly into you. You’d ride him into tomorrow if he let you- and he would. You wouldn’t expect it from the one who came off more dominant, the way he seemed to melt as you fucked him into the mattress. Art was more than contented watching. Even more contented when you slipped your own hand down your front, middle finger working your clit. Both boys watched as your head tilted back. You were the most gorgeous person on the fucking planet at this very moment. A little sweaty, but so fucking gorgeous. “Oh my god, I’m gonna-” you moaned out. Art’s dick still, painfully, stood at attention. It couldn’t get enough of all of this. Patrick dug his finger into your ass so hard you were sure you’d have fingerprints as he, without warning, finished inside of you as well. You followed suit just a few seconds later, slowing your bouncing to a dull rock. Both of you with chests heaving came to a stop and you let him pull out, the semen gushing from you, leaking a little down your leg. 

You lay between the boys, naked, breathing hard, lips pink from all the kissing and both boys gladly took their break next to you, trying to sort out how all of what just happened was real. And it was possibly the best sex they’d ever had. You were just as into it as they were. You laid there for a while before inevitably getting up to use the bathroom and Art’s shower. 

Art and Patrick washed themselves off as well and put their shorts back on. “Fuck,” Patrick breathed, still in a state of disbelief. Completely stunned, their fantasies lived out. “Unreal.” 

“She’s real, she’s in my bathroom,” Art replied, dazed. “And she’s really flexible.” 

“Uh-huh,” Patrick nodded. They were interrupted, sitting up when you came out of the bathroom in your clothes again. You crawled into Art’s bed again, laying between them once more. You kissed both of them gently, nicely, and you rested your head down on the new bedsheets Art had changed them to when you were in the bathroom. Both boys, a little confused, both didn’t mind putting an arm around you. 

"Loud enough?"

"More than."

[kierongillen]

General Player Advice For RPGs

I published this in my newsletter here a while back, and discourse reminded me I wanted to put it more public. I probably should get around to actually doing a proper blog for this kind of stuff. You can sign up to the newsletter here.

One of the things which I’ve been chewing over since getting back into RPGs is that there’s so much advice for GMs and so little advice for players. I keep thinking over why - though the whys aren’t what I’m about to write about. However, some other folk think any worthwhile advice is system/genre specific.

This got me chewing over whether I agree with that. As the list below shows, I don’t.

The first four are ones where I think I succeeded, and as principles generally guide you towards better play no matter what game you’re playing. The last three are mainly applicable to games with a significant story component (the last especially). There’s a few more I played with, but they were more about being a good at the table generally – about being a better player in any game rather than specifically about role-playing games. I also avoided ones which were more GM-and-player advice rather than just player advice (if there’s a problem in game, communicate out of game, use appropriate safety tools, etc).

I also didn’t include “Buy The GM Stuff”.

Anyway – here they are. See what you think.

GENERAL PLAYER PRINCIPLES FOR BETTER PLAY

1) Make choices that support the table’s creative goals

If you’re playing a storygame, don’t treat it like a tactical wargame. If you’re playing a tactical wargame, don’t treat it like a storygame. If it’s bleak horror, don’t make jokes. If you’re in a camp cosy romp, don’t bring in horror. It also varies from moment to moment – if someone’s scene is sincere, don’t undercut it.

2) Be A Fan of The Other Characters

This is GM advice in almost all Powered By the Apocalypse games – for the GM to be a fan of the characters. It’s a good trait for a player to cultivate. Be actively excited and interested in the other characters’ triumphs and disasters. Cheer them on. Feel for them. Players being excited for other players always makes the game better. Players turning off until it’s their turn always makes it worse.

3) Be aware of the amount of spotlight time you’re taking

This is a hard one for fellow ADHD-ers, but have an awareness of who is speaking more and who is speaking less. A standard GM skill is moving spotlight time around to players who have had less time. Really good players do this too. Pass the ball.

4) Learn what rules apply to you, to smooth the game, not derail it.

To stress, this isn’t “come to the table knowing everything” but learning the rules that are relevant to your character along the way, especially if they are marginal (looking at you, Grappling and Alchemy rules). Doing otherwise adds to the facilitator’s cognitive load and hurts the game’s flow. The flip is being aware that knowing stuff isn’t an excuse to break the game’s flow with a rules debate either – that’s an extension of the third principle.

5) Make choices which support other characters’ reality

If someone’s playing a scary bastard, treat them like a scary bastard. If they’re meant to be the leader, have your character treat them like the leader , for better or worse. A fictional reality is shared, and you construct it together.

6) Ensure The Group Understands Who Your Character Is

This is the flip of the above – having a character conception that is clear enough that everyone gets who you are, what you want to do and how you want to do it. If you don’t, the table will be incapable of supporting your choices. This links to…

7) If asked a preference in a story game, a strong choice is almost always better than a middling choice.

Don’t equivocate. If asked “You’ve met this person before. How do you feel about him?” either “I love him” or “I hate him” is better than anything middling. The exception is if it’s something you’re really not interested in pursuing.

[yaksha-lover]

I know there’s a lot of debate about whether Malleus could ever actually be with someone like Yuu, considering he is a fae and prince, but the more I think about it the more it feels plausible. While there’s most likely never going to be any canon romances in the game, I think it’s an interesting discussion. Keep in mind this is just my opinion!

We know about the fae-human war that occurred in Briar Valley before Malleus was born (the one that Lilia fought in). Lilia has talked before about wanting there to be peace and understanding between humans and fae.

Well, what would be a better way to do this than uniting the two groups through a royal marriage between a human and a fae? Irl, this kind of marriage does have historical precedent. This union allows both parties to come together and witness specifically the ruler of their nation forgo any prejudice for the other group by sharing this deeply personal relationship.

Even though a lot of fae may look down upon humans and vice versa (probably similar attitudes to Sebek), if the King of Briar Valley were to marry a human, it would facilitate both political and social change amongst both groups. Families and relationships like Sebek’s parents (human-fae) would probably become much more common and socially-acceptable

Furthermore, the next royal heir would be of both fae and human descent, making them more appealing to both parties (aside from those who would remain prejudiced against half-fae like Sebek).

Lilia speaks of how a constant inability to compromise led to such conflict as the war. Marriage is pretty much the ultimate compromise to tie the two groups together. There will be incentive for both human and fae to support the royals of Briar Valley. The political change would hopefully be having everyone be allies, of this being the thing that makes them actually sit down and have political discussions instead of going straight to war. This would hopefully only facilitate more compromise and unity between the two factions, with them being able to support each other with resources and trade, for example.

The catch is that some of these benefits would likely only apply if the human Malleus married was chosen by the humans in Briar Valley who previously fought against the crown/fae. This is difficult because (as of now) we don’t have much knowledge of any such powerful (human) political opponent groups, or if they even exist after the war.

I think it would still generally be beneficial for him to marry a human (probably one of another kingdom I suppose is another solution). Marrying Yuu specifically may be difficult because of them being of ‘low-birth’ in the eyes of snobbish royals (it seems like Briar Valley is still a feudalist society) and being magicless, but I’m not sure those things are deal breakers.

Another problem that arises is the difference in lifespan, but (and this might be cope) but I like to think the Draconia family would have access to something that would make extending an otherwise healthy person’s life possible (whether magic, magical artifacts, etc.).

I honestly doubt Malleus’ grandmother would really deny him the choice of who he marries after everything that’s happened in his life. Also just like…realistically, who’s going to stop him? Malleus will be King and he also has his magic to back him up, so it’s not like any advisors can say no and his grandmother doesn’t have any other family members so she can’t threaten to disinherit him.

Plus, I don’t think there’s evidence to say that he would necessarily be forced to have a very specifically arranged marriage with any other kingdoms right now. I doubt Malleus is down to marry any of the other powerful royals or families (Leona, Kalim, etc.).

So it’s not really like he’s necessarily making a fatal mistake in ruling by not gaining an essential alliance through marriage. Sure, he probably couldn’t marry just anyone, but I think there is a case to be made for him marrying a human (and perhaps Yuu in some alternate timeline where twst is a dating sim).

[fungal-rot]

Pure Instinct - Surrender

okay so i've been seeing those tiktok ads about that Pure-Instinct perfume and I had A Thot- it was originally supposed to go a different route, but i kinda went everywhere with this LOL.

summary: no outbreak; you bought a new perfume, one that's supposed to entice the opposite sex. but just how well does it actually work?

warnings: MDNI- smut (unprotected p-in-v), joel being a bit of a horndog, semi-desperate sex, oral (f receiving), use of 'good girl' and pet names (darlin', baby, pretty girl, honey), a bit of bulge riding, slight dom!joel, established relationship, no age specification for reader- lemme know if i forgot anything! - also please note i’m getting back into writing. i’m a lil rusty and still getting back into the flow of things; apologies for any mistakes.

w.c.: 2.7k

    ⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

All over the internet you've come across different videos advertising some 'pheromone perfume-' a blend of essential oils that are meant to work with your own natural scent, enhancing your body's pheromones- or something of the sort. Seeing the men become infatuated with their girlfriends and wives, clinging to them with lust-blown pupils certainly had your interest piqued.

After an- albeit, quick- internal debate with yourself, you bit the bullet and looked up the seller's site, coming across different smells like 'Crave,' 'Lucky,' 'Fallen-'

And 'Surrender.'

Sounds sexy. With a smirk you click on it, reading the description,

'Surrender has a sophisticated and mature scent which designed for the woman who wants to feel confident, beautiful, and sensual. Own any room you enter in. You won't just be noticed — you'll make heads turn. Sexy, but not vulgar.'

Sounds dominant.

There were different layers of notes, like magnolia, mandarin, vanilla, sandalwood; the list went on. Seemed like a good choice. You were about to add it to your cart, finger hovering over the button, but then you hesitated. Did you really need this? Was it that important to find out if it was worth the hype? To see if Joel would be unable to tear himself away from you, kissing you hungrily while ripping your clothes off an-

Added to your cart!

It was for science.

You even opted to pay extra for express shipping, heart racing with a giddy bite of your lip.

The day it arrived, you were practically bouncing on your feet with glee. Joel was at work, wouldn't be home for another hour or so. That meant you had plenty of time to get things together and play around with it.

Taking a quick shower then pulling a low cut shirt over your head and shimmying a pair of leggings on, you grabbed your little container of liquid-luck, rolling it over your heat points; a little between your breasts, behind your ears, along the crook of your neck, wrists, and fold of your arms. It definitely smelled alluring upon first apply. Now to let it dry and wait.

-

Keys jingled outside the door, the knob twisting a few times before the entrance swung open followed by a rather exhausted looking Joel Miller who stumbled through. The man heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his keys into the dish and toed of his shoes before padding to the couch where you sat, pushing your cuticles back as you watched a rerun of Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.

"Hi, sugar," you greet, flicking your eyes to him as he flopped down, making you bounce softly. His hair was damp with sweat from being out in the hot Texas sun all day, thick veins protruding from his work-callused hands, trailing up his arm.

"Hm," he grunted in reply and placed his palms over his eyes as he leaned against the back of the couch, chest expanding with a deep breath only to falter for a split second. Joel took in another breath, this one loud and deliberate. With hands lowering from his face, he turned his head to you, slowly, with knit brows.

"D'ya smell that?" He asked, sniffing again with a curious glance of the room.

Now, you had to play this right. You couldn't just outright tell him you bought perfume that would have him slobbering all over you, no. That would defeat the purpose of your little experiment.

So instead you played coy and sniffed at the air just as he did, nose turning up with a gentle shake of your head and small bob of your shoulders.

"I don't smell anything."

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing with a slight slack of his jaw, tongue poking through the side of his teeth while he studied you.

"You don't smell that?" Joel pressed further, almost exasperatedly.

"Smell what, Joel?" A quiet titter sounded with your words, brows arching as an amused grin toyed at your lips.

"Jus'..." Joel trailed off, wetting his lip with a quick swipe of his tongue. The scent wasn't too overbearing. It was sweet, musky, and a hint of something so conversant. Something that always managed to get him hot under the collar. A heat that not even the dry summers he endured on a frequent basis could compare to.

That's when you leaned over him- totally not at all planned- reaching an arm past to grab one of the magazines on the end table. Joel drew another quick breath and it hit him. Before you could retreat he snatched your wrist with a tight grip, pupils dilated widely with parted lips. " 'S' you..." He murmured, attention solely on you and you alone.

The corner of your mouth twitched up into a smug smirk, "Is it?" You hushed back, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin as he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist, slowly trailing up your arm and to your shoulder. A curt chuckle sounded from his chest as his own lips turned up. "Mm, I think so, baby," Now his lips danced on the crook of your neck, taking another whiff.

'Oh, fuck, that's good.' He thought, emitting a low growl.

"Yeah..." He purred, teeth grazing over your pulse point and eliciting a quiet moan from you, "that's alllll you, darlin'."

Hell, if Joel was tired before, he was certainly up now- in more ways than one.

"C'mere, pretty girl," He muttered and sat back, legs spread as he motioned two fingers in your direction. He watched with hungry intent as you crawled into his lap, thighs straddling his. Joel pawed at your hips, rolling them forward against the bulge straining in the confinements of his jeans with a grunt.

"Got me so damn hard an' ya haven't even done anything," With another forced roll, he throws his head back with a sigh. "Ride." He ordered with a strained voice, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You didn't move just yet, however, and took in the sight of him; eyes shut and brows knitted softly, plush lips parted.

"Ride," Joel repeated with a firm smack to the meat of your ass, making you yelp and rut against him once more. You could feel the warm thickness of his cramped length through the thin cloth of your leggings, each continuous grind against your clit made you writhe in pleasure.

Good god, you were doing a number on him. He bucked his hips up in time with yours, panting faintly before sitting up and wrapping his thick, strong arms around your body.

Joel buried his nose into your neck again, allowing your enticing scent to flood his mind. His stomach tightened, and he had to pull you off his lap before he came in his underwear like a damn teen. You whine at the loss of friction, expression forming a soft pout as he laid you down, head against the armrest.

"I know, baby, I know," Joel cooed and tenderly cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, " 'M gonna take care'a ya." He leaned down and planted a quick peck to the side of your nose.

"Always do, don't I?"

The man lowered himself down your body, hands stopping to caress and grab every now and then before slipping his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, swiftly tugging them down and watched as a string of arousal pulled, connecting the fabric to your lips. He smirked, relishing the fact you were just as turned on as he was, but what really caught his attention was-

"No panties?" He quirked a brow, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face as he continued shimmying you out of your pants. "Y'had this planned, didn't ya?"

You chuckled, biting your lip meekly and avert your gaze. Whoops! Caught.

"So, what is it?" He asked, curling a leg into the couch as the other planted on the floor, his head dipping to your center and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inner crease of your hip.

"Surrender," You answered breathily, peering down at him as continued lavishing you with loving smooches and pecks, his wiry facial hair scratching at your body that only fanned the flames in your tummy.

His brows drew together with a vague frown as he lifted his head, "Whaddya think I'm tryin' ta do right now?"

Even though his words made you clench around nothing, you still couldn't help but laugh and bring a hand to your mouth to stop yourself. With a shake of your head you say, "No, dummy. I mean, that's the name of the perfume I bought."

Joel tilted his head back in a slight nod, uttering a soft 'Ohhh.'

"I dunno how I was s'posed ta know that," his head lowered once more, breath fanning over your wet heat and flicked his eyes to meet yours, "but it's fitting."

He didn't even give you a chance to process what he said before diving straight into your folds, tongue lapping over every crevice and drinking you down.

"O-oh, fu-fuck!" You breathed out, thighs instinctively closing around his head as your hand grasped at his sweat-matted brown hair.

He growled into your cunt, bracing his hands on either side of the soft, pillowy flesh of your legs and forcing you open again. Normally, Joel loved using them as his own personal pair of earmuffs, but now? He wanted you spread for him, needed it actually. He'd drown in you if he could, and by god he'd willingly die trying.

His mouth detached for a moment, just long enough for him to stick out his tongue and let a string of drool fall over your labia, watching with a satisfied smirk as it slid down to your entrance. Snaking a hand from under your thigh, he brought two fingers to your clit, brushing the pads of them over it with teasing glides. Your hips twitched and bucked with a soft mewl leaving your throat.

Joel dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his fingers. Down, down, then circling at your hole and slowly pushing in. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest, back arching as you finally got that stretch; so achingly sweet.

His cock twitched at the sound, begging to be let free and seek shelter deep inside your pussy. He had enough restraint (for now) to get you off first.

And they say chivalry is dead...

He latched his mouth back onto you, slurping obscenely as he licked his way up, fingers curling into the spongy spot of your canal.

"Jo- oh- el!" You cried his name brokenly, hand closing a tight fist into his hair with a tug. You could feel the fucker- no pun intended- smirk against you as he pumped his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as he suckled on the sensitive button. Your whines grew more relentless, hips rolling against the flat of his tongue and holding his head in place as the coil in your stomach began to tighten.

Joel felt you clench around his fingers and took that, along with the way you fervently bumped against the bridge of his nose, as a sign you were close. With a wince he reached his free hand to his jeans, fumbling with the button before sliding the fly down, reaching in and finally pulling out his hard cock.

Said hand went back to its rightful place against your thigh while he rutted against the cushions, pre-cum making a mess into the leather.

"C'mon, darlin'," He murmured, taking a quick glance at you and reveled in the sight of your flushed cheeks, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against the arm rest. "Give it t'me, cum around my fingers." You didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, that coil snapped. Your legs trembled and shook as your climax ripped through your body, eyes snapping open and mouth agape, but no sound came out other than a few breathy whimpers.

"Good girl," Joel praised, still subtly grinding against the couch, desperate for his own release. "Good fuckin' girl." You had made a complete mess of his hand, your spend dripping down his fingers, into his palm and down his wrist, dribbling onto the sofa.

After your body relaxed, hand releasing the harsh grip from his hair, Joel pulled his fingers from you, making a shudder run up your spine. He sat back on his haunches, pushing his hand to your mouth and said, "Open."

Complying happily in your blissed-out state, your jaw slacked, allowing him to slide his soaked fingers into you warm mouth, palming himself with his other hand while he watched your lips close around the digits, feeling your tongue lick and clean your slick off them.

With a satisfied hum, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, greedily shoving his way past your teeth and licking the roof of your mouth.

Joel backed away, staring deep into your eyes. He huffed, pulling his pants down further, stepping out of one leg. He was so fucking horny and desperate right now he wasn't going to bother with the other one. This would do just fine.

"Need t'fuck you, baby," He spoke in a hushed tone, and without further warning he grabbed your leg and hooked it around his waist just before sliding right in with ease.

The two of you moan in unison. Either he was fucking huge- spoiler, he was- or you were really fucking tight.

Joel collapsed, a hand splayed next to your head to catch himself so he wouldn't fall directly on top of you as he bared his teeth with a hiss.

"Chris' onna damn bike," He slurred, gently lowering himself further and snaking an arm under you as he lazily thrusted into you.

He glanced down to where you two met, watching as he delved in further, "She's jus' swallowin' me in."

An aquiline nose sought out your neck, the sound of Joel consuming your scent filled your ears once more. He simply couldn't get enough. Hips snapped against yours incessantly, skin against skin bouncing off the walls and drowning out the sound of the tv in the background.

The man above reached a hand under your shirt, groping and squeezing your tit as he lowered his forehead to yours, half-lidded eyes boring into yours intently.

"Fuck," He muttered, eyes widening, hips stuttering, "Fuck, 'm close." Joel was a little ashamed of himself. He couldn't remember the last time he made it to the finish line so quickly.

He was quick to remove his hand from under your shirt, finger dipping to the spot where his cock pumped in and out, collecting your slick before sliding it up to your puffy clit yet again.

"Y'think you can gimme another'n, honey?"

"Y-yeah," You nod, feeling that familiar flame lick up your spine. "Wanna cum on your cock."

Joel's lip curled into a snarl at your admission, eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. His movements blundered, then he pulled out, leaving just the tip slotted in your entrance.

"Please," he whined. Whined.

That fucking did it. Your body tightened for the second time this evening, eager to let go and milk Joel of every last drop he had to offer.

"I'm c-" He interjected with a slam of his hips, making you see stars as he fucked you through your orgasm, the head of his dick tapping your cervix as he pushed himself as deep as he could, jerking into you almost feverishly. Your name fell off his tongue like a mantra while he held you flush against him, your back peeling off the leather with arms wrapped around his back as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky, sweaty scent of him- your personal favorite brand of 'pheromone perfume' he wears.

After his body lightened, he turned his head and placed a listless, yet tender kiss to your temple. You made a move to crawl away, but that made his grip on you tighten.

"Not yet," he spoke lowly and leaned back, pulling you with him. "Wanna stay like this. Jus' for a minute."

His hand smoothed back your hair, the two of you laid there in silence to catch your breath. After a good ten minutes or so, you lift your head to peek at him, "So, I take it you liked the perfume?"

Joel offered a lopsided smile, rolling his head to the side with a swallow, "Loved it, darlin'."

You'd have to remember to buy more in the future.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

hi, hello, thank you for reading. as stated above, i’m still basically re-learning to write. i’m trying to get in the hang of properly pacing out the story, not too rushed but not too wordy either. feedback is appreciated! pls feel free to interact with a reblog or comment <3

[luvjunie]

— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

[nahoney22]

Massage Therapy*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

word count: 4.5k

prompts: none

Tech gives you a massage, what else could possibly happen?

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content and Language. Oral Sex ie blowjob, Fingering, P in V Sex, Nudity, Dirty Talk, Soft!Dom Tech, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Petnames, Oil Massage, Consensual Sex, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Kissing, Multiple Positions, Slightly Rough Sex, Spanking, Teasing, Flirting, Cum Denial, Creampie, Slight Possessive Tech, Not Proof Read, a bit Messy.

A/N: Total self indulge fic and tech has a big [REDACTED]

Reblog to support content creators. 🫧🌊

“What is so amusing?”

The Marauder hummed softly in the background as the team sat around, recuperating after a somewhat successful mission. Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, and Tech were sharing tactics and strategies and Tech was detailing the mission’s success. More to the point of explaining how his calculations had been spot on. But, you couldn’t help but chuckle, grabbing his attention.

“I’m just saying, Tech, your calculations might be great, but sometimes you overlook the obvious,” you teased.

Tech raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think that is the case. My assessments are thorough.”

“Oh really?” you challenged, stepping closer with a smirk. He gazes up at you from his spot, slightly wide-eyed. “I am sorry to tell you that you missed the part where the droids’ power cells were defective, which is why they were so easy to defeat.”

Tech frowned, his mind already processing your claim. “I accounted for their reduced efficiency due to age of creation, but… I didn’t specifically check for defective power cells.” He recalls quietly, pinching his chin.

Hunter and the others watched with amusement as the debate unfolded. “Sounds like a bet’s brewing,” Hunter said with a grin, leaning back in his seat.

You grinned back. “Alright, Tech, let’s make it interesting. If I’m right, you owe me a favour. And if you’re right, I’ll help with the repairs to the Marauder for a week.”

Tech considered this, the prospect of additional help appealing, especially from you, though he was confident in his calculations. “Very well, it’s a bet.”

Wrecker chuckled. “This is gonna be good.”

Tech pulled up the data on his datapad, scrolling through the information with practiced ease like he’s done this a million times before. You stand behind him, arms crossed and truthfully quite smugly-confident. After a few moments, you watch as his face fell. “It appears you are correct. The power cells were indeed defective.”

Echo clapped Tech on the shoulder. “Looks like you owe her, Tech.”

Tech simply nodded. “It seems so. I will fulfill my end of the bet.” He swivels in his chair to face you. “What is it you require?”

You ponder for a moment, not really thinking that far forward. “Undecided. But I’ll get back to you.” You say with a wink before walking away.

Tech watches you leave, swallowing hard but refusing to let the strange strain of his emotions show in front of the others.

If only you knew how you make him feel. Then again, perhaps you would be able to tell him how you are making him feel. Fluttering in the stomach when your name is mentioned in passing? Clammy hands when you talk to him? A small wave of arousal just when you’re near?

But surprisingly welcome.

It was new.

A few hours later, the others had dispersed to do their own thing whether to go to Cid’s or a walk which left just you and Tech alone.

Tech approached you after staring at you silently for the last minute or so, his usual confidence tinged with a hint of awkwardness. “Have you decided yet?”

You jumped a little, not hearing him approach initially but smile at him as you face him. “I was only teasing Tech, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“On the contrary. You asked for something from me after proving me wrong which is a rarity, so I will do what you ask.”

As he was speaking, you felt a slight pain in your shoulder that had been bugging you for a few days now which spurred on an idea. “Well… there is something you can do for me.” You say sheepishly, taking a step towards him.

The proximity suddenly made him clam up, his fists tightening behind his back as your eyes and the smell of you captivated him. Your lips are moving but he isn’t processing what you’re really saying. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, “what did you say?”

“I said you could maybe give me a massage?” You say quickly, realising how personal that sounded. “Only if you feel comfortable. It’s just I have a few knots that I feel like you could tend to.”

Tech hesitates, giving massages was definitely not his forte or something he spent researching but for you? He felt like he would do anything these days. “If i can help relieve your pain I shall do it. Albeit I can not promise groundbreaking results.”

You giggle, eyes creasing at the corners and nose scrunching. Tech had never described anything as ‘cute’ before and probably never will; however, your laughter was something he always found rather endearing and admittedly… cute.

“Really? That’d be great. Do you want to do it now since the others aren’t here?”

“That is fine with me, let me get prepared and I’ll come find you.” Tech confirms, reaching for his device to do a quick research on techniques to massages.

After doing his frantic search, Tech set up a fold-away table that was typically used for emergency medical purposes and called you over. You emerge, now having changed into some shorts and tank top and look at the table in surprise.

“Please, lie down,” he instructed.

“Gettin’ the full treatment, am I? I feel special.” You tease, hopping onto the table as you watch Tech move about.

“If you require a calming and thorough massage it is only right that I do it properly.” He says simply but hopes the slight waver of nerves in his tone didn’t show as he turns to face you, holding a bottle of what looked to be body oil. “I found this among Echo’s things. I thought it might enhance the experience.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused and quite excited. “Echo’s, huh? Do you think he will mind?”

“I was not going to plan on telling him.” Tech announced as he poured some of the oil into his bare hands, warming it before you lay down, head on a small pillow made out of the boy's spare tops.

You positioned yourself comfortably, lying face up and watch as Tech’s hands hovered over your body, as if he was unsure where to start.

“You can start with my shoulders,” you suggested gently, easing him into it.

Tech nodded, placing his hands on your shoulders and beginning to knead the tension of both this situation and your ache away. His touch was non-surprisingly gentle yet firm, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as he worked on a particularly tight knot.

“You do appear very tense,” Tech observed, his voice tinged with modest concern.

The sensation of his hands on your skin was both soothing and electrifying. The oil, scented of lavender, made your skin glisten under the dim lighting of the ship. Each stroke, knead, sent waves of relaxation through your body, yet you couldn’t help but wonder if there was an underlying current of something more intimate and exciting afoot. You try to push the lewd thoughts away and focus back on Tech.

“Yeah, missions for Cid usually do that to a person,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

As the massage continued, you felt your muscles relaxing under Tech’s skilled hands. He moved down to your arms, taking his time to work out every knot and kink and even took his time on each of your hands, adding more oil to your skin which feels dry.

“You’ve done this before, I refuse to believe otherwise.” You sigh, eyes still closed and occasionally, you let out soft sounds of pleasure, unable to help yourself.

You don’t hear or see it but Tech’s breath hitched slightly each time you made a sound, and he could sense his growing arousal pressing against his pants.

After a few minutes or so, his mind doesn’t process like it usually does because out of nowhere he says, “If you are comfortable, you can remove your clothes.”

Your eyes open quickly, looking directly up into his, squinting to see his reaction behind his goggles. “Remove my clothes?”

“I…I only meant…” you watch him as he struggles to force out an answer but you take pity on him because you couldn’t deny, the idea did slightly turn you on.

Tech was adorably sweet in your eyes and you knew - also thanks to the other boys teasing - he felt something for you. You didn’t believe it at first because he was always the same around you. Though the more you paid attention, the more it clicked together like a puzzle piece. When does Tech ever stumble over his words? When is he ever usually wrong? When has he ever offered to give someone a nude, oily massage?

Naturally, you felt something for him too. You were just a bit better at hiding it than he was.

“Will you place a towel over my, you know?”

“Yes, of course. It is just for a more in-depth massage.” He clears his throat, finding his voice again and genuinely surprised you were going to go ahead with this.

You flushed but nodded, trusting him. You wait until he turns around before you remove your clothes, lying back down as Tech passed you a towel which you draped over yourself. “May I proceed?”

“Sure,” you nod as you close your eyes, allowing his hands to resume their work and starting with your legs. He is certainly a quick learner because his fingers knead the muscles with precision and as he glides higher towards your thighs, you feel his touch become more deliberate.

You take a peek at him with one eye, watching him secretly and you were certain he was looking at you with a look you had never witnessed before.

He looked starved. Tempted. Lustful.

Ever so discreetly, you part your legs just an inch, allowing his hands to work on the inner sides of your thighs. You try to control your breathing but the slight rush of wind that hits your core as his hands zoom past was hard to ignore.

He climbed higher and higher until you comfortably moved your legs further open, the towel still giving you your dignity yet you were sure it was about to roll off the table and down the gangplank.

The side of his hands were just inches away from touching your pussy and you waited with bated breath, wondering if he dared to cross the line… but he never did.

You peek at him again, watching him shake his head at himself as if he was scolding himself for thinking of doing something.

“Tech,” you breathed out, closing your eyes fully so he didn’t catch you looking at him, “you can massage my br- torso. You can massage my torso if you want.”

He moves round the table, standing at your side. Looking at the towel that covered your nude body, he feels a burn in his own as his mouth starts to salivate. “Will you be comfortable with me removing your towel in that case?”

With a mumble of clarification, Tech’s hands trembled slightly as he moved the towel aside. His gaze looked at your face first, analysing your reaction and was relieved to see that you didn’t seem to mind what was happening.

He looks away from you for a moment, grabbing the bottle of oil again and then gazes upon your chest, most notably your breasts.

He bites on his tongue to stop from making a noise as he slowly pours the oil over your hardening nipples before his fingers begin tracing the curves of your breasts, rubbing the oil in.

His touch was gentle this time, yet it sent waves of pleasure through your body. He stands behind your head, leaning over you as his hands caress and respectfully fondle your tits but his eyes? They were on your face, watching your reactions intently.

You couldn’t help it but your breathing gets heavier, your fingers gripping onto the edge of the either side of the table as his thumbs briefly kiss your nipples, the heat between your legs throbbing with an intensity that you wanted to whimper his name.

“Your skin is incredibly soft,” Tech murmured, his voice husky with arousal as he cups your breasts together, kneading gently into them.

You arched into his touch, your breathing ragged. “Tech… please, don’t stop.”

Your reaction nearly makes his knees buckle, he recognised this behaviour from many porn holovids he watched in secret. You were turned on and he was the reason for it.

He continued just like you wanted, not letting his ego explode, his hands exploring your body further with growing confidence. The massage was easily becoming increasingly steamy, your soft moans of enjoyment encouraging him further that the tent in his pants was starting to hurt.

Skillfully, his hands moved lower, exploring the expanse of your stomach, then to your hips, and finally to your inner soft and pillowy thighs. “You’re so good at this.” You whisper, biting your lip.

“Turn over, please,” Tech instructed, his voice a low and husky command.

You complied, turning onto your stomach. Tech again has to suppress his wanton noises as his eyes land on your arse. You could feel his gaze linger which silently makes you smirk. There’s a mix of admiration and professionalism in his eyes and he doesn’t know how to function for a moment. “Any pain in your back I should be aware of?” He asks, oiling his hands up once again.

“I get a small ache in my lower back sometimes.” You reply, speech slightly muffled as you lay your head flat on its side.

“Hopefully I can help with that.” He whispers, his hands landing on the area you said and gives you slow and purposeful strokes.

The sensation of his hands on your bare skin was incredibly intimate, and you felt yourself growing damp with arousal. Tech's touch was almost reverent, as if he was in awe of your body. It’s not long until his hands move to your arse, massaging you perfectly.

Your lip almost bleeds with how many times you bite down onto it but you couldn’t help the shivers that tingles your body. His professionalism was evident, but the effect he was having on you was undeniable. “Do you like this?”

“I’m definitely not going to say no,” you utter with a soft laugh, soon groaning as both of his hands knead at your left cheek.

As Tech moved around the table to work at your body at a different angle, you caught a glimpse of the clear arousal pitched in his pants.

The sight sent a thrill through you, knowing that your reactions and your body were affecting him just as much. Despite his aching erection, he maintained his composure, focusing on giving you the best massage possible and for that you were immensely grateful for. Though, you wouldn’t mind the latter.

His hands moved to your thighs one more, working their magic as he massages up and down each leg with a slow, intricate touch that makes you breathe out soft moans of delight. “Those are some rather seductive sounds you’re making, I have to say.”

Did he just flirt with you? Or was he just stating the obvious as usual? Perhaps it was both.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” you say softly, propping yourself up on your elbows and look back at him, “you’re good with your hands.”

He stills, meeting your flirtatious gaze and has to fight every willpower he has not to palm himself infront of you, the ache in his pants throbbing and begging for release. “There is no need to apologise,” he says slowly. His hands are inching their way up your legs and ever so gently begins to spread your cheeks.

Your lips part, watching him as he locks eyes with your glistening pussy and you felt a surge of arousal as he uses two fingers to brush up between them, his touch feather-light and teasing.

“T-Tech,” you rasp, fingers gripping onto the table as he runs his fingers up and down your slicked entrance.

“Can I massage you here? I am positive there is quite a lot of tension that needs to be released.”

You nod fervently, biting your lip before you let out the most sinful cry of pleasure.

He paused for a moment to get your answer, then slowly, deliberately, he hooked a finger inside you.

The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, a mix of slick and rhythmic. His movements were slow at first, teasing, then gradually quickened, each thrust making your body shiver. Your arse jiggled slightly with each movement, adding to the allure of him finger-fucking you.

“You’re incredibly wet,” Tech remarked, his voice a mix of awe and satisfaction. “It’s pleasing to know you’re enjoying this.”

You could barely form a coherent response, your body trembling with desire as you buried your head into the table. “Tech… please, more.”

His fingers began to explore you more deeply, each movement, twisting, curling and pumping inside you. You moaned louder, your hands gripping the edges of the table as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy of one of many orgasms.

Tech moved to your side, and you seized the opportunity, reaching out to grab his cock through his pants. “Maker you feel so big,” you gasp in pleasant surprise, massaging it through the fabric, feeling its hardness and the heat radiating from it. His breath hitched, and he groaned softly.

“You may have the pleasure of having a look and a taste if that would satisfy you.”

With a swift motion, you pulled down his pants, freeing his cock without a second thought. You had to move your head back slightly so it didn’t slap you in your face and gaze at his member in awe.

“Looks so good…” you moan to yourself as you bring his tip to your mouth, teasing it with your tongue before taking him in. Tech’s fingers never stopped their rhythm inside you, and he began to thrust gently into your mouth, his cock moving in and out with a steady pace.

You slurp and suck on his cock like a woman starved, your hand gripping the shaft as you pump it back and forth while he rocks into your mouth.

“You look so cock-hungry. Has your pretty mouth and pussy been neglected for so long?” You never thought you’d hear these words pour out of his mouth but here you both were, you with his aching cock between your lips and his fingers deep and wet inside you. “Have your needs been met?”

The sensation was intoxicating, his fingers moving inside you while his cock filled your mouth, your reply a muffled and spit covered ‘yes’. You could feel him trembling, his control slipping as he thrust deeper, the corner of your lips stretching with a pleasurable pull.

You moved back onto your back, positioning yourself with your head tilted to the side so you could continue sucking his cock. Tech’s hands were everywhere, one playing with your oiled nipples, rolling and pinching them lightly, while the other massaged your clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself building to another climax as stars blur your vision.

Tech’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He groaned your name, panting like a whore, his voice filled with desire. “I can’t… I’m going to…”

Before he could finish, he pulled out of your mouth with urgency, his eyes dark with lust. “I have to have you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with need.

You watched with wide and lusting eyes as he moved to the bottom of the table, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. In one swift motion, he pulled you close to him, your legs dangling off the edge. His cock, hard and throbbing, pressed against your exposed entrance. The anticipation was electric, your body quivering with need.

“Tech, please,” you whispered, your voice burning with desperation.

He needed no further encouragement. He grabs his cock, slipping it up and down between your folds, tapping it against your clit to watch your desperate whimpers of want before he pushes into you, filling you completely.

“Oh fuck! Tech!” You cried out in pleasure, your body arching against him as your head fell back. The sensation of his cock stretching you was overwhelming, and you gripped his arms, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves because after all, he wasn’t even naked himself.

“Maker, your cunt is so tight,” Tech groaned, his voice strained with pleasure, “do not worry darling, you will adjust.”

He began to move, each thrust deep and powerful, slamming into you with an urgency that left you panting with breath. He pushes his goggles up to rest against his forehead, having steamed up from the erotic heat and then watched intently, eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into you with each thrust.

“I do not think I will fit inside you completely,” he chuckles, “but I’ll make do.” his voice was husky and he looked you in the eyes.”

“You are mine,” he groans, his hands running up and down your thighs as he stills inside you, keeping his cock warm. “Stars, I have been wanting to see how you look whilst getting wonderfully fucked by my cock.”

Your eyes locked onto his, the intensity of the moment binding you together. “Tech… it’s so big,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know. But you are doing exceptionally well my dear… tell me how good it feels,” he demanded, his pace quickening. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, it’s so deep,” you cried out, your voice breaking as he begins to move his hips again. “It feels so good baby,”

Tech let out a loud groan at the pet name, legs like jelly. “I could get used to you calling me that.”

“Your body is incredible,” Tech groaned, his hands gripping your fleshy thighs tighter. “It should be cherished. Your pussy is perfect. I’ve imagined you wedged on my cock for a long time. And now you’re mine. My brothers will never get the chance to fuck you as good as I do.”

“I’ll only want you, Tech,” you gasped, your body trembling with pleasure. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Tech’s hands move to your waist, his grip almost bruising as he pounded into you. “I am going to fill you up,” he moaned, his voice low and feral as his deep-rooted kink for breeding you surfaces. “I’m going to spill my seed inside you, and you’re going to take it all.”

The thought sent a shiver of pure pleasure through your body, and you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as your pussy gets pounded. “Yes, Tech! please, I need your hot cum so badly.” you begged, voice a desperate plea as sweat drips down your body.

Tech’s thrusts became erratic, his control slipping as he neared his own high. His fingers moved to your clit, pinching and flicking it in time with his thrusts. The added sensation made you sob with pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably. “Shit oh - holy - fuck,” you’re mewling pathetically, watching half of his cock disappear inside of you.

He leaned over you, pinning you to the table, his face inches from yours. “Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice rough with need. You comply without a second thought, your lips crashing together in a desperate, hot kiss. He lets go of you, hands holding on the table as it rocked back and forth as he buries himself in and out of you.

Just as you were about to fall over into blissful release, Tech pulled out, making you whimper at the loss. “N-no, no why?”

You watch with hazy eyes as he starts to stroke himself, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Beg for my cock,” he commanded, his eyes heavy with hunger. “Tell me how much you need it.”

“Please, baby, Tech, I need you,” you pleaded, your voice desperate. “I need your cock inside me. Fuck me again, please.”

Satisfied, Tech pulled you off the table and turned you around, bending you over. He lifted one of your legs to rest on the table, angling your body perfectly. “This position will allow for deeper penetration,” he explained, his voice tinged with anticipation. “I shall be able to hit that sweet spot inside you perfectly.”

With that, he thrust back into you, his cock driving deep and hitting just the right spot. You gasp out in pleasure, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support. “Yes, Tech, right there,” you moaned. “It feels so good.”

“Good girl,” Tech groaned, his pace relentless. “Take it all my darling.”

His large, veiny cock buried deep inside you, hitting every sensitive spot. He reached forward to spank your arse, making it bounce with every thrust. “So receptive.”

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, Tech flipped you onto your back again, lifting your legs to dangle off his shoulders. He pounded into you with renewed vigor, his pace becoming erratic as he felt himself ready to give you everything.

“I’m going to cum,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “You will be so full.”

“Yes, Tech, do it,” you urged, your voice breathless as you move your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit to match him. “I need it so much.”

With a final, loud thrust, Tech buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came. The sensation pushed you into another orgasm, your body trembling with pleasure.

For a moment, the galaxy seemed to stand still, the only sounds were the heavy breathing and soft moans of pleasure. As Tech slowly pulled out, you felt his warm cum slip out of you and you watch in awe as he collected it on his fingers and, with a possessive look, pushed it back inside you.

“I want every drop to stay inside you,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I want you to remember this.”

The sensation of his fingers inside you, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, made you shiver. “I won’t forget,” you whispered.

Tech leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. “You are incredible,” he murmured against your lips. “I never imagined…”

“Me neither,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m glad it happened.”

Tech pulled you into a gentle embrace, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both feeling connected in a way you hadn’t before. “I… I hope I did not hurt you.”

“No, not at all.” You reply with a comforting smile, “I’m just dazed.”

He smiles, pulling his goggles back down after wiping them clear. “As you could probably tell, I always had feelings for you,” he admitted softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to express them.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I feel the same way, Tech. And not going to lie, I think I’ve always known.”

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🌊 Masterlist is pinned on profile🌊

[starbylers]

After spending some time listening and re-listening and thinking a lot, I think I finally have my head wrapped around all these songs. This post is an exploration of what they could tell us about Mike’s story, and also a sort of theory I noticed once I saw the full picture. This playlist is—in my opinion—the story we’ve been theorising for the past two years reflected in 12 songs. That might sound hyperbolic but it’s simply what I heard and interpreted, and wanted to share because I enjoyed writing it. I hope this is an interesting read!

If you didn’t see my last post about why I do believe this is Finn’s Mike/ST playlist despite the somewhat ambiguous title you can read that here. It’s totally okay if you disagree but I’m not interested in debating it, and this analysis is coming from a perspective of assuming we've guessed correctly that the playlist relates to ST (obviously we can't 1000% verify that, but for the purposes of this post that’s my stance).

I’m going to focus on themes and overall meanings in the songs because in my opinion that’s where any connections are going to lie, rather than specific lines holding anything important (aside from a few which I’ll highlight) because I feel like that’s closest to how Finn would’ve thought while making it. Basically a macro level representation of Mike and what he goes through next season, something that would help a person get into the headspace of a character. Oh and my larger point is about the playlist as a whole, which will come together at the end :)

➠ Track 1 | Ballad of the Texas King

The first song is an anomaly in that I think it’s meant to set the tone more than anything else. These explain better than I could hope to:

"Itʼs a murder ballad, and as is common in murder ballads, deals with promise and innocence being snuffed out.” [link]

"Clarke sings of a chance encounter with an ominous figure that feels akin to selling your soul at the crossroads" [link]

Hey kid come along, something is wrong, I believe you now / All this to say only one way that this can go / Come with us for a ride / Don’t it feel like hell? Boy let me tell you, that’s where you are

• • •

A nice little coincidence, Finn himself is quoted as saying season 5 is a “crossroads”. I can see this song being an allusion to inevitable big choices with life-altering consequences next season, and also more mature themes being tackled within Mike’s story. I mean he’s stepping back into his role as leader, and now they’re older that will come with a lot more weight and responsibility in situations where the fate of the world is likely hanging in the balance. Not to mention how his personal struggles will be tied up in that, it’s probable that a slightly darker, more self-reflective—and transformative—tone is waiting for us in regards to season 5 Mike.

➠ Track 2 | What You're Doing

A simple song about a turbulent relationship where one person is unhappy because their partner is messing them around, and they're pleading with them to stop.

Look what you’re doing, I'm feeling blue and lonely / You got me running and there's no fun in it / Please stop your lying, you've got me crying, girl

The partner is the one holding control in the situation, while they feel at the mercy of their partner’s careless choices. The mood here is one of helplessness and desperation while still remaining open-hearted, hoping they’ll change.

I've been waiting here for you wondering what you're gonna do / If you should need a love that's true it’s me / Why should it be so much to ask of you what you're doing to me?

• • •

This is heavily M!Ieven coded. What do we know about their dynamic? Mike is always the one chasing El (trying to “win her back” in s3, terrified of her not needing him in s4, stressing about her being in danger all the time). El is consistently seeking autonomy (choosing to learn about her identity over pursuing romance with him in s2, choosing to break up with him in s3, choosing to leave him behind in s4, and I’m willing to bet she’s the one who removes herself from his storyline in s5). We know their separation will happen early season, and naturally things between them must be unstable leading up to this. El being the one to pull away while Mike stresses over it checks out considering these past patterns, and also the end of s4 with her already closing herself off while Mike appears at a loss.

➠ Track 3 | After The Earthquake

A song reminiscing on a relationship and the failure and death of it, with a sense of lingering nostalgia and unwillingness to let it go. It’s set to the backdrop of a metaphorical car crash.

It wasn't built to last / If you wake up you’ll remember the awful things I said / Looking back to the vibrant days / Those days I'd never let you fall apart but things fade / Why would I ever fall in love again when every detail’s over the guard rail? / Velvet curtains drawn, flowers at your feet / Say you’ll climb your way out of your wake now / Are you awake now?

• • •

In simpler terms…this is a break up song. The longing tone makes sense to me for M!Ieven because I’ve long suspected the initial split between them is not going to be super clean cut (this should make more sense later). Mike and El were together for a long time for their age, and have a lot of intense shared memories. El was also his first and only experience of relationships; it’s going to be difficult to detach. It being the right decision to end something doesn’t mean it’s easy or simple. Even if Mike is gay and didn’t truly like her romantically, he still loved her and in my opinion that distinction isn’t something he’s going to have figured out and made peace with the second it ends.

➠ Track 4 | Promises I've Made

Very straightforward and repetitive, and follows on seamlessly from the last song: this is about having trouble moving on from someone who’s left your life.

Ever since you have gone the days don't seem so bright and I wish I could forget you but I can’t / I have promised myself I wouldn't dream of you but I find that awful hard sometimes to do

• • •

Based on what I’ve seen people might fight me on this, but to me it’s M!Ieven coded mainly because of its positioning in the playlist (directly after a struggling relationship song + break up song) but also because it is technically about an ex love. Could we say it doesn’t need to be interpreted that specifically? Yes. I suppose it could be Byler coded too but personally...the way I would interpret it is as Mike moping over whatever happened with El. There’s not any intense emotional pining going on; if you listen it has a very laid back, chill sort of mood and is honestly very upbeat. There’s no deep heartbreak. It’s just about missing someone. Plus it sort of perfectly closes out the process we see over the last two songs of being unhappy with someone, to breaking up and grieving, to the typical post-break up struggle of navigating this hole in your life and naturally missing what once filled it. This is a whole sub-arc for Mike.

➠ Track 5 | Angst In My Pants

We’ve reached the gay section! This song is about trying to fit yourself into an acceptable—aspirational, even—life but never feeling content, and continuously trying to squash this troubling Feeling, the titular phrase: angst in (your) pants. Some people think it’s a reference to literal physical arousal but others including me think that in context it’s intended more as a metaphor for sexual frustration/dissatisfaction.

I hope it doesn't show, it'll go away / It's just a passing phase / When you’re all alone, you and your head / When you think you’ve made it disappear it comes again, hello, I’m here and I’ve got angst in my pants

The queer subtext here is very clear, I don’t think I even have to explain (check out the cover art too lol). The song closes with a realisation/acceptance that no, this “phase” won't ever go away i.e. it’s just who you are.

Give it a hundred years, it won't go away

I also thought one of the opening verse lines was an interesting segue from the last few songs:

But when you’re all alone and nothing bites you’d wish you stayed at home with someone nice

• • •

Angst In My Pants may aswell be titled Forced Conformity the thematic parallels to ST are that blatant. Another point for team Mike Wheeler actually is connected to the main themes of the show like all his other friends, and no it’s not because he’s somehow oppressed for being a nerd. Also rather than being about feelings for another person the song is about personal struggle with sexuality which excites me to think about in relation to Mike because we’ve been saying he needs to explore his own identity outside of being a love interest.

➠ Track 6 | The Better Side

A very sweet, slow, slightly melancholy song. I’ll be honest I cannot decipher more than 2/3 of the lyrics but here are the most meaningful ones of those I could:

I know you cry and I’m trying to keep you by my warmth

You’re never gonna see my eyes, you’re coloring all the skies you want to / I tried staying alive, keep my head on the better side when you’re far away

You’re on the better side you’re always the better one for me

You’re all that I need, I’m not gonna miss you anymore

My understanding is it’s about pining over someone who is a “better” choice, whatever that means in this context. Deciding you want someone, someone who you don’t currently have, someone who is maybe distracted, distant or physically absent? But vowing to change that because you recognise that you need them.

• • •

This directly follows the Gay Thoughts song, and precedes the Gay Thoughts song 2.0 so I feel safe interpreting it as Byler coded and about how it’s Mike’s turn to pine. (Also because “better” implies that there’s a “worse” i.e. this is a situation where you’re differentiating between two things i.e. in Mike’s case, Will vs El). I can envision Mike and Will getting moments together away from whatever chaos is surely going on, having the space to connect more where Mike starts becoming conscious of his feelings, realising slowly that Will is the “better” one for him. And as the song also suggests, perhaps Will has pulled away from him in the beginning. I think this is possible because the torment Will's likely going to endure from Vecna could understandably cause him to push Mike away, fearing his safety or him finding out how Will feels, and also I just don’t think he’ll be able to stand the pain of being M!Ieven’s couple’s counsellor for much longer without cracking. But I think Mike “it’ll be easier if we’re a team” Wheeler would make it his mission to fix any rift between them, the final line literally being I’m not gonna miss you anymore.

➠ Track 7 | Don't Ask Me To Explain

As far as I can tell, this song is about being afraid to face queer feelings for another person who is also hiding this about themselves, and being conflicted about whether to confess because you're not sure how they feel.

How will I ever know you enough to love you if you're hiding who you are? / How am I supposed to let it show when I don't even know? / Don’t move on without me, who will be watching my body when I sleep? / I don't want to be the one who's coming out first, I'd really like to but I'm just too shy

The end is an admission of…something. I’m not sure whether to interpret it as wishful thinking over this queer relationship you believe you can’t have, or as an offhand comment about forcing yourself to love someone you can’t because of your sexuality. Interesting either way:

It’s so easy to lie to myself and pretend that I could love you but I can't

I did do some research and the alleged true explanation of this song is it’s from one queer friend to another (man to woman, I assume both closeted, maybe a failed romance?) but I could only find one uncited source for that and everywhere else seems to agree with my interpretation so it seems when listening to the song that’s the story people hear. (Plus either way the song is about being queer. Undeniably so).

• • •

It’s not Byler coded we’re way past that, it literally just…is them. It does seem to suggest a level of internal conflict in Mike regarding coming out that I can’t say I expected (yes I have no doubts about canon Byler but I’m also a pessimist by nature—that should tell you how obvious their endgame is though lmao—so I assumed the Duffers would go wrong somewhere). I always thought he would be almost consciously clueless about himself until he finds out Will loves him, and the focus be more on him liking Will back rather than him liking boys (and obviously wasn’t a fan of that), but the prospect of Mike actually being aware and grappling with his sexuality is what we’ve been praying for and builds on the more low-level thrum of sexual confusion in Angst In My Pants. Oh and the song also could suggest Mike suspecting that Will likes him/is queer too before anyone confesses.

➠ Track 8 | What Do You Want Me To Do?

Another straightforward one. It’s quite angsty, a big contrast to the more sad feelings about a relationship from the earlier songs. This is about someone who left you for someone else/someone who walked out on you, who decides they want you back.

You walked out took your chance, turned your back on our romance / You said the change would do you good / But then the bubble burst your dream, turned into a nightmare scream / You came crawling to me your knees, and you were asking me to love you please

The main message of the repetitive chorus is basically: you want me to need you, but that’s not real love. You’re just using me to feel better about yourself.

What do you want me to do? Say that I need you more? Is that what real lovers do? Or only what you use me for?

• • •

I mean isn’t that last part how we’ve always described M!Ieven’s dynamic—all about aligning with the other’s needs whether for safety, validation or feeling ‘normal’, rather than genuine romance? I don’t think there’s any chance at all of El leaving Mike for someone else lol, as I said I don’t think we need to interpret these songs super specifically. But it does make me wonder: could we possibly see a moment of regression for El at some point in the season, after they separate? The focus here in my opinion is frustration at someone trying to re-enter your life when you know they don’t truly love you. Reflecting on their dynamic I talked about with earlier songs and their history in the show (El walking away, Mike scared to lose her), is it possible the break up could leave Mike struggling initially then he progressively understands why it was the right choice (especially after spending time with Will), meanwhile for El it’s the opposite—she’s more sure about breaking up but something happens later on that shakes her belief in herself. Her having one last hurdle to overcome in her dependency on Mike to finally break that pattern of hindering her growth by retreating to him could make sense. And based on this song…Mike would not be receptive to being El’s safety net. Growth for both of them.

➠ Track 9 | Substitute

Again, very angsty compared to earlier. It’s about a relationship characterised by false perceptions (focused on class), and those being what is holding it together. One partner is pretending to be something they’re not, cosplaying as someone else, and the other is also being dishonest/fake.

You think we look really good together / My fine looking suit is really made out of sack / The simple things you see are all complicated / Substitute your lies for fact / I see right through your plastic mac

The relationship breaks down because of this and their partner doesn’t truly want to fix things, and ultimately trades up.

Those crocodile tears are what you cry / It’s a genuine problem, you won’t try to work it out at all, you just pass it by / Substitute me for him / Substitute my coke for gin

Essentially: your partner not knowing the real you because you’re putting on a facade—the facade being the version of you they really like, the thing that was making you compatible—leads the relationship to fail. The literal title suggests neither of them as they are are what the other truly wants or needs.

• • •

Obviously this does not directly parallel M!leven in terms of the topic of the lying but in terms of the themes and core relationship issues…yeah. To me this could be about point Mike has reached after gradually coming to realisations about the nature of their relationship after it’s over, like I mentioned before. I can envision a mid-late season confrontation (or something less aggressive sounding lol) between them, pairing perfectly with the topic of the previous song. El scared trying to fall back on Mike and he’s like…no, we don’t work, I can’t be that for you anymore and this is why: betraying who he is (nerd) to impress her, trying so hard to play the “boyfriend” role (yet they never successfully emotionally connect), if he’s gay then there’s also the facade of straightness, etc. I think it would show a lot of emotional maturity from him honestly, and I really need him to have a strong grasp on what went wrong with El for them to have a shot at forming a healthy friendship, and also to psychologically process all that stuff before getting involved with Will.

➠ Track 10 | The Rebel Kind

A short song about life being tough when you don’t have much (this one is class-focused too), but still craving the freedom that comes from not following societal rules and pressures for how to do life “right”, and instead living on your own terms. Basically the struggle is worth not having to conform. The first verse sums it up pretty well:

They call us the rebel kind but they don’t understand the things a man must do to prove that he’s a man / It’s not easy but I don’t mind, I just wanna run with the rebel kind

• • •

Again, obviously the specific topic is not relevant to ST but the thematic parallels blew my mind, I mean the entire show is about people being outcasts and learning to find strength in that, and the final season is going to majorly drive that point. We know this from the fact that Will “being different” Byers is the one who’s arc is said to tie up the whole show. Now in regards to Mike…if this doesn’t scream forced conformity and deciding to reject it for your own happiness I don’t know what does. It perfectly captures the thematic end point of his arc next season (and not just his but probably the entire party’s in one way or another). Also the toxic masculinity reference in that one line applies heavily to Mike with his history of trying so hard to do what he thinks he supposed to do in going from boy to man i.e. We’re not kids anymore. Did you think we were never gonna get girlfriends?

➠ Track 11 | Block Rockin’ Beats

Another one I think is mainly to set a tone; no real lyrics just beats. In my opinion it comes after The Rebel Kind for a reason. Somehow it just makes sense, it’s got this really loud, frenzied, unrestrained energy to it.

➠ Track 12 | Just What I Needed

We end off with a love (or desire?) song. It’s interesting because it’s quite aggressive sonically but at the same time it talks about being with someone in a simple uncomplicated way:

I don’t mind you coming here and wasting all my time / I don’t mind you hanging out and talking in your sleep

…but it’s also very intense how you feel with them.

Cause when you’re standing oh so near I kinda lose my mind

There’s a repeated line that stuck in my head. It’s obviously written about a female subject, but there is such a rejection of the feminine going on:

It’s not the perfume that you wear, it’s not the ribbons in your hair

It’s saying those feminine attributes are not why this person is attractive—and yeah logically that means the subject must have those things, but as I’ve said I don’t think these songs need to be interpreted on such a specific level. The point being made is about a deeper connection. The line is just intriguing to me from the perspective of Mike being into boys, I mean he could’ve picked literally any other romance song.

I needed someone to feed / I needed someone to bleed / I guess you’re just what I needed

The message here is basically: I was craving the rawest form of connection/intimacy with another human being (that doesn’t have to necessarily mean sexual it’s just those visceral words feed, bleed in comparison to perfume and ribbons which sound very fluffy lol)…and now I’ve found you and it’s exactly what I was looking for.

• • •

With all the themes through the songs of rejecting fake relationships and conformity, and accepting and exploring queerness…Will Byers is obviously going to be the thing Mike needed. I’ve been saying (and so have many) but Byler isn’t happening till the end. Also the playlist finishing with this song is telling in my opinion. Aside from the Castle Byers Classics link, the title itself implies searching for something which is now found, a journey being over. I say this for the purposes of pushing my agenda about this playlist painting a narrative. Hear me out:

Personally……that’s not accidental. It just isn’t. Even if my more specific interpretations aren’t correct, I just cannot believe that this wasn’t curated to draw a particular picture. I believe in coincidences and if the playlist had been titled as it was with a bunch of random unconnected irrelevant songs I’d be the first person to file it under that. But the title and the inclusion of a song from Will’s official playlist and these specific songs in this specific order? Yeah it’s about s5 Mike and I cannot wait to see him! If you made it this far thanks for reading <3

[transmutationisms]

Any tips for reading academic/dense texts? I’m out of practice and without the guide of a professor to patiently explain every single thing it’s pretty hard getting back into it. Got any advice for improving one’s reading/comprehension abilities? I was reading Gramsci the other day and gave up. So we are talking pretty dire straits.

read a few book reviews or a secondary essay that summarises the text's arguments and significance. these readings are not definitive and you may very well end up disagreeing with them, but knowing what someone else made of the work can help you know what you're looking for when you read it yourself

read the introduction and conclusion first, then tackle the body chapters. this is similar to the above strategy in that it can clue you in to the main arguments and significance of the text before you delve into specific details and arguments. it helps keep you oriented if you know generally where a chapter is going and why. where applicable, you can also read the intro and conclusion to each chapter before reading the middle bits

academic texts are context-bound just like any other writing. if a book is baffling you, it can be clarifying to ask questions like: whom is this trying to respond to? why is the author setting these particular parameters of debate? what arguments or events is the author building on, answering, or taking for granted a reader's awareness of? you don't have to become an expert in every author, their political context, or their intellectual influences, but it often helps to pick up the broad strokes

keep a running lexicon of any specific jargon, vocabulary, or neologisms the author introduces. get into the habit of 'translating' sentences, at least in your head, by replacing all such terms with their definitions when necessary. sometimes you might even find it helpful to draw up some kind of diagram showing how terms relate to one another, like a taxonomical tree or other scheme

don't be afraid to skip around. if a chapter or section is particularly dense, baffling, or irritating, it might make more sense if you come back to it later, after reading other bits of the argument. academic non-fiction follows varying organisational schemata, and often chapters and sections stand on their own (& may even have been written as separate pieces, for instance intended for journal publication)

annotate (i like underlining and scribbling in the margins) and take notes (i like to remind myself what page number i can find a specific topic on) as necessary. the goal is not to disrupt your reading flow, but to give the future you the ability to look back and quickly identify what you thought was important or interesting in a text

[phleb0tomist]

people love telling me not to isolate myself when I’m having a crisis- reach out, don’t hide, etc- and while that’s a lovely sentiment, a lot of people don’t seem to understand what it entails in practice? like they truly don’t seem to have considered that me being open during my mental health crisis will mean them actually Seeing and Hearing small parts of that crisis.

“don’t hide yourself” seems to come with a secret caveat of “but don’t be unpalatable either”. often my openness leads not to support but to an ethics debate about whether it was condemnable of me to let my struggle be slightly visible. interesting. when i wear short sleeves or make casual mention of the long-term aftermath of my self injury, it’s somehow perceived as me saying “self injury is awesome! i think the whole world should do it!” instead of being perceived as me living exactly as i always have, just hiding a little less, bringing you into my world a tiny bit, like you asked. healed scars are the only ones i allow to be seen, i cover up healing injuries and i don’t talk about methods or anything overly specific or sensational. i openly discuss harm reduction measures & therapeutic strategies. but somehow ppl still disapprove of the snippets they see when i reach out.

if you want people to reach out during crisis you have to accept that theres no way for a person to make themselves palatable while theyre showing you their severe mental illness lmao. they’re not going to provide you constant caveats while sharing their feelings like “ive been having trouble coping so i fell back on self injury. but i don’t condone it! YOU shouldn’t do it and I condemn myself for having done it btw! I will never forgive myself for this expression of mental illness, i’m so sorry I revealed it to you.”

this post might be a vent I can’t rly tell. open to conversation if anyone has any similar experiences 👍

[whumpinggrounds]

Overused Disability Tropes

Woohoo here we go. I expect this one to be a bit more controversial because I am using specific media as examples. I would really prefer if, when critiquing this post, you avoid defending specific media, and focus instead on what’s actually being said/represented about disabled communities. If you feel I’ve done a really grave injustice, you can come into my askbox/DMs/replies to talk to me about it, but I might not answer.

One more time: I am not interested in getting into a debate about whether something is a good show/movie/book/whatever. I’m not telling you it’s bad, or that you shouldn’t enjoy it! People can like whatever they want; I am only here to critique messaging. Do not yell at me about this.

Newest caveat aside, let’s get into it!

Inspiration Porn

Without a doubt, our biggest category! Term coined in 2012 by badass activist Stella Young, but the trope has been around for literal centuries. There are a few different kinds that I will talk about.

Disabled character/person is automatically noble/good because of their disability. A very early example would be A Christmas Carol’s Tiny Tim, or, arguably, Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Real life examples include the Jerry Lewis MDA telethon, or children’s hospital ads that exploit sad-eyed kids with visible illness or disability.

Having a disability does not automatically make you a kind/angelic/noble person. This many not seem harmful, and may even seem positive, but in reality, it is condescending, inaccurate, and sets bizarre standards for how disabled people should behave.

This portrayal is often intended to elicit pity from abled audiences, which is also problematic.

In these portrayals, disability is not something to be proud of or identify with, only something to be suffered through.

Disabled character person does something relatively mundane and we all need to celebrate that. This is less common in writing, but happens in the real world when people do things like post pictures of disabled people at the gym captioned “What’s your excuse?”

This is condescending, and implies that anything disabled people are capable of, abled people are automatically capable of.

Makes it seem like it’s an incredible feat for a disabled person to accomplish tasks.

Uses people’s actual lives and actual disabilities as a reminder of “how good abled life is.”

The “Supercrip” stereotype is a specific kind of inspiration porn in which disabled people are shown to be capable of amazing things, “in spite of” their disability.

The Paralympics have been criticized for this, with people saying that advertisements and understandings of the Paralympics frame the athletes as inspiring not because they are talented or accomplished, but because their talents and accomplishments are seen as “so unlikely.”

Other examples include the way we discuss famous figures like Stephen Hawking, Alan Turing, or even Beethoven. Movies like The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game frame the subjects’ diagnoses, whether actual or posited, as limitations that they had to miraculously break through in order to accomplish what they did. Discussions of Beethoven’s deafness focus on how incredible it was that he was able to overcome it and be a musician despite what is framed as a tragic acquisition of deafness.

The pity/heroism trap is a concise way of defining inspiration porn. If the media you’re creating or consuming inspires these emotions, and only these emotions, around disability, that is a representation that is centered on the feelings and perceptions of abled people. It’s reductive, it’s ableist, and it’s massively overdone.

Disabled Villains

To be clear, disabled people can and should be villains in fiction. The problem comes when disabled people are either objects of pity/saintly heroes, or villains, and there is no complexity to those representations. When there is so little disabled rep out there (less than 3.5% of characters in current media), having a disabled villain contributes to the othering of disability, as well as the idea that disability can make someone evil. There are also a few circumstances in which particular disabilities are used to represent evil, and I’ll talk about how that’s problematic. 

Mentally ill villains are colossally overdone, particularly given that mentally ill people are more likely to be the victims of violence than perpetrators of it.  This is true of all mental illness, including “””scary””” things like personality disorders or disorders on the schizoaffective spectrum. Mental illness is stigmatized enough without media framing mentally ill people as inherently bad or more suspectible to evil. This prejudice is known as sanism.

Explicit fictional examples of this include the Joker, or Kevin Wendell Crumb in Split.

People can also be coded as mentally ill without it being explicitly stated, and that’s also problematic and sanist. In the Marvel movie Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness, Wanda’s appearance and behavior are coded as mentally ill. This is used to make her “creepy.” Horror movies do this a lot - mental illness does not render someone creepy, and should not be used as a tool in this way.

Visible disability or difference to indicate evil is another common, incredibly offensive, and way overdone trope. This is mostly commonly done through facial difference, and the examples are endless. These portrayals equate disability or disfigurement with ugliness, and that ugliness with evil. It renders the disabled villain in question an outcast, undesirable, and uses their disability or difference to dehumanize these characters and separate them from others. This is incredibly prevalent and incredibly painful for people with visible disability or facial difference.

An example of visible disability indicating evil is Darth Vader’s prosthetics and vastly changed physical appearance that happen exactly in time with his switch to the dark side. In contrast, when Luke needs a prosthetic, it is lifelike and does not visually separate him from the rest of humanity/the light.

Dr. Who’s John Lumic is another example of the “Evil Cripple” trope.

Examples of facial difference indicating evil range from just about every James Bond movie, to Scar in the Lion King, Dr. Isabel Maru in Wonder Woman, Taskmaster in Black Widow, Captain Hook in Peter Pan, and even Doofenschmirtz-2 in Phineas and Ferb the Movie. Just because some of the portrayals are silly (looking at you, Phineas and Ferb) doesn’t make the coding of facially scarred villains any less hurtful.  

A slightly different, but related phenomenon I’ll include here is the idea of the disability con. This is when a character fakes a disability for personal gain. This represents disabled people as potential fakers, and advances the idea that disabled people get special privileges that abled people can and should co-opt for their own reasons. 

In The Usual Suspects, criminal mastermind Verbal Clint fakes disability to avoid suspicion and take advantage of others. In Arrested Development, a lawyer fakes blindness in order to gain the sympathy and pity of the jury.

In much more complex examples such as Sharp Objects, a mother with Munchausen by proxy fakes her daughter’s illness in order to receive attention and pity. Portrayals like this make Munchausen or MBP seem more common than it is, and introduce the idea that parents may be lying or coaching their children to lie about necessary medical treatment.

Disability as Morality

Sometimes, the disabled character themselves is a moral lesson, like Auggie in Wonder. Sheerly through existing, Auggie “teaches” his classmates about kindness, the evils of bullying, and not judging a book by its cover. This also fits well under inspiration porn. This is problematic, because the disabled character is defined in terms of how they advance the other characters’ morality and depth.

In the “Disabled for a Day” trope, an otherwise abled character experiences a temporary disability, learns a moral lesson, and is restored to full ability by the end of the episode/book/movie. Once again, disability is used as a plot device, rather than a complex experience, along with more permanent disability being rejected as impossible for heroes or main characters.

Examples include an episode of M*A*S*H where Hawkeye is temporarily blinded, an episode of Law and Order: SVU where Elliott Stabler is temporarily blinded, and an episode of Criminal Minds where Agent Hotchner experiences temporary hearing loss.

Real life examples include sensitivity trainings where participants are asked to wear a blindfold, headphones, or use a wheelchair for a given amount of time. This does not impart the lived experience of disability. It should not be used as a teaching tool. 

Disabled people as inherently pure. This is related to inspiration porn and disabled people as noble, but is different in that it is usually appears in combination with developmental, cognitive, or intellectual disabilities. These characters are framed as sweet, “simple,” and a reminder to other characters to be cheerful, happy, or grateful.

Examples include Forrest Gump, Rain Man, I Am Sam, and What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.

No matter what the stereotypes of a given diagnosis are (yes, I’m thinking of the automatic cheerfulness associated with Down Syndrome), disabled people have personalities. They are capable of being sad, angry, sarcastic, irritable, annoying - any number of things beyond good/sweet/pure. It is reductive to act otherwise.

Disability as Surreal

Less common than some of the others, but still worth thinking about!

Disabled characters are framed as mystical, magical, or other than human, a condition that is either created by or indicated through their disability status. This is especially common with little people.

“Disability superpower” is when a character compensates for, or is uniquely able to have a superpower because of, their disability. Common tropes include the Blind Seer, Blind Weapon Master, Genius Cripple and Super Wheel Chair.

Examples include Pam from Supernatural, Charles Xavier from X-Men, or the grandpa in Spy Kids.

Disability as Undesirable

Last and least favorite category here. Let’s go.

Disabled people as asexual or not sexually desirable. Disabled people can be asexual, obviously. When every portrayal is asexual, that’s a big problem. It frames disabled people as sexually undesirable or implies that it is impossible for people with disabilities to have rewarding, mutually satisfying sexual relationships.

Examples include The Fault in Our Stars or Artie in Glee.

Abandoned due to disability. Hate this trope. Often equates disability with weakness. Don’t want to talk about it. It’s all right there in the title. Don’t do it.

Examples: Quasimodo in Hunchback of Notre Dame, several kittens in the Warrior Cat series, several episodes of Law and Order: SVU, Bojack Horseman, and Vikings.

Discussed in 300 and Wolf of Wall Street.

Ancient cultures and animal nature are often cited as reasoning for this trope/practice. This is not founded in fact. Many ancient civilizations, including Sparta, cared for disabled people. Many animals care for disabled young. These examples should not be used to justify modern human society.

Disabled characters are ostracized for disability. Whether they act “““normal”““ or odd, characters with visible or merely detectable disabilities are treated differently.

Examples include pretty much every piece of media I’ve said so far. This is particularly prevalent for people with visible physical disabilities or neurodivergence. Also particularly prevalent for characters with albinism.

This is not necessarily an inaccurate portrayal - disabled people face a lot of discrimination and ableism. It is, however, very, very common.

Bury your disabled. What it says on the label.

Examples: Animorphs, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, American Horror Story, Criminal Minds, Dr. Who, Star Trek, The Wire.

Mercy killing is a subtrope of the above but disgusting enough that it deserves its own aside. I may make a separate post about this at some point because this post is kind of exhausting and depressing me.

Examples: Me Before You, Killing Eve, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Of Mice and Men, and Million Dollar Baby.

Disability-negating superpowers imply that disability is undesirable by solving it supernaturally instead of actually portraying it, and giving their character powers instead.

Examples include (arguably) Toph from Avatar: the Last Airbender, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Legend of Korra, Dr. Strange, and Daredevil.

Overcoming disability portrays disability as a hindrance and something that can be defeated through technology and/or willpower.

Fictional examples include WALL-E, Kill Bill, The Goonies, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Heidi, The Secret Garden, The Inheritance Cycle, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Strangelove, Sherlock, The Witcher.

Real life examples include videos of wheelchair users standing from their chair to walk down the aisle at a wedding, or d/Deaf children “hearing” for the first time through cochlear implants.

What Does This Mean for Your Writing?

First of all, congratulations for making it this far!

Now, as I have said again and again, I’m not going to tell you what to write. I’ll ask some questions to hopefully help guide your process.

What tropes might you be playing into when writing disabled characters? Why do you find these tropes compelling, or worth writing about? How prevalent are these tropes? How harmful are they? What messages do they send to actual disabled people?

Just because they are common tropes does not mean they are universally awful. Cool fantasy or futuristic workarounds are not necessarily bad rep. Showing the ugly realities of ableism is not necessarily bad rep. It’s just a very, very common representation of disability, and it’s worth thinking about why it’s so common, and why you’re writing it.

As always, conduct your own research, know your own characters and story, and make your own decisions. If you have questions, concerns, or comments, please hit me up! Add your own information! This is not monolithic whatsoever.

Happy writing!

[janmisali]

[NOT APRIL FOOL’S RELATED]

As the only supermariologist I follow, I wanted to know your opinion on a shower thought I had regarding the Mario franchise, specifically, what might be considered the “Main Cast” of the super Mario franchise.

I’m mostly curious about:

A) is there an official or semi-official set of characters defined in this way?

B) if not, what is your personal opinion (if any) on who that might be and what criteria that would require

Considering Mario, Peach and Bowser are almost certainly part of that cast (though Bowser is an antagonist…) I would say characters that appear or are playable in most if not all of the games who’s plot revolves around Bowser kidnapping Peach should be counted. That leaves me with Mario, Luigi, Peach, Toad (but is he a single character?), Yoshi, and Bowser.

I imagine that this is one of those things like “what is a mainline super Mario game” that has multiple ambiguous answers, but simply interested to know your way of approaching it!

this is a great question!

so there actually is a semi-official list of "main characters" for Mario in the same way there's an official list of mainline Super Mario games. over on mario dot nintendo dot com slash characters we can see that the main characters are:

Mario

Luigi

Princess Peach

Toad

Bowser

Yoshi

Daisy

Wario

Waluigi

Rosalina

Bowser Jr.

Boo

Donkey Kong

Diddy Kong

whether or not this list is an actual satisfactory answer to "who are the main characters in Mario" is another question altogether of course. besides the obvious questionable things here, I'd like to point out the odd inconsistency of referring to "Princess Peach" by her full title while being on a first-name-only basis with Bowser, Daisy, and Rosalina. fun!

personally, I'd say there are a few different "tiers" of main character status in the Mario games. the main main characters are Mario, Luigi, Bowser, and Peach. like, literally only those four. those are the four characters where it is always remarkable when a Mario game doesn't include one of them in a major role.

tertiary main characters would include all the recurring playable characters in ensemble multiplayer games, like Waluigi and Diddy Kong. (Diddy Kong would count as a main character if we were talking about Donkey Kong characters, but the question is about Mario characters, and Diddy Kong is definitely a tertiary main character in Mario games specifically) the real interesting question is who counts as being a "main character" at the layer between these two tiers.

I think Yoshi, Toad, Wario, and Donkey Kong are all a given for secondary main characters, but beyond that I'm really not sure! should Toadette count? what about Nabbit? Daisy? Kamek? Bowser Jr.? the Koopalings? Toadsworth? who knows! it's all very debatable, and there's no definitive answer here. nintendo's official list certainly isn't helping!

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 19

Chapter 15 when on Ao3, Masterpost WC: 2870 CW: WARNING THESE ARE SPOILERY Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Injury,

Danny knew he was smiling like a love sick fool when he pulled back from the kiss, but he really didn’t care. It was still far to nice to be able to kiss Jason whenever he wanted: like when Jason was picking him up for their date.

“So, where are we going and what’s with the backpack?” Jason asked as he handed over the spare helmet.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope, you don’t get to know where we’re going,” Danny said.

The flat stare he got in response was pretty impressive on Jason’s part. “Fish, I’m the one driving.”

“That you are,” Danny agreed. While Danny didn’t exactly inherit his dad’s driving habits, it was still better that Jason was the one behind the wheel (or the handle bars in this case).

Jason waited a long beat before giving an exasperated sigh. “Then I need to know where we’re going.”

“Your helmet bluetooths to your phone, right? I’ll pull up the directions and press go. You just have to follow them.”

“The directions it gives for the city are shit.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you the road we need to be on outside of the city and you can ignore it until then.”

“We’re leaving the city?” That seemed to get Jason’s interest at least.

“Yeah, so have a little sense of adventure and trust me, okay? I think you’ll like it.” Danny hoped Jason would like it. He couldn’t top the museum date, but he hoped this at least would still be a good one.

“Course I trust you, koi,” Jason said and followed up his words with a light kiss.

“Koi?”

“They’re good luck fish.”

“Oh, Ancients do you have the wrong person for that,” Danny said, laughing as he put on his helmet. “Now hand over your phone so I can get us going.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it,” Danny said as he pulled up the route to the small town.

“Damn right.”

-

The whole drive was a little magical, which Danny hoped boded well fro the rest of the date. The trees were in full fall color, the wind on the road wasn’t too cold yet, and, best of all, Danny got to spend it pressed up against Jason’s back.

There was no doubt that they were in the right place as soon as the passed the cheerfully painted wooden sign on the edge of town and the large banner next to it declaring it was the Fall Harvest Festival that weekend. The sign spanning the first set of streetlights in the old fashion downtown didn’t hurt either. Or all the stalls and people milling about. Or the smell of food.

“A harvest festival?” Jason asked, the words slightly distorted by the helmet.

“They have a market place set up and live music and food,” Danny explained quickly. Please, please like it. “But it’s really just good timing to make the trip worth it. Really we’re here for somewhere specific.”

“I don’t suppose I get to know what that is either?”

“Nope! I thought we’d grab lunch and something to drink first before we make our way there.” Please think the plan was okay.

“Something smells delicious, so I’m more than down for that,” Jason agreed easily, and Danny breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So far, so good.

Jason’s nose ended up leading them to cider, pulled pork sandwiches, and tornado potatoes- which were a spiraled monstrosity on a stick (as was only right for fair food). They were a little after lunch, which meant that they were able to find a place to eat at one of the many picnic tables set out across the town square.

Danny had to hand it to the town— it was nice. Sure, it was campy and the number of gourds used as decoration was little extreme, but it was all fit together in a way that was just the right level of quaint. Jason started them on an absurd game ‘tourist or resident’ as they ate. If they both agreed resident, they had to come up with what the person’s job or archetype in the town was.

It ended in a ten minute debate if one lady with truly impressive hair worked at the nail salon or florist.

“Receptionist at the law office,” the grey haired lady who had ended up sharing their table cut in.

Danny went beat red at having been caught out in their game.

“Guess or fact?” Jason asked, unbothered.

“Fact, sonny. I’ve been in this town for fifty-three years now, there ain’t nothing I don’t know,” she said with a proud sniff. “Good guess on the baker though, spot on where that one. Make sure you stop by that booth.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Jason said, balling up their trash to throw away.

Danny happily escaped the table with Jason.

“Ancients that was embarrassing.”

Jason had the audacity to just laugh. “Nah. She didn’t mind.”

“She’s going to tell everyone our guesses,” Danny said.

“So what? We didn’t say anything rude about anyone— well, other than that one set of clearly tourists who were being jerks so they deserved it. We’re just adding to the local flavor for this year.”

“If we go down in infamy and get blocked at the boarder next year, I’m blaming you.”

Jason just smiled softly at him. “Already planning for a next year?”

Danny floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before he just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good, I like that. Now where’s next on our list?”

-

Next on their list turned out to be a bookstore. Not just a bookstore- one of those bookstores that had been in the same building for a century. Books were stacked on top of books, shelves formed a maze, organization was a myth: in short, it was a fire hazard and it was amazing.

Jason might have been a little in love.

“Wow.”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, shifting on his feet a little as he looked up at Jason from out under his bangs.

“Yeah, fish, this is great.”

Danny’s shoulders relaxed. “Good, then go look around and pick something out to take home, my treat.”

“I could be here for hours,” Jason warned, already starting down one of the narrow corridors.

“Then take hours,” Danny said, smiling indulgently as he followed him. “We just ate, the day is young. If I get done looking I’ll check out with anything I’ve found and just go read on a bench at the festival.”

“Text me if you do that?” Jason asked, tilting a book to see the title better.

“I will, promise, but right now I’ll stick with you.”

Jason reached out and squeezed Danny’s hand, taking them deeper into the shop. Danny followed along for about half an hour, Jason commenting to Danny on some of the things he was finding. He lost Danny what seemed to be the science section, of course, and continued to explore for almost another hour.

He really only stopped his exploring because he stumbled upon Danny in the back corner, curled up under a rosy light in an ancient armchair. Danny was completely engrossed in a book. Leaning against the bookcase, Jason took in the sight. There was a little, warmed part of him that almost ached at it. It was the sort of thing that he wanted to come home to.

After only a minute, Danny looked up, clearly feeling the eyes on him. Jason watched the smile bloom across Danny’s face.

“Hey,” Danny said quietly. “You look like you found quite a pile.”

“This?” Jason said, hefting the stack of books. “This is me being restrained.”

Danny laughed, uncurling and sliding off his seat before he grabbed another book from the end table beside him.

“You found some things also?” Jason asked as they walked towards the register.

“Yeah, a book on local ghost stories—” Jason couldn’t help the amused snort at that “—I know, I’m a walking cliché. And a journal of an inventor that I thought looked cool.”

“Ah, I see you’ve found your young man,” the elderly shopkeep said, putting down his own book. “Have you thought more about the astronomy book?”

“Oh, um, not today, I don’t have that much to spend,” Danny said, nearly mumbling the words.

Jason frowned a little. “I can get it for you, fish.”

“What, no! I’ve planned this date, I get to treat you,” Danny said.

“Alright,” Jason relented. “But only one of my books; you shouldn’t suffer because I’m a bibliophile.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Jason for a moment before nodding. “Hum, fine, but not the cheapest ones.”

“I can settle on that,” Jason said with a little shrug.

While Danny was fishing his wallet out of his backpack, Jason caught the shopkeep’s eyes and mouthed at ‘Do you ship?’.

‘For your boy, I’ll make an exception’, the man wrote on the back of a business card that he tactfully slid over. Pleased, Jason subtly wrote out his address while the shop keep wrung them up, putting the astronomy book secretly on Jason’s bill. It did look like a lovely old book with the navy leather cover and gold foil. It could easily be a present for the holidays.

By the time they were back out out the street and walking through the market, Danny’s backpack hung heavy with the weight of the books, but he refused to let Jason carry it. Chivalry wasn’t dead, he insisted, which was ridiculous reason but Jason let him have it. The backpack filled up even more as they both bought a few things at the market to be presents (Jason thought Alfred would love the local tea blends especially).

More ciders and then hot chocolates were the drink of choice with dinner— potpie for Danny and fish cakes for Jason. As they ate a band set up in the pavilion in the middle of the square, playing with the setting sun. The light had just dipped below the horizon when Jason stood and offered Danny his hand.

“I will so step on your toes,” Danny warned, but he was smiling as he took Jason’s hand.

“That’s alright, I’ve got sturdy boots.”

They found a spot on the corner of the dance floor and Jason twirled Danny into his arms, earning a breathless little laugh for his efforts. It really was the perfect evening and a much needed break. Tomorrow he could get back to the city and being its protector and to the cases that were nagging at his mind, tonight was just about him and Danny and this odd little town.

-

Red Hood stumbled through the window of his safe house and hit the ground hard. The scream of pain choked off in the back of his throat as his body seized. Bloody fingers scrambled against the worn linoleum.

He needed to call someone. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t call someone.

His comms were shorted out.

Something had had happened in the fight.

It had been the normal sort of trouble— a new shithead trying to bring new drug onto his streets. It should have been an easy bust. It had been an easy bust.

But then the feeling of burning had burst in Jason’s chest— a molten heat that he had felt so sure would consume him.

He had stumbled. It left an opening. Just enough space for a knife to catch him just wrong under the armpit. A bullet solved his immediate issues, but when Jason had tried his comms, there had only been static.

The staggering trip back to his closest safe house had been agonizing, but he needed to get to a working comm. He needed to get up and get to a working comm.

He got his arms under him. A scream of pain ripped from him as the twisting motion wrenched at the wound. Legs next. Push himself up.

Only a few feet to stagger.

Blood slicked fingers fumbled the comm. No no no— he couldn’t— Jason followed it to the ground as it dropped. He struggled to pick it up and activate it.

“Help.”

He couldn’t hear if anyone heard him. He didn’t even know what channel this comm was tuned to. Desperately, Jason ripped off his helmet and shoved the comm into his ear.

“Help.”

“Hood?”

Oh, it was Dick.

“Hood!?”

He sounded desperate.

Was he hurt? Someone was hurt. Jason had to…

“…help.”

-

Dick all but smashed through the window of the safe house. The only reason he didn’t break the glass was that if Jason was as hurt as Dick feared he was, Dick would need to be able to secure the safe house to treat Jason.

He was lucky that that the security was down.

He was terrified that the security was down.

Now worried of an ambush, Dick crept silently through the window. That was… that was a lot of blood.

“Jason, come on, please.” That was Fish’s voice.

Fish knew? Surely if Jason had told his boyfriend about the nightlife, he would have told Dick he had? What was…

Fish was cradling Jason to his chest, half propping him up. Blood pooled under them. Jason’s helmet was discarded to the side and his boyfriend had a tube of glowing green liquid lifted to Jason’s lips.

“Just drink up.”

Glowing green liquid.

“You’ll— you’ll be fine. Just drink up.”

Lazarus water.

“What the fuck are you doing to him?!?” Dick’s escrima sticks buzzed to life in his hands.

Fish’s head whipped towards him, color draining from his face. “It’s not— you have to let me—”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Dick growled, enunciating each word carefully.

The man slide his finger over the top of the tube, effectively capping it so not to spill. “Nightwing, he’s bleeding badly this can—”

Dick slid his foot forward just an inch, starting to shift his weight. “It can nothing. He would never want to use the Pit again!”

“It’s not— no, it’s not the Pit—”

He lunged.

The right stick hit, buzzing loudly on contact. The guy screamed at the impact, but held onto the vial of Lazarus water.

The guy’s other hand shot forward, Dick blocked with with his arm and twisted. His foot slipped— like stepping on wet sand. Dick contorted to compensate with his free hand.

His hand sunk into the floor.

Holy fuck—

Dick’s other hand was slammed down too, trapping it. No, no, no— Dick struggled against the floor that he was part sunk into, the cracking linoleum shifted slightly, but Dick was stuck.

“Oracle!”

Static answered him.

“What did you do to my comms,” Dick growled, watching as the guy pulled Jason back into his arms. Was this all a trap? Was Jason’s boyfriend sent by Talia or Ra’s and had just been binding his time? Was it all an act? Did the cheeky, laughing, bumbling man that Dick met last week not exist? Was the way that Danny looked at Jason a lie? “What did you do to Jason!?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, I found him like this,” he said. He used his thumb to part Jason’s lips.

“Stop it!”

He didn’t. He poured in that toxic, glowing green sludge down Jason’s throat, speaking softly in Jason’s ear the whole time.

Dick screamed and struggled against the floor. No, please no—

“…you can hate me. You can hate me and scream at me and hell, once Jason is stabilized I won’t try to stop you doing whatever you need to. But Jason is still bleeding out. The ectoshot will help, but it won’t fix it completely. I need you. I need you to help me sew up wherever he’s bleeding from and, I don’t know, get a transfusion going. I don’t know where things are in this place.” He looked up at Dick from under his bangs and Dick could see in the now glowing green eyes some of the same guy— the same fish that he had met last week. “Please, feel however you want about me, but help me save him. He needs both of us right now, okay?”

Dick didn’t know what to say; didn’t know if he was about to make a deal with the devil.

“Please. If I free you, will you help? Just— punch me after if you need to, just help me save him first.”

That devil was the only thing keeping Jason alive.

Why did it always end up like this for his brother?

“Let me up.” Fuck everything. “I promise, I won’t try anything until after Jason is safe.”

The guy studied him for a moment before nodding. He laid Jason down carefully and reached out to Dick. The buzzing tingled through Dick’s skin again and he was able to pull his hands and feet free of the floor, one at a time.

Dick really wanted punch the guy right then and there.

Jason was more important.

“Get Jason’s jacket off, I think it’s a torso wound— maybe his left arm,” he ordered instead as he moved to the fridge to get a blood bag to start it thawing. “Find it and put pressure on it.”

He could punch someone after Jason was saved.

-----

AN: You should never trust me when I have a character goes 'ah yes, I'll worry about that tomorrow'. But remember, if you pitchfork me, I can't write the rest of this~ I'll try to spare you all and have the next part next week if I can! It will go into how Danny was there too.

Special shout out to @mokulule for making it worse! Trapping Dick in the floor was her idea. As she pointed out- he'll have nightmares about this now. (So sorry Dick.)

But look how cute the first part of the chapter was! That's good, right? Stay delightful darlings, don't stab me!

Due to being shadow banned (likely from tagging) and the new post editor, I'm not longer tagging! Follow the link and subscribe to be notified instead!