#and when i say 'grown woman' i mean that woman is in her 40s

[klargreeves]

tiktok anti-algorithm-detection language needs to end i’m being so serious. why did i just hear a grown ass woman talk about a CSA case like this: "did you guys hear about the man who went to a hotel last week to have schmex with a seven yr old and an eleven yr old but he was greeted by police officers instead and then he pulled out a pew pew and tried to pew pew the police officers but then they just kept pew pewing until he was gone" are you hearing yourself

[stairset]

I think it's funny how all these recent interviews about Bo-Katan are making her age an even bigger point of contention than it already was and so far Wookieepedia refuses to update her page, even they're like we ain't touching this shit with a 10 foot pole and I respect that.

[herawell]

Anyway this is my semi-annual reminder that Amy March needed to have every tooth knocked out of her face for burning her sister’s book, that being twelve does not absolve you of destroying your sibling’s hard work over a trip to the theater, that Marmee is a horrible mother for expecting Jo to get over it by sundown, and that almost drowning in the ice pond was her own damn fault and not redemption in any way.

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[ukrfeminism]

We’ve been chatting for about half an hour when Eloise lowers her voice to a whisper. Until now she’s been confidently talking through the ups and downs of being a 19-year-old woman in a world she finds unsteady. 

She’s annoyed that, on TikTok, the advertisements she gets are keyrings with rape alarms and “stabby kitties” (a cat-shaped metal keychain with pointed ears sharp enough to cause damage), feels that modern feminism sometimes goes a bit too far, but having grown up in the age of nudes, she doesn’t really trust men. Which is unsurprising considering the story she tells me next.

“So a boy I know was asking a girl at his school for nudes,” she says, quietly. “And then when she refused, he threatened to rape her.” The boy was 14 and had recently posted an Andrew Tate video to his Instagram page, which was Eloise’s first encounter with the online influencer. 

“It said stuff like how women are your property and that it doesn’t matter if women say they’ve been sexually assaulted; if you’re with them that’s your right. I didn’t like it,” she adds.

Tate has made several appearances in the headlines this week. On Tuesday, a Romanian court rejected his appeal to ease the ban on him leaving the country as a legal case against him – in which he’s charged with human trafficking, rape and forming a criminal gang to sexually exploit women – continues. He denies all charges against him. The following day, Ipsos polling for King’s College London’s Policy Institute and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership found that one in five men aged 16-29 who have heard of Andrew Tate have a positive view of him.

Separately – or, arguably, perhaps not – another survey published in the same week underpinned a renewed focus on the attitudes and beliefs of Generation Z, this time from the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS). The research asked just over 3,000 adults of varying ages – 50.6 per cent of whom were female – about their understanding of rape and serious sexual offences, and the law on consent, and drew troubling conclusions.

Overall, 74 per cent of people surveyed understood that it can still be rape if a victim doesn’t resist or fight back, but the number fell to just over half (53 per cent) of 18-24-year-olds who had the same understanding. Less than half of respondents from this age group recognised that victims might not report a sexual offence to police immediately, that being in a relationship or marriage doesn’t mean consent can be assumed, or that if a man has been drinking or taking drugs, he’s still responsible if he rapes someone. More than 70 per cent of over-65s recognised that even if no physical force is involved a person might not be free or able to consent to sex, compared to just 40 per cent of young people.

Previous generations have become used to hearing that rape myths and misconceptions continue to persist, but that’s precisely why this week’s grim trinity of headlines stings. “There tends to be a public assumption that things are generally always getting better,” says author and feminist campaigner Laura Bates. “Actually, views like these are incredibly widespread among young people.” 

Bates regularly works with schools, talking to pupils who often tell her that “rape is a compliment”, that “it’s not rape if she likes it” or, “it’s your boyfriend, you have to have sex with him”.

She adds: “Attitude surveys have to be taken seriously because they are a real red flag that we’re going backwards – we’re seeing much more extreme and concerning misogynistic attitudes among the youngest generations than we are among the oldest. We have to face up to that and ask, why is that happening?”

Gen Z has never been neatly contained. Growing up as the first digital natives in the chokehold of crisis – climate, Covid, cost of living – has seen them praised for their social awareness, but disenfranchised and forgotten by politics. Their extremely online nature has given them unprecedented access to the world and other people – but, of course, that’s a double-edged sword.

“The internet has made everyone’s voices louder, but that means the most misogynistic people in the world are heard more too,” says Niya Clement-Hickson, a 26-year-old marketing designer from London. He says his generation has been “kind of ruined” by social media.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people around my age will argue that Andrew Tate is not as bad as he seems.”

When I spend an hour talking to 16-year-old Tate fan Manus from Ohio on TikTok, he says exactly that. He’s relatively timid and seems unsure of what he thinks at times, but came across Tate aged 12, being drawn to his motivational speeches, humour, and attitude towards making money. “[Tate] kinda showed me how people really are in reality,” he says. On Tate’s assertions that women are the property of men, he says those beliefs are simply from the Bible (though Manus himself is Muslim).

He maintains he’s never seen Tate speak violently about women, and when I send him leaked voicenote recordings of Tate saying that he enjoyed raping a woman, Manus is certain it’s fake “probably to make him look bad”. I ask for his views on feminism and he responds that feminists now want “superiority” and “more rights”. What rights exactly? “More rights in general,” he says, vaguely.

This opinion is not a rarity – there’s a pervasive idea circling comments sections and pub corners that the pendulum has “swung too far”. “Some of us warned that when you continue to suppress their identity by telling young boys that they are inherently toxic, they’ll start acting irrational,” one comment under an Andrew Tate post this week read. But it’s not just boys who hold this idea. Early last year, a survey from Ipsos UK and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership at King’s College London echoed this and some of Eloise’s views that feminism has gone too far. They found that 52 per cent of Gen Z and 53 per cent of millennials believe that we’re now discriminating against men. Less than half of Gen Z respondents said they defined themselves as a feminist.

Was it coincidence then, to see that shortly after the research was published in March 2023, the year of the girl was in full swing? A persistently pink summer was punctuated with girl dinners, #tradwives – modern women who believe in traditional gender roles – and stay-at-home girlfriends sharing their daily rituals on news feeds. New York magazine’s The Cut declared it “Woman in Retrograde” as the year came to a close; a cluster of reactionary elements to a significant demise of mainstream feminism.

This shift back to traditional behaviours is also present in younger men, says Niya. “A lot of guys feel that their role is all about providing money, being a protector. But they feel they deserve to get something out of the interaction. They just can’t deal with being told no.”

In terms of consent, does he hear attitudes that put women in danger? “Absolutely,” he replies. Niya didn���t learn about consent in school – “I don’t think it was ever talked about beyond ‘don’t have sex until you’re old enough’” – and thinks this is quite common for men of his age. For Maya, who’s 24 and neurodivergent, the line of consent is difficult to pinpoint and somewhat shaped by social media. There’s a “disconnect” from what she really wants – and is able to articulate – in the moment.

“I think that we do have less and less sex and more and more porn,” Niya adds. “And I think that once porn is your main and in some cases, only engagement with sex and women, then that is going to completely screw up how you see sex.”

Do all roads lead to porn? Probably. Clare McGlynn, who is a professor of law with particular expertise in sexual violence and online abuse, says: “We know that algorithms promote more extreme content, more hate – and many, many younger people, men and women, are getting this. Millions of people, as we speak, are watching mainstream online pornography that is racist, sexist, misogynist and violent in its content. Of course, it’s shaping attitudes and lives.”

“There’s certainly a pressure on young boys and men, for example, to be taking and sharing nudes – they’re part of a culture that is encouraging them to,” McGlynn explains. During a study, she looked at what material was presented on the homepage of popular sites – she found landing pages which were filled with sexually violent material. “So it’s also not them even actively choosing that material; we’re part of a culture that is grooming young men, teaching them expectations around sex – and asking them to accept and normalise it.”

What appears clear from the survey conducted by the CPS is a dangerous lack of understanding of what constitutes a crime. “I do lectures on criminal law and I’ve had students come up to me afterwards and say that they didn’t know they had been sexually assaulted or raped,” McGlynn adds.

Laura Bates says that we’re in the midst of a “crisis of sexual violence among young people”. 

“Deeply misogynistic misinformation is being spread to young people online at a rate that most people just have absolutely no idea about,” she says. “And there is a massive knock-on effect.

“Some will look at these surveys and go, well, what does attitude matter? But you have to draw a connection between these really worrying attitudes about rape and the fact that nearly 80 per cent of young people told Ofsted inspectors recently that sexual assault is normal and common in their friendship groups.”

So what can be done? More responsibility and accountability from social media companies, says Bates. Tate’s content – some of which reportedly shows him attempting to beat a woman with a belt; she later hides behind a locked door – has been viewed more than 11 billion times on TikTok, she says, adding: “That’s more than the population of the planet.” Last year, advocacy group HOPE found that more 16-17-year-old boys had watched Tate’s content than had heard of Rishi Sunak. “I think it’s really important that the government supports high quality, age-appropriate sex and relationships education,” she adds. 

Actively listening to and engaging with boys – as seen in initiatives like the state of New York’s Starting the Conversation campaign – is also important. Boys must have a safe and judgement-free environment to express themselves: the more their experiences of rape culture are internalised, the more difficult they are to see.

The Online Safety Bill, which was enacted in October last year, she says, was a missed opportunity for change. While it asks for more transparency on social media platforms and imposes sanctions for those not following the act, along with criminalising cyberflashing and sending unsolicited nude images, “it went 250 pages without mentioning women and girls once, until campaigners changed that”, Bates says.

“It’s so much more effective to focus on prevention of radicalisation than trying to unpick it once it’s happened,” she says. “Young people really are prepared to listen and prepared to change their minds, it’s just a shame this isn’t happening in every school.”

“It does make me worried about how safe the world is going to be,” says Eloise, who will begin her twenties in the summer. “What if people really start thinking that women are property again?” Then, she’s quiet again. “I really hope it can change.”

[shanastoryteller]

Blessed Samhain, Shana! more Lady Mo or something else genderbendy?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Lan Xichen hasn’t seen Wangji this upset in thirteen years and he has no idea what could be the cause. He guides him to A-Yao’s private garden, mind spinning. If Xuanyu were in some sort of immediate danger, Wangji would not leave her side. He’s sure of that and it’s all that’s keeping him from marching back to Jiang Yanli and demanding an explanation out of her himself. He hopes Sizhui hasn’t noticed the commotion, certain it will cause his nephew to worry, but he doesn’t spare too much thought on it because right now his first concern is his brother.

Worryingly, when they come to a stop Wangji just continues to stare at him blankly.

“What happened?” he asks, resisting the urge to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. “Did you and Xuanyu get into a disagreement?”

Perhaps something to do with Jin Guangshan? Lan Xichen has long abandoned the idea that she’s some sort of spy, as has A-Yao, but that doesn’t mean her father can’t want things from her, can’t be trying to make things difficult for her. Perhaps Jiang Yanli was warning her and Xuanyu and Wangji had a fight about it? They fight often enough that he can’t imagine anything that would send Wangji running.

“I’ve done something terrible,” Wangji says tonelessly. “This is my fault.”

Wangji faced down forty Lan clan elders and received forty lashings all without admitting a single moment of poor judgement or regret. Punishments he accepts easily – culpability, significantly less.

“What are you talking about?” he demands, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. “What did you do?”

“Xuanyu,” he starts, then presses his lips together and shakes his head.

He would not harm Xuanyu. Even that spar that set half the clan to breaking the rules about gossip was not about harm. He’ll fight her, argue with her, spar with her, but Wangji worries and watches over Xuanyu constantly, vexed and surprised by her at turns, and Lan Xichen had felt aching relief when the woman his brother had been coerced to marry had turned out to be someone that Wangji couldn’t look away from.

He forces himself to sound calm. “What about Xuanyu?”

Wangji wets his lips and has to clear his throat twice before he can make himself speak. “She’s pregnant.”

Lan Xichen stares.

The relief is enough to make his knees week and his grip on Wangji’s shoulder doubles as a way to steady himself. “Wangji! You nearly gave me a heart attack! This is wonderful-”

“Wonderful?” he repeats, looking at him like he’s grown another head.

Some of that relief drains away. “Is it not? Is something wrong with the baby? Or Xuanyu? I know she was a little weak when you married, but she’s gotten so much stronger.” A terrible thought occurs to him. “Is she – she’s happy about it, isn’t she? She said that she likes kids and she’s so good with Sizhui, she must be happy.”

“I,” Wangji blinks, “I don’t – I didn’t ask–”

“Well, what did you say?” he asks in exasperation.

“I apologized.”

A-Yao isn’t here, but Lan Xichen feels the familiar urge to turn to him. “You apologized.” Wangji nods. “Xuanyu told you that she was carrying your child. And you apologized. Then left.”

He nods again, slower this time.

Lan Xichen grips the bridge of his nose.

“LAN WANGJI!”

They both turn to see Jiang Cheng headed straight for them, sword unsheathed and Zidian sparking, although that’s not the most alarming part. The last time Lan Xichen saw that look on Jiang Cheng’s face, they were on a battlefield.

This, at least, likely is Wangji’s fault.

[simonsomeriley]

dutch van der linde with a

younger reader

1k words | female reader

@bisca-connell445 for you lovely <3

cw: (legal) age gap (r is in her mid-late 20s, dutch is in his early 40s), infidelity & unfaithfulness, dutch is a tad bit insecure, maybe ooc (?)

my apologies i accidentally ended it off in a cliff hanger 🥲 enjoy this blurb

You've had your eye on him for a while. An older, territorial, & handsome grown man with confidence in his step. Who wouldn't want him?

Of course you haven't said anything about it, much too shy to do so.

You don't know what pulls your attention to him. Is it the experience, how a man like him has experience under his belt, not afraid to take the lead in unnerving circumstances.

He's the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, you think. At least for you. You'd never say it to his face, mostly unsure of what he thinks of you.

Little do you know, Dutch sits in his bed at night, replaying your conversations in his head, overanalysing every word he says, did he come off to strong? Too distant? Too cold?

Sometimes you think he's cold with you. You're unsure if it's on purpose, but it throws you off. Usually his bubbling and sarcastic personality had never been hindered by you.

In his head, you're too good for him. He already fancies someone, after all. In an attempt not to come off too friendly, he'll accidentally come off as distant. He doesn't mean to, but he knows Molly would have the shock of her life if she found out how he looks at you.

The way the cigar hangs off his lips, the pride in his walk.

You're a proper lady, in his words. Even though you don't think that's true, you'll take his word for it.

You're a young thing, a healthy and attractive woman. Though something about you stands out to him. You're different.

He makes it less and less obvious how he looks at you, and you're sure Molly notices. You try to avoid eye contact with him, for your own good.

You think about him when you're laying under your sheets, head on the pillow, thinking about him. His voice, his confident expression, you want him. And you want him bad. This isn't good, right?

Surely if you slip up at any time Molly would notice. You're not even sure Dutch appreciates you wanting him in that aspect.

You don't see the love in their relationship. Like there's no spark. Molly defends him with her life, but to you it seems like she wants something he can't give her.

Like she's in denial.

Dutch is nonchalant, per usual he's seemingly upon his high horse, he takes pride in himself. Doesn't get dramatic.

You appreciate that in him. You see the good in him even if no one else does. You understand. At least Dutch thinks so, he'd never ever let you know. He's not risking losing the relationship you already have trying to get closer.

I could treat him better, you think. I could give him everything he wants and more, if only he'd take me. I'd say yes to him any day. Your thoughts are shaken off though,

You shake them off. You think about what he'd called you, a proper lady, you wonder what makes him think so of you. You enjoy dressing up, making your hair all pretty, laced up in corsets and bodices, wearing flowy dresses and hair pieces. You'd catch anyone's eye from a mile away, he thinks every time he sees you.

Dutch is sitting outside with Molly, eating whatever dinner there was available, pretty quietly it seems. Not a word is exchanged between them. You wonder where the tension started, why Dutch is so avoidant of her.

You come closer after spectating from a distance, you sit down at a picnic blanket a bit further away from them. Everyone seems to be out and about, minding their own business, you sit under a tree, enjoying the shadow it's supplying you.

Dutch meets your eye again, seemingly unaware of Molly's burning gaze at him. You try not to pay attention.

I wish I could read his mind, you thought. His signals are mixed all of the time.

Molly is clearly upset with him, for whatever reason, it isn't anything new to anyone.

He does his best to look proper. He freshens up his hair and his beard, he dresses in his finest suits around you and takes care of himself. His feelings were eating at him, practically eyeing you down like a hawk whenever he got the chance.

You're still standing outside now, it's night time, the stars are up and bright in the sky. He walks over to you, and your heart rate skyrockets. "How are you holdin' up, young lady?" you feel like you could die.

Usually he talks to you with confidence in his speech, fast-paced and never slurred. Right now, he looks like a flustered and smiling mess in front of you. "Dutch, have you been drinking? You seem awfully joyous this night,"

Not usually him. Just talking to him makes the butterflies in your stomach erupt. The cigar hanging off of his lips, he looks you up and down. "Well, there ain't much else to do at night, eh? You've been awfully quiet as well. Anything you thinkin' about?" he talks slurred, like he's zoned out or out of focus.

You assume he'd had a bit much. You stand and talk with him throughout the night, happy for his company and being able to see his face for however long. Eventually, the conversation gets deeper. More passionate. More... intimate. He's standing closer as well, he smells of whiskey, cigarettes and floral perfume. That must be Molly's, you presume.

He's looking you in the eye as he speaks about the things he's passionate about, like he can see right through you. You put your hand on his shoulder, a way of grounding you. Or him as well, as it takes him by shock, his eyes widen and he looks at you like you're crazy.

Is this too much? It can't be, if he had had enough of you, he wouldn't have been sticking around for so long. No doubt. He reciprocates after a while though, sneaking his arm around your waist. You smile at that, he isn't so distant after all.

Now it was only to figure out how to make him yours forever.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ann Sothern (A Letter to 3 Wives, The Blue Gardenia)_ Another unsung comedienne of the 30s and 40s, not enough people know about Ann Sothern. She was, along with her bestie Lucille Ball, originally a Goldwyn gal, but was soon a featured star in pictures. She even headlined a series of films, the Maisie movies. And though she was known for her comedies, but I fell in love with her after her dramatic role in A Letter to 3 Wives. I also absolutely love her in the noir murder mystery The Blue Gardenia. She was absolutely stunning, and I am always excited to find a movie of hers to watch. She's high on my list of "Why don't more people talk about her?" actresses

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ann Sothern:

She was so beautiful and had great comedic timing!

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

“Stranger Things”' Gaten Matarazzo Says 'Woman in Her 40s' Confessed to Having a 'Crush' on Him as a Teen: 'Upsetting'

(I'm not putting the whole article. Just a the relevant parts)

Stranger Things skyrocketed Gaten Matarazzo into stardom. However, fame has also come with some unwanted attention.

On Michael Rosenbaum’s Inside of You podcast, Matarazzo, 21, recounted a recent creepy fan interaction he had with a “woman in her 40s,” who said, “I’ve had a crush on you since you were 13.”

“I was like, ‘That’s upsetting!’” the Honor Society actor said. “[I thought] like, ‘I’m sure she just meant, ‘Aw, this kid’s cute,’ but then she doubled down. Like, ‘I’m aware of the age difference,’ and then I was like, ‘Alright.’”

Matarazzo noted that the woman’s daughter witnessed the uncomfortable ordeal, even interjecting to say to her mother, “Mom, what the f---?”

“I swear to God, this girl must have been like 13,” he recalled. When Rosenbaum, 51, asked how he reacted to the exchange, Matarazzo said he “couldn’t” laugh. Instead, he looked over at his mother, who was sitting next to him.

Rosenbaum and Matarazzo also discussed fans touching them inappropriately in public, with the latter adding that he’s “had a few butt grabs for sure.”

I will say majority of the comments expressed disgust and called her out which I was very happy to see!

However, there were some comments in defense of her that we gotta talk about

He has a right to speak about it. I've seen other comments bringing up how middle aged women behaved towards Justin Bieber, Taylor Lautner, etc. It's not something he should have to keep to himself, especially when it clearly made him uncomfortable

I don't know why this is so hard to believe? If you've been in any kind of fandom or in the comment section on social media, you'd see some really nasty things that were being said. Yes, even to minors

It matters because there are other celebrities like Gaten who had people saying creepy/sexualizing things to them. It should be called out, not dismissed just because she didn't 'do something about it.'

And I'll be honest, if you look at this and think that calling out this behavior is 'regulating" people's thoughts, then I don't have a good feeling about you

Teenagers having crushes, even if it's on someone much older, is way different than an adult having a 'crush' on a child. What makes you look at someone that young in that way in the first place??

Some people were convinced that she hadn't meant it the way that it sounds. The second to last commenter is really trying to make us believe that. But we know what people mean when they say they have a crush on somebody. The woman even said that she was aware of the age difference so she has enough awareness to know that it was wrong

How exactly are we supposed to take those words? Even if she just wanted a "deeper friendship" with him, it's still creepy to say that to a 13 year old when you're a grown adult

There's just some things we shouldn't take lightly. Automatically assuming it's innocent when it's something like this isn't fair to these child actors. They shouldn't have to deal with these inappropriate comments only to have other people to make excuses for them. That's how people get away with it

[munson-blurbs]

Hiiiiiiiiiiii this is hellfirehottie420 here to drool about argyle. Maybe you could write something where he’s a protective soft dom and you’re both just big Simps for each other and you’re passenger princess while he sells to a few people and then y’all hang out the the elder Hawkins crew? 🥺🥺🥺

But literally I’ll ready anything you write so do whatever you want with it angel

Welcome to the Argyle Simps Club, @hellfirehottie420 💚 we've been waiting for you.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (m!receiving), dom/sub dynamics, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, babes), mentions of drug use/dealing, slight dacryphilia if you squint, use of "good girl"

WC: 1.6k

--

“Hey, baby,” Argyle says, kissing you sweetly as you slide into the passenger seat of his van. “How was work?” 

You sigh, leaning back on the headrest, and look over at him. “I mean, y’know how it is,” you tell him as you stifle a yawn, “the flowers are great; the customers are brutal.” You sit up a bit straighter, resting your hand on his. “Some woman came in, super pissed off, because the bouquet she bought last week wilted, and demanded a refund. I literally had to explain to a grown-ass woman that flowers die.”

Your boyfriend laughs, pressing his lips to your cheek, and you feel yourself smiling despite your stressful day. “Pretty sure the same lady came into Surfer Boy today, too. She ate three slices of pizza and then complained that they had the wrong toppings.”

“Sounds like her,” you wryly agree. “Anyway, I just wanna get home and cuddle up, watch a movie, maybe smoke a little bit.” You bat your eyelashes and twirl a lock of his long raven hair, a move you know he can’t resist. 

“You read my mind, amor,” Argyle says. “I just have to do a quick deal, and then you have me all to yourself.”

You jut out your lower lip in a pout. “But I want all of you now,” you whine, not even attempting to hide the double entendre. 

Argyle leans in, voice low and raspy in your ear. “You’re being a brat.” The words send shivers down your spine, and you reflexively squeeze your thighs together. “I’m gonna remember that later.”

A whimper escapes you, and you watch as the corners of his mouth twitch into a proud smirk. He knows the effect he has on you, and he’s not afraid to lean into it. His left hand grips the steering wheel, and his right hand lands on your upper thigh, fingertips gently digging into their plush. He leans back in his seat, more than happy to feel you squirm at the barest touch. 

He pulls into the public pool’s parking lot, reaches across the console like you’re not even there, and grabs a baggie from the glove compartment. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles. “Be a good girl and stay right here, mmkay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you manage, and he slams the van door shut and jogs off. 

You fiddle with the radio, flipping back and forth between the Top 40 station and Argyle’s usual ska. When both are only playing commercials, you snap the music off and let your mind wander. 

What’s my punishment gonna be this time? Maybe I can weasel my way out of it if I give him a sexy surprise. 

Where is he, anyway?

His deals usually take 30 seconds, especially with established clients. He’d been dealing to this lifeguard for the whole summer, so it shouldn’t take this long. 

Just as you’re about to get out and start looking for him—punishment be damned—he walks back through the gate, looking irritated. 

“Baby?” you say when he gets back to the van. “What happened?”

Argyle flings his door open before climbing in and angrily yanking it shut. “Fuckin’ idiot, trying to tell me that I charged him less last week,” he grumbles, starting the engine and accelerating back onto the main road. “I was like, ‘nah, bro, this is the same price as it’s been the whole summer,’ but he kept fuckin’ insisting that I was ripping him off.”

Your boyfriend rarely gets pissed off, so seeing him so distressed catches you off-guard. “Are you okay? Did he—he didn’t hurt you, right?”

Argyle scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s too much of a punk for that.” He pulls up to a red light, sitting up a bit straighter, and continues. “He was like, ‘didn’t get enough tips today, Pizza Boy? Gotta upsell this trash pot?’” 

“What’d you do?”

He shrugs. “Sold it to him for what he wanted, then told him to find a new dealer. But now I gotta dip into my own funds to cover the difference,” he groans, slamming a fist against the wheel. 

You pause, considering your options to get him back to his typical happy-go-lucky self. You could continue talking to him about it, or…

At the next red light, you toy with the elastic waistband of his neon pants, sliding your hand down his boxers. He hisses at the sudden contact. 

“P-Princesa, what’re you—” But you interrupt his question by wrapping your hand around his cock; it’s already half-hard. Slowly stroking him, you glide your thumb over the bead of pre-cum at his tip, using it to help your languid motions. 

“I can feel you growing in my hand,” you murmur. “Wonder what it would feel like in my mouth.” With that, you free his length from its confinement, leaning down and taking him between your parted lips. Your tongue swirls around the head, making him buck his hips slightly. 

“Thassit, baby,” Argyle grunts, lazily grabbing at the back of your head. “You know exactly how to make me feel better. Always such a good girl f’me.” 

You nod as best as you can with his cock still in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and opening your throat to take him deeper. 

“Don’t stop till we get back home,” he orders, struggling to stay focused on the road. “Even if I cum, just swallow an’ keep going.”

You don’t answer him directly; instead, you use your hand to tend to the parts you can’t reach with your mouth. He sighs in contentment. 

“Sh-shit, ‘s like all my problems disappear when you suck me off,” he muses, stretching his legs as much as he can. “Hit the fuckin’ jackpot with you, baby.” In response, you remove your hand from his shaft and take as much of him in your mouth as you can. The van veers slightly into the next lane, and Argyle lets out a guttural, wanton moan as he pulls over to the shoulder. You’re caught off-guard when he nudges you upwards, and his cock slips from your lips with a wet pop.

“Wasn’t done,” you whine, leaning back down to continue, but he shakes his head. Beads of sweat make his hair stick to his forehead.

“Ride me, Princesa,” Argyle groans, helping you onto his lap. You tug his pants down slightly, revealing more of his thick, muscular thighs. He bunches your skirt up around your waist, clumsily pushing your panties to the side as he runs his hard cock through your wet folds. Knowing that he hasn’t fully prepped you yet, he slowly eases you down onto his length. “Take your time, baby,” he coos, putting his big hands on your hips as you get comfortable. “You’ll get there; you can take all of me. ‘S no rush, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you manage, wincing slightly as he stretches you. You’ve been together for ages, but you’re still pleasantly surprised at the way he feels inside you. “‘M good now. J-Just…help me move?”

His hands grip your hips tighter, helping you rock back and forth. You drape your arms over his broad shoulders, throwing your head back as he hits your sweet spot over and over. “You’re doing such a good job,” he praises, stretching up to kiss you deeply. “My pretty girl, riding me so nice. Making me feel so–fucking–good.” He snaps his hips upwards, quickening the pace and thrusting you full-throttle towards your own orgasm. 

“Gonna cum,” you choke out, tears pooling in your eyes at the sensation of him filling you completely. 

Argyle smirks, cocking his head slightly. “Gotta ask first, pretty girl. You know you’re not supposed to cum without permission.”

Frustrated, you cry out, “Please, please let me cum. ‘M s’close, please.” You sound so pathetic, so needy. It’s exactly what he wants.

“Cum for me,” he relinquishes, pressing a thumb to your clit and making quick but deliberate circles. “Cum all over my cock.” The overstimulation has you doing exactly what he says, and the coil in your belly snaps as you ride out your high. He’s spilling into you seconds later, sputtering and swearing.

The two of you stay connected for a few moments, catching your breath and kissing each other. “I gotta move you now, Princesa,” Argyle finally says, and you mewl as he helps you off of his softening cock. A mixture of your releases trickles down your thigh, and he scoops it up with two fingers and brings it to your lips. You accept it, earning yourself another good girl.

The rest of the short ride home is spent in a delicious post-sex haze. You’re so fucked out that you barely register the old, beat-up El Camino in the driveway.

“Shit!” Argyle slams his hands against the steering wheel, jolting you from your daze. “I totally forgot that I told Byers we’d go see a movie tonight.” Sure enough, Jonathan is sitting on the front stoop, smoking a joint. When he spots the Surfer Boy Pizza van, he snuffs it out and walks over.

“Hey, man…and lady,” he laughs, running his fingers through his overgrown shaggy hair. “Dude, we still on for tonight, or do you have, uh, other plans?” he adds, taking in both of your disheveled appearances.

Argyle gives a sheepish grin. “Raincheck? I’ll buy the popcorn, I swear.” 

Jonathan just chuckles again, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Nah, man, it’s cool. Will was dying to see it anyway, so I’ll just take him.” He unlocks his car, throwing over his shoulder, “You kids have fun…but not too much fun!”

“Baby,” you start, kissing Argyle’s cheek happily, “you coulda gone to the movies with him. I wouldn’t mind.”

“‘S cool,” he replies, giving you a smug grin. “Besides, I still owe you your punishment for being such a little brat earlier, don’t I?”

--

[cinamun]

i gotta question.

In the flashback where mercy and jackson were in the kitchen, she said, "I miss us." Does that mean they were together in the past, and then they broke up and he married Mercy, bringing her into the band? Because I could understand Bertie's pain, watching the man you love marry a younger woman and "flaunting" her in your face. In her mind, she might have justified it by saying, "He was mine first! He was always mine!" Probably also asked herself, "What does this little girl have that I don't?"

Which brings me to the next point. It's hard not to look at Jackson as somewhat creepy for even shacking up with someone that young, and even having a baby with her at his big old age. I also wonder, based on a couple of the flashbacks, if he married her partly for the sake of control. Maybe Bertie, being grown, wasn't going along with whatever Jackson wanted for their personal life. So Mercy would seem like a great choice because she hadn't experienced enough to want something different?

Friend!! 1st paragraph, that's literally how the entire scene went down. Bertie presented as a bitter ex who couldn't get over a younger, prettier new boo thang hanging on the arms of an award-winning jazz pianist that she couldn't keep for herself. Also those last couple of sentences would make a great case for her being the one who actually unpixeled him.... I digress 👀

As for the 2nd paragraph, Mercy wasn't a kid. The age difference was between 10 and 15 years as I mentioned when someone else asked about it. She was likely in her early/mid 20s when they met he was likely early/mid 40s. Some people dig that. I don't judge. She was an adult and said herself that men build character with age (according to Jayce). He didn't shack up and have a baby with her. He married her and together, as a married couple, they had a child.

When Mercy mentioned that she was tired of being controlled, I believe she meant that Jackson tried to control how she reacted to this affair. He tried to control the narrative as we saw in the flashbacks, until he couldn't anymore (Friday's update). I think he married her because he loved her but is also probably authoritative just in general (the flashback of him telling her to get in the car because they had bills to pay).

Also, I gotta ask; if Bertie was so grown, why couldn't she have that conversation with Jackson when he was sober? Why did she confront him while he was impaired? Even Jackson said Mercy was more of grown woman than her. I think Bertie has always been petty and here we are.

[theintrovertbean]

Do you think Nadia really feels like Nasmira (or her other siblings) would actually steal MC away from her? Despite their tense relationship with Nadia, I can’t really see any of them intentionally going after any of her romantic interests. It seems so callous, and all of them love Nadia to bits! Maybe it was her annoyance at her family showing up unannounced speaking for her? I’d love to hear your thoughts, as a fellow Nadi-enjoyer!

The short answer is yes. I do think that she felt like her siblings would steal MC away from her.

Now the long answer, aka an entire essay:

I honestly think that something happened in the past which made Nadi think that one of her siblings stole a LI from her. For example, maybe there was a visiting noble/royalty, and young Nadi (by young, I mean late teens/early 20s) had a massive crush on them. I hc her as someone who was quite shy in her youth, so maybe she never made it obvious that she was interested, plus she probably had no desire to tell her family about her feelings. Therefore, her siblings had no idea, and another one of the Satrinavas happened to crush on the same person. In the end, Nadi didn't get together with them, but her sibling did, which broke her heart to a million pieces. Of course, it was unintentional, but young Nadi was hurt and stubborn, so she thought they did it just to hurt her.

Anyway, back to the question. Even though she feels like they would, I don't think any of the Satrinavas have any intention of stealing MC away from Nadia, but the unannounced visit was definitely making things worse. Nadi was so pissed, and one negative thought usually led to another. It's no wonder she thought that they'd take MC away from her. In Nadia's eyes, MC is the whole package, the most perfect person to ever exist, and she wants them all for herself. She has been hurt in the past, and all she could see was that her family was coming to Vesuvia to take away everything that belonged to her: her freedom, achievements, and MC. If they really have "stolen" an LI from Nadia and now she has MC, who is a much better person than anyone she has ever encouraged, she feels like her siblings would want MC too (which they do, but this time, Nadi called dibs on MC and they respect that.)

And now I'm gonna say stuff that some people might not like. I think that the more mature Nadia tries to behave, the more childish she is. Yes, Nadia is childish. Nadia is a grown ass woman in her 30s/40s, and I know that she is well-mannered and serious, but she is far from mature. I love her, and you all know that, but our Countess is not known for making the best decisions regarding her personal life. Why is that? Because even though she hates it when people treat her like a child, she still behaves like one.

As the oldest child, I can honestly tell you that, yeah, we can be assholes, but we want our younger siblings to succeed in life without making the same mistakes as we did. We paved the way so that the younger kids wouldn't have to walk in mud. I'm certain this is what happened to Nadia, but she thought that her family was just babying her. In reality, they loved, respected, and supported her through anything and everything. They just wanted what was best for her, and our dear Countess Goddess Nadia Satrinava misunderstood the whole fucking thing.

Nadia is a more rational person, and perhaps empathy isn't her strong suit. Therefore, there is no way she could imagine the way her siblings view her. In addition, Nadia is stubborn, so even if her siblings tried to communicate their feelings and intentions, Nadia simply dismissed them and told herself that they were lying.

Feelings usually happen for a reason. In Nadia's case, they stem from misunderstandings because of her lack of empathy and stubbornness.

Despite everything I've just said, Nadia is a good person, but she was in desperate need of a reality check. For her, it was MC. It might take her some time to fully realize her mistakes, but without MC's help, she wouldn't have realized the true nature of her siblings.

And yet, I still fucking love her to death. This adds so much more depth to her character, but people usually fail to see it. She seems like she could never do anything wrong, but that is so not true. Nadia is the exact opposite of how she appears at first. She seems strong, but she is vulnerable. She seems mature, but she is childish. Nadia is probably the most misunderstood character I've ever seen in my entire life, and that is one more reason to love her.

In conclusion, Nadia is someone who struggles a lot with her feelings. She needs to keep a more open mind and try to imagine herself in people's places to avoid any further hurt. Her character is very complex and requires a lot of analyzing to fully understand, but that is what makes her truly beautiful. Nadia is the kind of person you can fall in love with at first sight, but to fully understand her, you might need an entire lifetime.

I might have gotten a bit carried away

[chaifootsteps]

There is an "artist" in the hyspanic side of the art internet community that reminds me so much of Vivziepop:

Her name is "Angel de la verdad" (Angel of truh in spanish, wich is a very ironic name lol), and she is know for being a grown ass woman (she is almost 40) that acts childish and cant take criticism.

People started making fun of her because she would react badly to any kind of criticism; she would make big tantrums every time someone made a video criticising her work and would send her fans (all of them being literal children because she made videos about sonic, undertale and other things that were popular between them) to harrass and attack them, then negate that she did that. She would also claim that those who have any little negative opinion on her art were haters and would call them childish insults like "rats" and encourage her fans to do the same.

One day she got mad beef with a literal 14yo boy cuz he made a video saying that her Sonic fancomics were cringe, and that made her so mad, that she took down that video, made several video directs making fun of that child, made a drawing where she potrayed him as a crying child while she was scolding him, told lies about how he was harassing and stalking her when she was the one doing that, and even threaten to doxx him because she got his personal information.

She became a very hated figure, in every video she uploaded you would see she had like 40k views but only like 10 comments cause she would erase any "hate" comment calling her out, only keeping the ones made by her bootlickes that couldnt be over the age of 8.

I remember she even did a video "debunking" her acusations, and in the part of the doxxing she said "i never said i would leak personal information of that child! I just told him to behave, and to not give his information to strangers!" Thing that is obviously a lie. She also showed screenshot of personal conversations she had with him "proving" that he was harrassing her, but they were basically her insulting him and he responding with "lol ok".

The latest thing i knew about her is that she posted on twitter that she would sue some youtuber who made a video on her revealing all the things she did, she claimed that the video was "defaming" her and that she already got a lawer. That was about a year ago and nothing happened, so i guess it was all a lie lol.

Viziepop reminds me a bit of her, in the sense that she is also over the age of 30 and still cant take criticism in a mature way. Maybe she doesnt openly insult her "haters", but she inderectly encourages her fans to be horrible people to those who dont like her work.

I was thinking, if Vivzie didnt have a reputation to take care of, she would be similar to the lady i talked about, maybe not to the point of doxxing a child, but in the sense that she would post on her social media the links of videos where she gets criticised and telling her fans to attack them, then acting all inocent with "those mean haters were attacking me 🥺 i was just defending myself..."

But she cant do that, right now she is know as "the saviour of indie animation", as a goddess of pure positivity that inspires others and will get her work shown on TV, that behaviour would ruin her reputation in a second.

So now i can imagine her sitting in front of the computer, looking for people who criticise her work. She would get the idea of making a post so her fans attack them, but then she glances at the poster on her wall, wich says "reminder: you have a reputation on the internet, DONT fuck it up". So she just growls angrily, and limits herself to like comments of her bootlickers defending her.

(Also, little fun fact about Angel de la verdad: she has a sister who is EXACTLY like her, a mediocre internet artists who acts childish and throws tantrums in the sight of criticism. Many people used to belive they were the same person with different users, but they have different voices and pictures together so we know they arent, the world is a crazy place).

Thank you for this story, Anon, and also for this peek into Vivzie's Christmas future.

(Hopefully.)

[mrabubu]

Does Syanna deserves redemption, and why she doesn't?

Ok, so by this moment some of you might know that I'm a huge fan of The Witcher 3, and for some time "Blood and Wine" DLC and it's endings been a huge dilemma for me. When I played it the first time about 3-4 years ago, I didn't really though much about my own choice, and went for "the best ending", because everyone considered it to be the best, but after all this time I started to think, is it really the best, and does Syanna really deserves redemption and to be forgiven? So, to finally summarise, I've decided to make this post, with my own analysis, facts and lines from the game itself... Because I just need to get it out of my system, so yeah... Let's start.

So my main problem in all this is Syanna herself, her motives, past and all... Yeah, ok, she was traumatized, treated awfully by her family, but after some analysis, I don't feel any sympathy towards her.

People use her childhood as an argument to her actions, but has anyone though about if she even tried to act differently? From what we learn from the game, and from Anarietta herself, Syanna never even tried to change. Syanna had many chances to stop this all or to start over, but she didn't care, because she didn't want to change. She admits herself that even if she had a chance (and she did had) to start over, she wouldn't change anything, and if people see her as a monster, she will be one.

Even Anarietts herself admits and never hides that Syanna was cruel, selfish and possessive.

Not to mention unquestionably terrible things she did and didn't feel any remorse or even laughed at, like the story with Cedric and his brother whom he killed because of Syanna's "prank". Torturing fairy tale creatures in the land of a thousand fables to the point when they feel terrified when she approaches. Or even that story which led to her exile: why didn't Syanna stop Anarietts from setting those balloons on fire which they then threw at that envoy? I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure this didn't went without any consequences for him.

After some thinking, I can't even be sure that Anarietta is to blame. Anarietta was the youngest in the family, and as most youngest, she looked up to her older sibling. In some way, Syanna was the one who raised Anarietta to be the way she was and to be like her older sister. Even Syanna admits so, by saying that Anarietta wanted to impress her. Syanna had to take responsibility for her actions, or at least understand that when time will come to find a culprit, she will be the one to blame. I will also remind that Syanna spent most of her life as a bandit, even became a leader of the gang, which means she probably did a lot of more terrible things, stealing, blackmailng, hurting or even killing people for her own gain. I'm pretty sure she wasn't a female version of Robin Hood.

Syanna's "motivation" lies in resentment toward a child, and even after decades, Syanna never understood that her 12-13 year old sister couldn't do much to change what was coming. Even Geralt understood all this after knowing her for a couple of days.

She never wanted to try and contact Anarietta, talk to her about all that happened then. A grown up, probably about 30-40 years old woman, holding a grudge towards a child, whom Anarietta was back then. She was fine to just kill her younger sister without even trying to solve this peacefully, just ask "why?", even though Anarietta herself tried to find Syanna, but she "didn't wish to be found", to which Syanna never argued, meaning she willingly avoided any chances to talk this out, while Anarietta was the only one who actually held love towards her sibling throughout all these years and tried to do something.

And Syanna saying that she's angry with Anarietta not because she didn't stood up for her, but because "she forgot", I'm sorry, sounds like total b u l l s h i t, because we know and she knows this isn't true. After all this I'm not even sure Syanna really loved Anarietta, if she so easily convinced herself that her little sister is a traitor, forgot about all that they been through, and after at least two decades the only way for her to solve this is to just get rid of Anarietta by somebody else's hands and make an entire scene of this like it was a perfomance. Irony of all this is that Syanna accused Anarietta that she didn't stood up for her because she wanted to take the throne to herself, but a lot of things points to that it is Syanna who just uses her "trauma" and knight's "dishonesty" as an excuse to kill her sister and take the throne. After all this, this was her point at the "court".

The difference between Syanna and Dettlaff is that Dettlaf doesn't kill for fun or joy, while Syanna does. Make Cedric kill his brother was a joke to her. Setting a person on fire made her laugh, "Never laughed so hard in my life", as she said.

Using and blackmailing a person who loved her meant nothing to her and never made her feel guilty or shame, even to the point of blaming him for being too trusting.

Even Geralt was used by her, which she admits at some point by telling she was nice to him only to "get him to sleep with her", which makes this whole thing even more disgusting for me as in all this situation one of the few thing Syanna could think of was s e x. People to her is nothing but toys or tools, even those who love her and saw in her more than she is.

Another difference between those two is that Dettlaff actually tried for many years, if not decades, to live peacefully among humans, helping them, and that is a fact backed up by words or others, and not only by Regis's words, while the only person who tried to defend Syanna was Anarietta, only because they were siblings and Anarietta felt guilty.

And another only person who could tell something about Syanna was her another simple victim she used and manipulated for her own gain.

Even her decision to help to stop Dettlaff doesn't feel like something she decided to do willingly, but something she did under pressure, because she had no choice. She admitted herself that she would prefer just to run away rather than face Dettlaff, but I guess it's hard to do so when another higher vampire and a witcher standing in front of you.

And do you remember that moment when we first got to the land of a thousand fables, and Syanna asks us what are we doing here, and if we choose the sarcastic line, she genuinely doesn't understand why are we ended up here, meaning she either forgot about Dettlaff's threat and her "promise" to help, or just didn't care from the start.

And, honestly, right after Dettlaff fled and Syanna met Anarietta, why didn't she try to stop Anarietta from taking her away? Didn't she just told us that Dettlaff means no joke and meeting with him is "the least she could do"? Why didn't she try to argue, saying that Bauclair is in danger now, and that Syanna has to go and meet Dettlaff. From what we got, it more looked like Syanna wanted to be taken away to sneak out later and just run away.

If we would've gotten a scene where we see that Syanna had a chance to run away but in the end decided to keep her word, that would've been one thing, but all that we see is that she either goes willingly, or Geralt and Regis will probably drag her to Tesham Mutna with broken legs.

But you know what could actually fix this whole situation for me? If in the game we were told that Syanna actually tried to change. If in this accident, that led to her exile, it would've been established that Syanna tried to stop Anarietta, and when she tried to explain what actually happened no one believed her, and Anarietta didn't tell the truth, all this would've actually worked. But no.

And after all this, in the end, she never admits her fault. Everyone, in her opinion, was to blame, while she's the one and only saint and innocent, who did nothing wrong. She never apologises for what she was doing to people, never thinks that maybe some part of her life was the cause of her own actions and not wanting to at least try and not provoke others. We have, as an example, second DLC, Hearts of stone, where we have Olgierd, who was also a terrible man, but the main difference between Syanna and him, that he admits he himself caused what he got, that he caused so much pain to those he loved,

and in the ending where he survives, we at least see him wanting to start a new life, even tho he lost everything he had and loved.

We don't see anything remotely like this from Syanna. While Olgierd regects his past and decides to start a new life, "take faith in his own hands", Syanna keeps blaming the world for everything wrong in her life, her parents, her sister, the knights, never considering that maybe she also did something wrong.

And in this "best ending" everyone just forgave her and forgot about all these sick things she did across her life, while our/Geralt's best friend, who we know for a long time, if you consider books, helped Geralt many times, once already died fighting for us in the battle agains Vilgefortz, basically tortured himself to find out why Dtttlaff is doing what he's doing, in this ending became "anathema", is chased by his own kind, and had to kill a person who saved his life and was the one who actually tried to change.

And so, in the end we have a sadistic, self-centered psychopath, who used, hurt, manipulated and lied to those who trusted her, never expressed any kind of remorse towards those she hurt, never reflected on her life and never even tried to change to prove that she's a better person from who people though she was.

If to choose, I would choose to safe Dettlaff, because unlike Syanna, he tried to change, and I do believe that this character could be redeemed and never wanted any of this from the start, and the fact is a fact that if not for Syanna, nothing of this would've happened. After learning more about Vampire's lore, talking to Regis about how hard it is for them to live among humans, I actually feel sorry for him and Dettlaff. Yes, Dettlaff did terrible thing, he's impulsive and because of that many people died, but that's why the game give us an option to kill him too. I, myself, would never choose to save Syanna and give her a happy ending after all she did and whi she is. For me, she's unquestionably unredeemable.

[opinated-user]

I find it really telling that lily has continued to rag on her sister ever since those posts by her sister came out. Like she hadn't talked much about her before but now she brings her up every few weeks in bits that make her look better, yet it's in very dumb, petty ways.

Like her bragging her taste in men was better because her younger sister liked twilight back when it was popular while she liked Wolverine, the big action hero.

Or making fun of her 12 year old sister for not understanding she was abused/ unfairly punished by their parents, while Lily was super enlightened and saw it was all bullshit (also weirdly saying they were both 12, even though she's older).

I would understand her calling out her sister now for being transphobic, because her remarks about lily's gender were, but it's really victim blamey to mock her in the past for being an abused child. Like sure hate her now for her transphobic words, but why try own on her sister in the past when she was an equally abused little kid? It's just really petty and mean.

I also just don't believe lily was as enlightened as she claims--I mean all the things she says she always thought, even as a very young child are just way to adult and obviously something you learn with insight.

i have to admit: of all the reactions i could have imagined from LO after being accussed of molesting her own sister, talk as a 31 year old woman about she having better taste in men than a 12 year old little girl and somehow bringing up Twilight is certainly... a choice. it's also not something to brag having the same taste as a 40+ year old (as i assume her mom was back then) woman as a kid. at least Courtney was liking characters that were closer to her age and were meant to be relatable for her. Twilight was created for girls like her, she had every right to enjoy it all she wanted to. no wonder a 12 year old is not going to be interested on a 40+ year old man! does she really not realize how actually creepy this is? does she not understand she's basically talking way too much about the sexualiaty of her pre-teen sister? just how disturbing it is to make this into some kind of competition... with the girl who is currently accusing her of molesting her on her sleep? this misogyny is also reminding me to how she talks about the teenage girls that like hunter. can someone explain to LO that bashing teenage girls online for the crime of liking teenage characters is not the hot leftist take that she think it is? this is just the same kind of reasoning i have seen a bunch of reactionaries have before, it's not progressive and most of us are tired of seeing it.

reminder that Courtnery, LO's sister, did called her a golden child... while refering to someone else about how she openly talked about being SA by both of her sibling and her parents doing nothing about it. if a kid is going through that and that they can see that nothing is done to the responsible of her abuse, what else could she think? i think she's meant to say "another girl around her same age", because LO i think it's two years older than Courtney. still... this is just sad and pathetic. if Courtney did had 12 years old back then, this happened more than a decade ago, almost two decades at this point, and LO is still reeling about it as a full grown 31 years old. this would be extremely unhealthy coming from about anyone, but coming after being accused of something so monsterous, this is sick and twisted.

LO, stop talking about 12 year old little girls, their sexuality and their challenge already. this is disgusting.

[b0y-artist]

Just a little snippet of an old idea. May write on it more later, I'm really proud of how this came out!

"So, Mr. And Mr. Mason, I take it?" A young woman who looked to be in her early 40's asked. She was holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. She wore an old washed-out jacket with flowers printed on the back, and a pleated skirt that reached her knees. The boys could hear the click of her heels as she led them upstairs through the apartment building.

Seven involuntarily felt his face heat up, he wasn't sure what to say exactly. She thought they were married? I mean, he can't blame her. They *were* moving into an apartment together after all. To anyone else they could easily be mistaken as a couple. *Maybe.* But married???

Not that Seven would mind if–

"Oh! Uh, n-no, w-we're not– he's Fellon, and *I'm* Mason." Mono mumbled, scratching at the back of his head nervously. Seven thought it was kind of cute whenever Mono got nervous. Wait, that sounded gay. Is he gay?

It's not like Seven had *time* to explore his sexuality. When there're giant monsters that stop at nothing to kill you, who you have the hots for isn't really a top priority for most people.

But it's different now. They've grown up, and the Signal Tower doesn't exist anymore. Life was finally going back to normal. With nothing left to fear, Seven is finally able to relax. Mostly, he found himself thinking.

Thinking. That was the problem. Beforehand Seven didn't have time to stop and think, because he was always running from danger. But now, Seven has *time* to think, and lately, he's been thinking of Mono. A lot. Way more than is typically normal for a person to think of another person who they deem a friend.

He doesn't know what changed, Mono's been by his side since they were little. So why now is he having these thoughts? Thoughts that he's *way* too embarrassed to say out loud. Like how much Mono's smile may be the best thing he's ever had the pleasure of seeing. Or how those dark eyes remind him of the night sky, sparkling with millions of stars.

AH! SEE?! there he goes again! Maybe it's just stupid teenage hormones and typical infutation, but something tells him that it's not, that it's something *more.*

–And that scared the shit out of him.