#how to find remote developer jobs

[olivergisttv]

Remote Tech Jobs: How to Find and Land Them

In 2025, remote work is no longer a perk — it’s the standard for many tech roles. Whether you’re aiming for more freedom, better work-life balance, or simply want to ditch the daily commute, the remote tech job market is booming. From entry-level support roles to advanced cloud engineering positions, companies across the globe are hiring remote-first talent. The catch? You have to know where to…

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[river-selkie]

I was raised by a bear therian

Well, my dad never said himself that he's a bear therian, but even without the word "therian" being used, his experience as one was undeniable and incredibly clear to me. He spent much of my childhood talking about his dreams of Alaska, how the land there felt like home to him more than anywhere else on Earth. So much so that when the military asked him if he was willing to move North into Alaska, he immediately jumped at the opportunity and spent several years of his life living in Fairbanks back when the weather was still frigid and sometimes volatile. He camped in the wilderness regularly and would tell me stories of caribou surrounding his tent in the mornings, large grizzlies wandering through the rivers, and scraggly wolves with summer pelts trotting across the land. His job handling search and recovery cases at the time encouraged this lifestyle, especially in winter when people would go missing on the roads or crash their bush planes in the woods and he had to find the deceased and bring them back to civilization. Funny enough, he confessed to having a search and recovery team come and look for him at one point after he got carried away and stayed out in the forest for a little too long, deciding to ride the river near him a few miles away just as a "fun idea" and scared my mother into thinking he died out there.

I wasn't alive yet when my dad lived in Alaska though. I had my dad shortly after he had left, and I saw how much he missed it even at a young age. I honestly visited the state so often with him that you'd assume I had family there, but to him, maybe the Northern animals were family. I complained about it back then since I'd be wearing puffy coats and winter accessories in the middle of summer when everyone else was going to Hawaii or Mexico, but I saw how happy he was whenever he'd have a wild caught salmon for dinner or get to walk close to a glacier. When he'd see icebergs in the water from boat tours he'd be sitting entirely outside on the deck during or, most importantly, the day he finally got a chance to visit Admiralty Island (better known as "Fortress of the Bear"). It had always been his dream to go and as he sat there at ease in the tall grass fields watching the giant brown bears graze the fields a mile away. He had a look on his face as if he was meant to be there forever, that he was never supposed to leave. It was hard to not gain a fondness for the place with how much he loved it, and my dad would even tell my sister and I that the remote wilderness of Alaska is where he wants his ashes to one day be placed. Inevitably, I'll be going back again one day to the "final frontier" for him to finally be able to stay there forever like he wanted.

When he wasn't in Alaska, he was at home with me in Colorado taking me on adventures in the Rocky mountains. He was an avid fish lover, always packing salmon, halibut, or a tuna sandwich. I don't think he ate much else when I was a kid, and before my fish allergy developed, that was pretty much my diet too. I think he honestly was disappointed when I wasn't able to eat fish anymore, lamenting on the fact that I never got to have another Alaskan salmon or try a smoked fish. Every time his back would get itchy, he'd scratch it by using the corner between the doorway and the wall, very reminiscent of a bear using a tree to get some unreachable spot which I laughed about to which he'd shrug and say "it's an instinct I guess". Dessert always had to have honey in it, but if honey wasn't available, it had to be something with pumpkin or berries. Pumpkin pie, berry pie, and pumpkin ice cream were his favorites and his birthday dinners usually involved one of the three instead of cake. He often watched bear documentaries with me too, namely one I remember about someone who was the "Grizzly Man" who lived mostly in the wild and met his end to the very bears he spent his life around and I also remember him enjoying Never Cry Wolf, a 1983 film set in Alaska's remote North as well. It inspired him to apply for the ticket lottery every year for over a decade to try and win a trip to Katmai to see the bears during the salmon run, which he inconveniently won when he was literally already in Alaska and about to head back home. Needless to say, his irritated groans and pouts weren't forgotten on the plane back to Colorado.

My mom was mostly absent from my life in the sense that she played no healthy or genuine part in raising me despite being under the same roof due to her relentless addictions, so I do feel as if my childhood was mostly defined by being my dad's "bear cub". He loved animals and taught me to respect them and nature tremendously, and his "abnormal" behaviors became something I now recognize as something I resonate with as a grown otter therian. I sometimes wonder if he raised me into otterhood and if I would still be a therian without his influence, or if my otterhood is something of a "family trait" given that my older sister strikes me as a bird therian in many ways too, but I find it amusing to consider that there are so many animalistic individuals in my family who could fall under the alterhuman umbrella, and yet have never uttered the word "therian" in their lives. I'm curious how many other people in the world are just like me and simply never wanted to label it or explore it deeper, or worse, how many people have had it shunned into the depths of themselves to be forgotten about? I for one am grateful that I can call myself nonhuman and live a life understanding why I am the way that I am, even if I'm unsure of the source.

[sugarwarachan]

18+ - older roommate! aizawa *barks*

you've only been aizawa's roommate for a couple months, but it's long enough to develop an absurd crush on him. he mostly keeps to himself, although lately he's taken to bringing you extra blankets when you fall asleep on the couch watching atla re-runs.

personally, you find it impossible to ignore him. he's broad and gruff and just manly in a way that makes your thighs press together whenever you see his chest hair poking out of his sleep shirt.

(the first time you saw the happy trail ducking into his sweatpants, you waited for him to leave for work before fucking yourself on the thickest dildo you own. you saw the outline of his cock; you know he's hung.)

the only saving grace of working your thankless job is that you can work remote, which usually leads to late nights hunched over the desk, blearily sorting data in cells.

just like how it is tonight, music blasting in your ears and an excel spreadsheet four inches away from your nose.

a hand falls on your shoulder.

flinging your headphones off, you whirl around to see aizawa backing away from you with his hands held up in surrender. he points at his ear. "your music will blow out your eardrums."

god, he's such a fucking dad sometimes.

(you do not let that thought linger longer than it has to.)

your voice comes out squeaky. "you scared me half to death!"

his lips quirk up, and fuck him for still being devastatingly handsome when he looks bone tired. "i should have announced myself. you okay?"

you rub your neck, one eye on the computer. "yeah, i'm fine."

aizawa zeroes in on the movement. "does your neck hurt?"

you can't help laughing. "i'm wound tight as a drum, so it's kind of par for the course."

he steps forward. "where does it hurt?"

"ummm..." your brain short-circuits. "sort of around here?" you gesture vaguely between your shoulder blades. "it's always the worst at the end of the day."

"turn around for me real quick, y/n."

you obey, and immediately, strong fingers sink into the muscles on either side of your neck. you shiver in his grasp at the unbelievable relief in tension.

"feel good?"

he's joking, right?

you manage a nod as he continues to work out the knots along your spine. "it feels really good."

he says nothing in reply, just keeps working the delicate muscles in your neck and shoulders until you're practically as loose as melted wax.

(later, when you've gone to bed, aizawa finally unbuckles his pants and releases his cock, flushed red and sticky with pre-cum and so sensitive to the touch that the second his palm slides over the shaft, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from cumming all over his belly)

2025 © all works belong to me, @sugarwarachan! do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. because this is a community and community thrives off interaction, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged!!! <3 and last but not least, f you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know!

general taglist <3 @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi, @waterfal-ling, @iluvikeu, @bach-ira

[wings-of-ink]

Author Update - Good News???

So, I can't go into all the details in their full stupid glory, but I have some news that is...a bit of a mixed bag (at least for me). I wish I could explain it all, but I can't given the nature of my job. I keep my private life veiled from my work life for good reason. If I balked about it like I wanted and my employer somehow found out, I could get into some trouble. They don't know what I get up to for the most part, and I like to keep it that way.

The summation that I can share with you is - I got bad news for my job - but I'm still technically employed. This isn't necessarily "detrimental" to me at this stage (I'm currently safe and I think I will keep my job), but it is a "final straw" sort of deal. This is coming from years and years of mistreatment. My employer is being horrible and shady/conniving/unfair, etc...(In my opinion, of course.) Honestly, that's not a new thing for them, but they continue to set records for the "how low can you go" competition. I've been there for over 11 years and I have their game memorized at this point. But - I'm stuck - for now.

So, I'm turning this into something good.

Soon, I'm going to be increasing my activity here and in writing. I desire to keep focusing on production of God-Cursed AND adding a new project to the mix as well. I also have a full novel that I'd like to publish one day, but it needs a good editing first.

Meanwhile, I'll likely be looking for avenues out of my current job. The dream would be to make a living on writing - but I'm realistic about that. It's not something that can happen easily or quickly so that's a more long-term goal, and it may never be possible for me, I just don't know. One of the biggest hurdles here is my healthcare or rather the cost thereof.

To be as transparent as possible, with how things are where I live, the ideal is finding a fully remote job that I can take with me anywhere, be it another state or even country. My spouse and I have talked at length about relocating *somewhere* when it is feasible, but we need to determine where to lay anchor. We are very much in the air about this and at the mercy of many things - jobs, finances, families, the logistics. A flexible job would be key in helping us determine where we will end up. Our current location just does not have good prospects for employment, which is why I have been at this same job for so long even though they haven't been good to me.

This is a bit of a gift and a curse for me, lol. I'm looking forward to being able to move forward on the production of new things at least. I have some details to work out around it all, but you will likely hear more from me in the coming weeks.

So that's my news. I'm doubting any of this will turn around and change for the better, but if there are any developments (good or bad), I'll let you know. I'm determined to use this as an opportunity to create and grow. ^_^

[qqueenofhades]

do you have any advice for those in the very early stages of thesis-writing? currently desperately clinging to the mantra of "shitty first drafts," et al

Unfortunately, there is no place where you will more whole-assedly have to embrace the "shitty first draft" mantra than in academic writing, especially in thesis writing, especially if this is your first-ish crack at an advanced and major piece of original research. I'm not sure if this is for an undergraduate senior thesis, a MA-level thesis, or (my true and heartfelt sympathies) a PhD dissertation, but the basic principles of it will remain the same. So there is that, at least. This means that yes, you will write something, you may even feel slightly proud of it, and then you will hand it into your supervisor and they will more or less kindly dismantle it. You have to train yourself to have a thick skin about this and not take it as a personal insult, and if your supervisor is remotely good at their job (not all of them are, alas) they will know how to be tactful about it and not make it feel like a direct and extensive commentary on your private worth as a person. But you will have to swallow it and do what you can, which can include -- if you're the one who has done the research and know that's how you want to present it and/or you are correct about it -- pushing back and having a conversation with them about how you think your original approach does work best. But that will come later. The first step is, yes, to mentally gird yourself to receive critical feedback on something that you have worked hard on, and to understand that no matter how much you grump and grumble and deservedly vent to your friends and so on, implementing the feedback will usually make your piece better and stronger. That is the benefit of working with a trained expert who knows what makes a good piece of research in your particular academic field, and while it doesn't get easier, per se, at least it gets familiar. Be not afraid, etc.

If you're in the writing stage, I assume that you've moved past the topic-selection and general-research stage, but allow me to plump once more the services of your friendly local university library. You can (or at least you can at mine and probably in any decently well-equipped research university) schedule a personal consultation with an expert librarian, who can give you tips on how to find relevant subject databases, create individual research guides (these might already be available on the university library website for classes/general topics), and otherwise level you up to Shockingly Competent Research Superhero. So if you're still looking for a few extra sources, or for someone else who might be reading this and is still in the "how the heck do I find appropriate and extensive scholarly literature for my thesis??" stage, please. Go become a Research Ninja. It's much easier when you have a minion doing half the work for you, but please do appreciate and make use of your university librarian. It's much more effective than haphazard Google Scholar or JSTOR searches hoping to turn up something vaguely relevant (though to be fair, we all do that too), and it's what your tuition dollars are paying for.

Next, please do remind yourself that you are not writing the whole thesis in one go, and to break it down into manageable chunks. It usually does make sense to write the whole thing semi-chronologically (i.e. introduction, lit review, chapter 1, chapter 2/3/4 etc, conclusion), because that allows you to develop your thoughts and make logical connections, and to build on one piece to develop the next. If you're constantly scrambling between chapters and zig-zagging back and forth as things occur to you, it will be harder to focus on any one thought or thread of research, and while you might get more raw output, it will not be as good and will require more correction and revision, so you're not actually hacking yourself into increased productivity. You should also internally structure your chapters in addition to organizing your overall thesis, so it makes sense to draw up a rough outline for section A, section B, section C within the body of a single chapter. This will make you think about why the segues are going in that order and what a reasonably intelligent reader, who nonetheless may not have the specialized knowledge that you are demonstrating for them, needs to move understandably from one section to the next.

Some academics I know like to do an extensive outline, dumping all their material into separate documents for each chapter/paper and kneading and massaging and poking it into a more refined shape, and if that works for you -- great! I'm more of the type that doesn't bother with a ton of secondary outlines or non-writing activity, since that can lead you away from actually writing, but if you need to see the fruit of your research all together in one place before you can start thinking about how it goes together, that is also absolutely the way that some people do it. Either way, to be a successful academic writer, you have to train yourself to approach academic writing in a very different way from fun writing. You do fun writing when you have free time and feel inspired and can glop a lot of words down at once, or at least some words. You do it electively and for distraction and when you want to, not to a set timeline or schedule, and alas, you can't do this for academic writing. You will have to sit your ass down and write even when you do not feel like writing, do not feel Magically Inspired, don't even want to look at the fucking thing, etc. I have had enough practice that I can turn on Academic Writing Brain, sit down, bang something out, sit down the next day and turn on Academic Editing Brain, go over it again, and send it off, but I have been in academia for uh, quite a while. The good news is that you can also automate yourself to be the same way, but the bad news is that it will take practice and genuine time invested in it.

As such, this means developing a writing schedule and sticking to it, and figuring out whether you work best going for several hours without an interruption, or if you set a timer, write for a certain time, then allow yourself to look at the internet/answer texts/fuck around on Tumblr, and then make yourself put down the distraction and go back to work for another set period of time. (I am admittedly horrible at putting my phone away when I should be doing something else, but learn ye from your wizened elders, etc.) You will have to figure out in which physical space you work best, which may not be a public coffee shop where you can likewise get distracted with doing other things/chatting to friends/screwing around on the internet/doomscrolling/peeking at AO3, and to try to be there as often as possible. It might be your carrel in the library, it might be your desk at home, it might be somewhere else on campus, but if you can place yourself in a setting that tells your brain it's time to work and not look at WhatsApp for the 1000th time in a row, that is also beneficial.

Finally, remember that you do not have to produce an absolutely world-beating, stunningly original, totally flawless and perfect piece, even in its final form. Lots of us write very shitty things when we're starting out (and some of us, uh, still write very shitty things as established academics), and you do not have to totally redefine your entire field of study or propose a groundbreaking theory that nobody has heard of or anything like that. A lot of academic work is small-scale and nuanced, filling in spaces on the margins of other things or responding or offering a new perspective on existing work, and it's best to think of it as a conversation between yourself and other scholars. They have said something and now you're saying something back. You don't need to be so brilliant that everyone goes ZOMGZ I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF THAT BEFORE; by its nature that happens very rarely and is usually way out on a limb (extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, etc); you just need to continue the dialogue with a reasonably well-constructed and internally plausible piece. So if you think of it that way, and understand that a shitty first draft will usually develop into something that is good and valuable but not SHOCKING NEW REVELATION clickbait hype, you will take some of the pressure off yourself and be more able to shut up that perfectionist voice in your head. However, all of us have some degree of imposter syndrome and it never entirely goes away, so you'll have to manage that too. Etc etc as before, it doesn't vanish altogether, but it gets easier.

And last but not least, though I'm sure I don't have to say this: for the love of fuckin' god, do not use ChatGPT. Even the genuinely shittiest paper in the world that you still worked on researching, organizing, and writing with your own brain is better than that. Trust me.

[mannequinreligi0n]

Hello obscura, would you be open to writing something about the Sparda brothers quietly in love with the reader (or the reader not so interested/doesn’t feel the same way)? I’d love to read more about them…aaaarghhh 😭

OFC ! i love psychoanalyzing these two to pieces, so thank you for this <3

There are a multitude of similarities in how the twins would pine over someone. The most glaring to me is that both Dante and Vergil would only fall for someone they have a personal connection to (aka demiromantic). Both have been through insurmountable trauma, and letting someone even remotely close to them would be a huge trigger due to their multitude of losses. It would take a lot of hard work from the person of interest to even form and maintain a friendship with them, let alone a relationship.

If it came down to them developing feelings for someone and the person didn’t reciprocate, I don’t think they would take it well. Both twins are extremely self-destructive and don’t know how to regulate/control their feelings (mostly because of trauma, though perhaps we can also blame the impulsivity and intensity of their devil genes).

Specifics for each twin below. ⬇️

Dante would very much brush off the rejection - playing it cool and coughing out a self-deprecating joke to soften the blow. He would maintain the friendship with the individual and act like he never said anything, but it would eat him alive, day in and day out. Every lingering glance, every laugh from the person would chip away another part of him. Dante is also very much an avoidant attachment; he constantly keeps everyone at arms length to “protect” them and himself. The rejection would only solidify in his mind that he can’t let himself get close to anyone, that putting himself out into the world would only create more problems for him - and he has enough problems. He would still hang around the person and chop it up, but behind closed doors, I think his reliance on alcohol would see an uptick. Drinking himself dumb in order to sleep, only sober when he’s out on a job (if even that). Dante has a terrible habit of deflecting. Deny, deny, deny. He’s incredibly intelligent and can read a room like no other - he knows exactly how to act to make people believe whatever about him. The way the person of interest would figure out how badly he’s taking the rejection would be if they happened to stop by his place late enough, catching him knee deep in whiskey bottles and neglected of all his needs.

Vergil, on the other hand, would rather eat glass than confess his feelings to someone. And it would take months, if not longer, for him to truly feel safe enough to conceptualize loving someone outside of his family. His feelings would not be revealed willingly - it would probably be accidentally blurted, or exposed when/if the person of interest confronts him about it. In contrast to his brother, Vergil is an anxious attachment, through and through. He is constantly in a state of fear, worried the person will turn their back on him or forget him entirely. As a result, he unknowingly will cling to them like his life depends on it - checking in on them constantly, frequently asking their opinion of him and whatever he’s doing. It could be overbearing and anxiety-inducing, which could lead to the mentioned confrontation. Regarding rejection, Vergil would shut down entirely. Think of a small child being yelled at by a parent: they’ll run and hide, crying in a dark corner of their room until someone comes to find them (if they come at all). He would shut that person out entirely, too embarrassed and ashamed to even show his face to them again. I see him locking himself away in his room for days, only having enough energy to cry and write. If not that, he’d just disappear entirely, practically falling off the face of the earth until he’s pushed down the ugly feelings enough to return. He would behave coldly to the person there after, even if it internally killed him.

[max1461]

So here's the thing, right. My position on the US/China is kind of like my position on Israel/Palestine, or, for an opposite-valence example, my opinion on liberal market economies vs. central planning. There is an obvious right answer that I think anyone looking at the facts without factional allegiance would come to, not "this is a difficult problem but here's my opinion" (which is how I feel about a lot of political issues), but "there is an unambiguously correct broad-strokes answer, although of course there's plenty of room for disagreement on specifics".

To run through these:

1. The US and China are both Great Powers working principally in their own national interests, neither should be understood even remotely as "the good guys". Both have acted and continue to act belligerently on the international stage, but the US's track record in this domain is much, much worse. Both engage in mass surveillance and some degree of domestic human rights abuses, but China's track record in this domain is much, much worse. The rise of China means the rise of hundreds of millions of people out of deep poverty, and this is unambiguously something to be celebrated, even if the Chinese government is plenty worthy of criticism. Everyone should be desirous of peace and cooperation between these two countries as greatly as possible.

2. Israel/Palestine, well, I've already made a recent post about that I don't want to repeat myself here. I'll just find it and quote it:

Israel is an apartheid state, brought the Gaza conflict on themselves, and while this doesn't remotely excuse Hamas' targeting of civilians on Oct. 7th or make their Islamist stance sympathetic, it does leave the ball basically wholly in Israel's court to end this conflict and develop some kind of solution (one-state, two-state, etc.) in which the status quo of apartheid no longer obtains.

I would also add that Israel is, if not committing a genocide, certainly attempting to commit one in Gaza, that Israel was founded on a genocidal war in the form of the Nakba, and that flirtation with the idea of finishing the job has always been a major part of Israeli political discourse. There is just no way to be all three of (1) a supporter of Israel, (2) actually informed about this issue, and (3) a decent human being. Being a supporter of Israel in 2025 is, yes, quite comparable to being a supporter of Nazi Germany in the 1930s.

3. Liberal market economies are flawed in many ways, but central planning is flawed in very many more. Every humanistic critique of capitalism, critiques of private-ownership-as-power-structure, apply equally or more strongly to centrally planned economies as they have been instantiated in Marxist-Leninist states. It's possible some of these critiques would apply less to a centrally planned economy in a genuinely democratic state, but at least so far a Marxist-Leninist state has never implemented meaningful democracy as more than a brief experiment, and liberal states have implemented only poor simulacra of meaningful democracy. This is getting a bit tangential to the economic issue... In addition, many of the purely economic critiques levied by liberals at central planning—that centrally planned economies produce less wealth and allocate it less it well—are indeed valid. This doesn't absolve market economies of their flaws, it's extremely worthwhile to work towards some better alternative, but central planning is not it.

Anyway, while I would place myself firmly on the pro-Palestinian side of the Israel-Palestine conflict, on both (1) and (3) I consider myself something of a centrist. As much as I don't think central planning is the answer, I am certainly no partisan of markets. As for what I am a partisan of, well, I've made lots of posts about that.

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (4/25/25) - Sexy Moments (that aren't explicit)

A glance. A touch. A breath. Sometimes the sexiest moments appear perfectly innocent--on the surface. These fics might just convince you that the sexiest moments aren't always explicit.

(please, only 18+ below)

Recently I remembered something that may explain why I don't find Explicit fics as sexy as many people seem to.

One of my first jobs out of college was for a doctor running clinical trials of experimental drug treatments for people living with AIDs (yes, I'm old; be thankful if you're young enough to only know about the AIDS/HIV crisis by reading about it).

She assigned me the task of editing a safer sex manual. Are you surprised to know I would never curse anyone with the hell of sitting across a desk from your boss discussing the importance of proper nail care before engaging in anal fisting?

So, yeah. that could be one reason I prefer subtlety when describing intimate moments in fics. Luckily, there are some gifted writers who create very sensual scenes that aren't explicit.

(Note that some of these fics are rated E; but the moments I'm highlighting are not.)

Let's start with @hermiola's Growing on Me (M), containing the scene that inspired this category. Crowley is a fading rockstar struggling to complete an album. Aziraphale is the writer he's paired with to finish the lyrics at a remote retreat on the Isle of Skye.

The bicker/flirting is delicious. The seduction competition is teasing. But the sex appeal ramps up to 11 with Crowley singing the Clash's Should I Stay Or Should I Go at the local pub in chapter 7. And Aziraphale isn't the only one in the audience affected.

Prolific fic writer AppleSeeds wrote a sexy manicure in Eden Nails (T). Aziraphale gets his nails done by Crowley at the new shop in the neighborhood. This fic is nearly all manicure. It's beautifully written and very sensual.

Next up is Feast (E) by @ashfae and @mostlyjustgoose. Aziraphale is lonely while Crowley sleeps through the Covid lockdown. So he plans a magnificent dinner for the pair to catch up--a truly seductive meal.

"Not just dinner, his pounding pulse sings. This will be a temptation worthy of a Serpent, with meaning in every bite. An invitation in flavours, a message written directly onto a forked tongue. His whole life he’s been a half-baked hedonist—enjoying only the pleasures he knows he can get away with—but he has centuries’ worth of meals and secret thoughts to draw on for inspiration, and now there’s a wild absence of fear in him."

It's filled with temptation and double entendres. And yes, it does end by earning the Explicit rating. But it's a sexy slow burn to get there.

@addledmongoose's My Heart Was Always Yours (M) is a creative tale in which Aziraphale and Crowley do not know each other. Hell assigns Crowley to recover Raphael's trumpet needed to start the Second Coming. And Heaven wants Aziraphale to do the same.

To provide cover, Aziraphale asks a "human" (Crowley) to pose as his spouse at the sale. Of course, Crowley thinks Aziraphale is human too.

In chapter 20, the pair start to confront the feelings that have developed between them without either of them realizing the other isn't human (see, I told you it was fun). It leads to a very sexy scene that ends with this:

"I flicked a forked tongue against the skin, letting the scent of his aftershave and cologne fill my lungs. He was panting, murmuring my name under his breath, and I very nearly forgot where I was until the lift dinged.

I immediately straightened and turned to face the exit. Aziraphale lurched upright with a startled choke. The doors opened, and I smiled politely at the elderly man waiting to enter. His gaze danced between the two of us, and he snorted a knowing laugh.

I stepped out and looked back. “Coming, angel?” I asked, just as sweetly as he’d spoken to me moments ago. If my voice was a little raspy and my face flushed, it was nothing compared to how debauched Aziraphale looked.

"Looks like he was pretty close," the elderly man said under his breath."

A sexy scene that makes me laugh? Yes, please.

Oh, Billy Brown (E) by mostlyineffable/Quintissentialnutcase won't be a good pick for everyone--mind the tags. But this fic based on the song by MIKA is sensitively written and a good read.

It makes this list for the end of chapter 4 which includes a conversation between Aziraphale and Crowley at the pub. It incorporates the vulnerability of the pair with the powerful attraction, making a scene that is believable and sexy.

Thanks to @stupidphototricks for recommending this one to me. I probably would have passed it by due to the tags without you highlighting it.

This is getting long so I think I'll end with one of my favorite fics, Among the Stacks (NR) by @rhosmeinir. Yep, I've recommended it before. And I'll recommend it again. You can't stop me! Bwahahahaha!

But seriously, it's just that good. And it makes the list for Azrariah and Crowley's kisses in front of the fireplace in chapter 14. The scene is so tender. And yes, sexy.

Did you like this theme? Do you enjoy a good sexy (but not explicit) moment in a fic? If so, let me know by reblogging and commenting and I'll revisit this theme in a future post.

I'll be back next Friday with more great Good Omens fan fics on a new theme. In the meantime, check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations. And if my faves appear to be your faves, check out my bookmarks on AO3--all the fics I rate in my top 10% of everything I've read.

Don't forget--always thank fic writers with kudos and comments. They give us such wonderful gifts and it's appropriate to show our appreciation for all their hard work.

[extremely-judgemental]

Can we talk about Tamlin again? His story is infinitely sad.

During his younger years, he hides his true nature for the fear of his father and brothers. He has no interest in being a High Lord and is completely satisfied working with his brothers-in-arms and protecting his court. Ultimately his powers come through and he's hated by his brothers. He obeys every command from his father so that he isn't assumed to be a rebel and ends up betraying his mentor. Since then he lives in fear of Rhysand and resists him little whenever insulted because of his guilt.

With his father's murder he becomes the one thing he didn't want to be. He has to leave the life he loved to become someone his people need. Despite the lack of proper training with the court matters, he accepts the one job he always hated.

He offers home to Lucien making an enemy out of Autumn, his neighbouring court which no one would do for a complete stranger who isn't much of a benefit to his court in any way. Lucien becomes his only friend, confidant and family.

I think no one talks about this part as much as they should. When Amarantha establishes her rule, he's the only High Lord allowed to walk out freely. She gives him fifty years to break the curse. Not only is his court condemned all the same, he can't blame failing to save Prythian on his imprisonment like the other HLs could. Knowing Tamlin is warrior at heart, it's heartbreaking that he has to willingly send his 'brothers' to their death. What isn't addressed (enough or at all) is the resentment others UtM or in Prythian develop towards him for not undoing the curse already or trying enough when he stopped sending his sentries out to die. Every time Amarantha does anything remotely cruel, Tamlin would be blamed too for turning his back on entire fae population. Somehow this is glossed over as if fifty years of captivity wouldn't affect the way others see Tamlin.

He finally finds someone who loves him and could potentially break the curse. He ensures her family is taken care of when he didn't have to, long before they fall in love with each other. But he sends her away for her safety damning himself to more blame and hatred. He accepts his fate as Amarantha's toy when the woman he loves returns only to be treated like a circus animal and tortured and abused. He watches as the entirety of fae population bets against her life, watch Feyre almost get killed twice and truly killed once.

Once they are free, he has to build his court back up and also protect Feyre and his people. Even after all those years, he doesn't trust himself qualified to be a HL and takes advice from anyone including Ianthe who manipulates and betrays him, who he believed to be his friend.

We know how it goes from here. Feyre leaves with the one who abused her UtM. Rhysand gloats whenever he can. Tamlin makes a deal with someone crueler than Amarantha. He believes Feyre finally is safe from Rhysand only to realise she's played him. He loses Lucien. He loses the trust of the very people he cared about so much. He cares about the realm enough to spy for the other courts though no one believes him or even likes him. He helps Feyre and her sister. He helps bring the one man he hates so much back to life for her sake. Even after everything his court still suffers from what Feyre and the war did. For a soldier to watch his land wither away, it must be one of the worst nightmares.

There's one scene that always gets me. The one in ACOMAF where Tamlin is with his sentries, talking and laughing with his people during some gathering. That was supposed to be his life, he almost had it if he had the chance to heal. But all of it was stripped away because he loved Feyre and tried over and over again to protect her, blindly sacrificing everything for her. Then I remember Tamlin in his manor, empty and in ruins, with no one around.

To come to think of it, he has received hate almost all his life. Sometimes, rightfully so. But mostly for none of his fault. Maybe he deserves a break after all.

[pseudowho]

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain

Hiromi Higuruma is thrown out by his wife, the reader, rejected and broken after developing his Cursed power. Can she bring him home when he becomes embroiled in the Culling Game?

Warnings: Very angsty smut, dubcon at points

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"I declare my intent to participate in the Culling Game."

Your words ring through the chamber, your eyes meeting with Yuuji and Megumi, and you swallow your terror with quiet determination. You would enter Tokyo Colony One together.

Their aim? To hunt Hiromi Higuruma, to strike a bargain, or to eradicate him.

Your aim? To find your husband...to warn him, or bring him home.

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Sorcerers with non-Sorcerer spouses were known to be notoriously secretive about their private lives. While most of these non-Sorcerer spouses knew about the unique profession of their husband or wife, it was an academic knowledge at best; without the possession of Cursed sight, or a Cursed technique, their ability to comprehend the job was as remote to them as Heaven from Earth.

This was how it always had been, between you and Hiromi, passing, often, like ships in the night, as you tried to balance your work and home lives. Your love was so often enacted in the dark warmth of the night, rolling slowly towards his cool body as his weight crept into bed, hands and mouths seeking each other for comfort; gentle touches between legs, desperate kisses on necks. The love between Hiromi and you ran deep like still waters; decisive, steadfast, white-hot adoration.

Until Hiromi began to crack under the weight of supporting justice in an unwinnable system. Until Kenjaku had crept through the cracks, rooting Hiromi with such fierce Cursed energy as you had ever beheld. Until Hiromi became gripped by violent righteousness, becoming a hungry monster, fervent and jaded.

You fought to save Hiromi from himself, trying to claw him back from his own transgressions, down a path so contrary to what he really believed in. His resentment of you grew; how had you held so much power for so long, and not used it to help him win fights? And why were you trying to keep him from his own power, now?

In bitter tears, and rejected protection, Hiromi's ship drifted from yours. You remained steadfast in deep waters as always, a lighthouse. Until, one night, in pure hot contention, you threw Hiromi away from you, out of your home, demanding that he never return; he left, black eyes flat and unreadable, and you stayed, feeling the world crumble beneath your feet, your love unwavering, unfulfilled.

In the rising of the sun, you had returned from Shibuya, broken and grieving, part of your soul left behind with the bodies of your friends, colleagues and students. You got home, numb. You showered, numb. You looked into the fridge, starving, with no appetite. You went to bed, and waited for the gentle weight of Hiromi...which never came. You went through the motions with the other Sorcerers, who had no knowledge of your husband or his name. You watched as Kenjaku enacted a sickening new 'game', to usher in a new Golden Era of Jujutsu Sorcery.

When you learned of Hiromi's involvement in The Culling Game, you remained outwardly unaffected to your colleagues and students. Swiftly excusing yourself at the first opportunity, you staggered outside, scattered and vomiting in the bushes as you shook and wept, initially resigned to the cruel fate your husband now had to face. Initially.

As talk of entering the Culling Game to recruit top-scoring players to the cause began, you began to formulate your own plan. Your loyalty was, first and foremost, to your husband. You would save Hiromi, or die trying. You knew you would have to convince him to surrender, run with him, or fight him yourself. You had grimly considered each option as likely. You had grimly considered that your husband had left you, incensed by your rejection, and may now very well exceed you in terms of strength.

You were prepared to find yourself at Hiromi Higuruma's mercy.

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He had found you so much faster than you thought he would.

Hiromi's power was overwhelming, and in Tokyo's first colony, you followed the trail of his murder and destruction, hunting him down in a way that only someone who knew him could do. Your stomach twisted at the thought of betraying Megumi and Yuuji, lying with a smile as you sent them off to the fight.

You were fresh from Shibuya, nerves raw and frayed, crackling with potential like split live cables. You found that the unavoidable murder of a few weak links who targeted you, was surprisingly easy. You were blinkered by your aim, heart pounding with excitement and dread in equal measures, desperate to hold Hiromi again.

As you stood alone in a darkened theatre, the lush red seats hauntingly empty as you tried to get your bearings, your stomach twisted to hear a familiar voice above you.

"Domain expansion-- deadly sentencing."

You felt a hook behind your navel, a swooping, dragging pull as you lost your Cursed energy and dropped into an empty courtroom all at once.

Almost empty.

"I didn't think our marriage was so dreadful that you'd hunt me down to murder me, darling." Your knees wobbled as you took to the stand, a familiar warm hand gripping your elbow to stabilise you, dropping you unceremoniously against the wooden podium. You looked up to those familiar unruly spikes of black hair walking away from you to his side of the court.

"Hiromi," you gasped, his touch still searing on your skin, "you need to listen to me--" You blinked, monologue interrupted as Hiromi stood before you, his face straining to remain impassive, flanked by a bizarre, black-winged, masked creature. Hiromi's thick eyebrows connected in a deep scowl, his lips drawn up in disgust as he surveyed you.

"You need to know your place," he snarled, "you're not in charge here." Hiromi flipped a brown paper envelope in his hands, tapping it against his palm. "You have some charges to answer to...my love." You gulped, Hiromi's voice softening for a moment, sounding almost sorry.

You trembled, fully aware that you were powerless in his domain, and tears stung in your nose. You moved to step down and walk towards Hiromi, but his scowl only deepened, chin dipped, as Hiromi radiated fury and a wicked Cursed energy. You released a dry sob and leaned forwards on the podium on your elbows, your head in your hands, gut-churningly overwhelmed by him; wanting him home, wanting him safe, wanting him back to the Hiromi you knew.

You couldn't deny what an intimidating figure he posed now; slim, suited, hook-nosed and wrathful, you felt a familiar want for him stir in your gut, certain that you could escape together even if you couldn't convince him to join the others. You even preferred the former, captivated by the power coiling off him.

You swallowed, speaking, shaking; "What are the charges against me?"

Something hot and vengeful burned in Hiromi's eyes; "Spousal abandonment." Another sob wracked from your chest, appalled by the accusation, deeply wounded.

"I never walked away from you, Hiromi," you cried, voice breaking as you impeached him, "I--"

"Our evidence," Hiromi continued, eyes scorching into you as you stared each other down in bitter contention, "items one to ten, prepared for the defendant's examination." Hiromi spun the brown envelope to you, and it scattered items to your podium as it burst its contents on impact.

You picked up the items with trembling hands, agonised by them all, your heart sinking into your stomach as you beheld the varied contents of your marriage to Hiromi; your marriage certificate. A photograph, of your first kiss as man and wife, youthful joy on both of your faces. Your wedding vows, two neatly written pieces of paper, feeling Hiromi's intense, determined commitment to you rise up from the paper as you had when he had first spoken his vows to you. A short love letter from him, to you. A short love letter from you, to him. A stack of post-it notes you had left on the fridge, and in each others' lunch boxes. A bloodied dishcloth, from where Hiromi had accidentally cut his hand on a kitchen knife during your first fight about his new powers. A frantically handwritten apology note from Hiromi, to you. And a single, solitary hotel-room receipt, from the night you had thrown him from your home.

You knelt behind the podium, crying your heart out as you gathered these treasures, putting them back in the envelope and clutching them to your chest. Hiromi's stomach roiled with the fury and agony of your rejection, torn between wanting you to feel his pain, and wanting to comfort you in yours. He felt nauseous, unable to stop this courtroom charade now he had started it. He gulped back his feelings for you, eyes flinty and dark once more.

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Hiromi, I--"

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Stop it, I would never--"

A voice rising, deep, commanding, "How does the defendant plead?"

"I will always want you."

Silence fell again in the courtroom, only punctuated by the quiet, heaving sobs coming from behind your podium. Hiromi stared at the floor, flat and disconnected, "The defendant pleads...not guilty."

You heard a soft sigh from Hiromi as he continued, "Our second piece of evidence--"

You hung on bated breath, listening, waiting...until nothing came. Still clutching the envelope to your chest, tear-stained and shaking, you stood. Hiromi stood directly in front of your podium now, looking up to you from the floor. He said nothing, and his eyes glistened with reproach, his arms slightly raised to his sides, palms facing you as if in crucifixion.

"Your...your second piece of evidence?" you asked, weary, drained.

"Me. Being here. Right now." You blinked, not understanding for a moment.

"I...Hiromi, I don't--"

"I'm here," he pressed, heated and furious as he climbed your steps towards you, "and why would I be here, in this godforsaken pit, if you hadn't forsaken me first?" An accusatory finger stabbed the air between you, Hiromi hissing in rage, tears brimming in his lovely dark eyes. You reached up to take his hand, silently pleading, and he let you for a moment, torn, before ripping his hand away from you, spinning on his heels to walk back down the steps.

You flung your arms round his neck from behind, "Hiromi, don't--" His strong hands grasped yours, peeling them from his body and fixing them behind your back, pinning your body against the podium with his own. You couldn't move as you gasped, weeping, and Hiromi gripped you in place, white-knuckled and trembling.

"Why don't you want me anymore?" He raged at you, his mouth hot against your ear, "After everything we've been through, and I needed you to help me, and instead I end up thrown out like a dog--"

"-- I've tried to help you, to keep you away from the Jujutsu world, this miserable life--"

"-- I had no choice, this was forced on me, there's no way out of this now--"

"-- you've killed people, Hiromi."

Silence again, Hiromi panting against you, body hot and thrumming. He sniffed, squeezing your wrists as he pressed his face into your shoulder.

"They were...ugly. Ruthless monsters. Not people." Hiromi was silent again. You were lost in the bliss of his wiry body and sharp strength against yours. The raw emotion of the fight burned in your belly, seeking release.

"You were...my one constant. Soft, and beautiful and strong, and I-- I could always come home to you, until you-- you--"

Your face crumpled again, overwhelmed all of a sudden as your righteousness left you and you were wracked with guilt at having given up on him. You turned your head, stroking his hair with your cheek, tears dampening the black strands, dishevelled now. Soft and vulnerable for a moment, you felt Hiromi's shoulders tense against you, set in a hard line, and he bit into your shoulder with barely restrained aggression.

"But you lied," he urged, voice low and hushed against your neck as you whimpered into the pain, pressing yourself back against him, "you do want me, don't you?" Hiromi's nose and lips brushed against your neck, one hand remaining cuffed around your wrists, and the other creeping up to grip your throat and jaw. You coughed, alarmed, quivering.

"I don't know what punishment my domain will condemn you to," Hiromi whispered, trailing a long, languid lick up the side of your neck, tasting your sweat, fear, and regret, "and I don't know how this will end for me."

Hiromi's whole body was pressed against you, and you could feel the outline of his cock, solid against your back, as his hand slipped down from your throat, slipping under your shirt and bra to idly roll your nipple between his fingers as you keened at him.

"And even though whatever we had is soiled now," he croaked, his lips and nose still buried deep in your hair, his grieving face twisted with despair, "we should enjoy each other one last time, as husband and wife."

You hiccuped, breath catching on the lump in your throat, swallowing painfully, "Come back home, Hiromi. Or let me come with you, anything, as long as we--"

"-- as long as we're...together?" Hiromi scoffed lightly, terse and bitter, still tenderly squeezing your breast as he kept you pinned, his ministrations belying the anger you still felt brimming below the surface. He was grimly satisfied to feel you tremble under his hands, punishing you before your judgement had been passed.

"See, I used to think that," his hand left your breast to your noises of protest, but you shivered as it slipped down across your belly, deftly undoing your trousers, "and then, well...you know the rest. It was up to you, after all." Your face burned with shame at having your rejection thrown back at you.

You cried out as Hiromi shoved his hand roughly down the front of your trousers, cupping your sex with a possessive squeeze. He swiped your underwear to the sides, pressing two fingers harshly against your clit, groaning at your wetness as you bucked, whimpering. Your hands twisted in anguish, seeking freedom, and Hiromi denied you, pressing your upper body flat on the podium, lifting you so your toes brushed against the floor.

You sobbed your pleasure as Hiromi worked practiced strokes between your puffy lips, softly pinching your clit and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb as you bucked, overstimulating without being allowed to cum, drawn to tears with sharp pangs of pleasure and pain.

Hiromi punctuated his words with barely-restrained pinches of your clit, leaving your toes curling as you twisted and writhed under him, crying out and begging him for release; "You always wanted me," pinch, "you still want me," pinch, "and you've broken it beyond repair," pinch, "but I'm fucking sure you're completely ruined for anyone other than me,"  he growled, rubbing tight circles on you now, his hand wet with your arousal settling in his palm, and you mewled, high-pitched and desperate, pinned and shaking under his hands.

As he leaned into you, bucking his clothed erection against the swell of your arse, he shuddered in satisfaction as your thighs clenched together, your struggling fading as he brought you to orgasm, softly whimpering through a haze of pleasure and regret. Hiromi continued to rub slow circles, hushing you gently, bringing you down from your orgasm as he undid his trousers, grasping his twitching cock and pulling it free.

As you came down from your high and your vision cleared, your eyes met the impassive blank gaze of Hiromi's bizarre Cursed creature, and you hid your face in the podium, flushing with shame, feeling Hiromi yank your trousers and underwear down behind you.

"Hiromi," you shook, breathless and weak for him, "let me kiss you, please--" Hiromi chuckled again, humourless and gravelly. You jumped as felt him stroke the hot, leaking head of his cock up and down between your folds, jolting with sensitivity every time it brushed over your clit.

"I don't think so. We shouldn't stay too attached, should we?" You cried out, aching pussy filled instantly as Hiromi rammed into it, squeaking and squirming with blinding pleasure as Hiromi grunted behind you, his spare hand shaking as it dug into the plush of your hips, holding you in place against the cool wood of the podium.

The blinding pleasure was overwhelming as Hiromi pounded into you, wet slaps and his groans of ecstasy echoing through the dull silence of the courtroom. Your knees buckled, the podium taking your full weight as you felt his swollen tip slam repeatedly into your cervix, feeling sharp pangs in your belly every time it struck. Hiromi's grip on your wrists was painfully tight, your breasts crushed to your chest, nipples rubbing hard against the podium with the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and you felt his rage with every snap of his hips, praying you would be forgiven for your crimes against him after he had finished.

Feeling your core, hot, wet and pulsing around him, Hiromi slammed into you, trying to dull the odd duality of wanting to pull you desperately into his arms, and wanting deeply to hurt you as you had hurt him with your betrayal. His nose and eyes stinging with tears, and blood roaring through his ears, Hiromi spat out his rage and heartbreak as he came with a shout, holding himself into you deeply, feeling himself empty, heart throbbing and numbed by his release.

Hiromi shook, still seething, blinking back tears of rage as he pulled harshly out of you, stepping back, leaving you cold and empty on the podium, your overstimulated pussy fluttering around nothing. Hiromi stared at you, shaking and tear-stained and still ready to take him back, but still wanting to tame him, watching his seed trickle, white and thick, down the lips of your pussy, dripping to the floor of his domain. Loosening his tie with one quick pull, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, overheating.

"Let's make sure we do this properly, hmm? For old time's sake," chimed Hiromi as he turned you around to face him, lifting you by the waist to sit on the edge of the podium. You raised your hands to his face, clasping his cheeks as you gazed into his eyes trying to find your Hiromi still in there. You saw him, lost behind a veil of someone darker, much more broken than he had been before you had thrown him out of your home, and your lips puckered, drawing together as you tried to hold back tears again.

Hiromi sighed as you held his cheeks, feeling the day-old stubble growing there. You leaned in to kiss him, and he ducked to avoid you, latching sharply onto one freed nipple as his hand squeezed the other breast, tearing your shirt open at the buttons. You gasped, sinking your hands into his hair and gripping your thighs around him to hold him close.

Hiromi reached up, firmly untangling your hands from his hair, his jaw clenched; "Hands to yourself. Or we'll have to tie them out of the way." You cringed, reluctantly putting your hands to your sides as Hiromi gradually nosed his way down your body, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin of your belly, not once kissing you.

You fell into the little touch Hiromi was giving you so easily, a part of you still cold and empty by his enforced penalty of withholding affection and intimacy. The longing made you all the more eager, grasping at whatever he would give you. You shivered as his mouth reached your thighs, nipping and sucking gently on the soft skin grazing the edge of your pussy. Lost in the delight of his mouth on you, a hand slipped down again to sink into Hiromi's hair.

He stopped immediately and you gasped, apologising in a babbling rush. Hiromi rose,  hooded eyes looking at you in disgust, lips curled and nose wrinkled.

"Please-- I'm sorry, Hiromi...please--" Hiromi hesitated briefly, before raising his hands to slowly grip yours together again, not breaking eye contact.

"Final warning," he snipped, brittle and threatening. You gulped, nodding quickly. Hiromi's mouth returned to your thighs. When his nose and tongue finally slipped between your folds, experienced in his role as the only man who pleasured you, he tasted you with the fervour of a man determined to commit you to memory.

Hiromi heard you crying out above him, your sweet sounds soaked up and stored away in his mind, and he ground his nose against your clit, dipping a tongue into you to taste how the two of you were together, groaning as he felt himself begin to harden again.

Hypersensitive from the rough treatment of Hiromi's hands, you begged and pleaded to Hiromi, fingers clawing at the wooden podium, your whole pussy aching with all it had received and all that was yet to come.

Something in your belly snapped as you came, hard, calling Hiromi's name as he continued to nuzzle into you, lost, desperate to soak up your affections one last time. Barely stopping to let you come down from your high, Hiromi rose up, lifting you to kick your trousers and underwear away, and wrap your legs around his waist.

Hiromi threw his suit jacket to the floor of the stand, laying you down on it with such warmth that you could have wept again, and Hiromi laid himself flat to you, raising your thighs to cradle his hips, encouraging you to squeeze him as he slipped his cock easily into you again, slippery from the cum he had already left behind. You mewled, full and ecstatic.

Nose to nose, Hiromi plaited his fingers with yours and gripped them, your forearm flush with his as he leaned over your head. Moving within you, slow and thorough, the head of his cock examining every inch of you, Hiromi sunk his face into your neck, kissing you, promising you.

"I never stopped loving you," he urged, panting softly as you raised your hips in tandem with his thrusts, "I never-- I never did-- never will..." You gasped, pressing your lips to his, as sweet and optimistic as your first kiss...but haunted now, by something dark and tainted.

You and Hiromi moved together, gentle and quiet, as if alone in your bedroom in the dead of night again, and you felt the familiar deep warmth spread through your belly and thighs as you approached your peak again. Hiromi knew, knowing your body by flesh-memory now, and he tilted your hips against him, hitting deeper now, barely pulling out.

"Together," he insisted, pink-cheeked and euphoric. He felt you clench around him, drinking down your moans as he kissed you, ecstasy bursting through him as he came again, knees to the floor, weakened, his anguish and turmoil released in solemn finality.

He stayed for just a few seconds. With a soft sigh, he pulled out of you with a groan, standing and tucking himself back into his trousers, adjusting his suit, pulling his tie back on with practiced hands. You dressed, quiet and full of dread, desperate for an answer- you knew Hiromi had already made up his mind.

"We're done." His voice, quiet and considered, the Hiromi you knew, pierced you like a knife. You shook, picking up the envelope with the remnants of your life together.

"Come with m--"

"I won't come with you. You made your decision. I...have had mine made for me. All that's left for us to do, is to stand by them." Hiromi turned his back on you, "The prosecution rests. All charges have been dropped."

You reeled at Hiromi's final rejection, cold and weeping. His domain collapsed around you, and you found yourself sat in the dusty chill of the old theatre. Hiromi stepped away from you, ignoring you as you called out to him.

As he reached the door, he stopped, gripping the doorframe with a shaking hand; "I'd like to say I'll come home, if I win this. But whatever we had...it's gone. I can't-- I can't trust you anymore." Hiromi left into the night, the door swinging shut behind him.

By the time you had reached the door, sprinting out into the night, Hiromi Higuruma was gone, and you were alone once more, his conviction of you passed and enacted with a final kiss goodbye

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

This so nearly had a different ending, but I did what I felt was true to his character.

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Episode 4: Cent'anni Breakdown

She goes through all these different levels of all these different personas: excellent daughter, overachiever, and this horrific feral state in Arkham. And it's not until the yellow dress that she finds the one that fits.

Kind of like sharks can't stop moving or they sink. It's that relentless pursuit of justice.

This changes her forever. She never comes back. Something so much bigger than her takes over in order to survive - Cristin Milioti

This was pointed out to me by my friend and, show of hands everyone, who else thinks it's unbelievably fucking sick that it is Sofia who gets to show up at the Falcone dinner table, wearing a thematically appropriate embodiment of her childhood trauma, and do a "None of you are safe" speech?

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

It probably felt odd to spend time with Sofia when we’re in a show called The Penguin. But I think it’s just as important so you can understand Oz psychologically. Even though I don’t view Oz as a hero or a villain, he is a greater villain in the show than anyone else. And for you to feel that way, I think you have to understand his primary antagonist more. And that’s Sofia.” - Lauren LeFranc

I gotta say I'm generally not enthusiastic about Penguin being depicted as overtly disgusting, like drooling and eating raw fish and all that Burton stuff (actually I do think the black bile is cool, but only so far as as that version goes), but for that opening scene, that was a spectacularly well-placed bit of grossness. Like this sheer craven animalistic ugliness of DeVito's Penguin descending for a second to show us how Sofia sees Oz, and even how right she is to do so at the moment because holy shit hahahahahaha

From what we can see of Sofia's pre-Arkham life, she was basically the Meadow Soprano of the family: The smart, overachieving golden child, whose social standing and eligitibility for leadership wouldn't even be up for debate if she was born a man like her loser brother (love AJ, relate uncomfortably to AJ, he's not at all morally comparable to Alberto, but he is very much a loser). Socially conscious and sticking up for victims but only if you don't poke too closely at her victim-generating family business, aware of some things but willfully blind to her own hypocrisy and insistent that daddy is still in average a good man who isn't as bad as people around her may say he is. I'd even say that the Sofia we see here is a more moral person than Meadow, although obviously being the daughter of Carmine Falcone is a much scarier, more isolating and horrific prospect than growing up the daughter of Tony Soprano (the ways in which the two Sopranos kids diverged and majorly prefigured American socio-political developments that kicked off after the show is a topic for another post).

(Also, I don't really want to bring up Sopranos comparisons because the shows are similar, they're really not, but I finished The Sopranos yesterday so they're gonna come up still)

I think Mark Strong does a really good job here filling in for John Turturro's role, even if he's not quite as good in it as Turturro. I think he plays the character differently in a way that works really well for this being a past version of Carmine, filtered through Sofia's vision. He is imposing and quiet and mighty, a lone titan of unquestionable power over the entire world, not even remotely someone to be defied or displeased. Turturro's Falcone was charismatic and affable and oozing with unspeakable yet casual cruelty, and I would have liked that here, but I like the idea that we're seeing a Carmine from before he was invincible, when he still needed Sofia to help him get Congressman Hill on the phone and still worried about the future of the family at Alberto's hands, a Carmine from when the Maronis were still around and he wasn't the sole ruling power in Gotham, who could still possibly lose even without vigilante intervention.

He is larger, more imposing, a stern and stoic father who had little use for pleasantries, and with no mirth to be had at the expense of the little people who think they can do anything against him that matters, even if he is getting there. I think the difference here adds a nice little arc to Carmine: there was a time where he needed to keep up appearences, there was a time where he raised his voice above a whisper to get things done, and there was a time where he wasn't the real mayor of Gotham. There was a time where he was a "proper" Don, when he acted like his comics counterpart, and none of that really became necessary over the following decade, when he grew more and more invincible and isolated and comfortable in this nightmare he made the city into.

They also confirm here that apparently the Iceberg Lounge/44 Below existed way back when Oz was just Sofia's driver, and it was already Carmine's prostitute slaughterhouse even then and Alberto knew about it. Possibly explains why Oz was handed the club in the first place, because the Falcones already called him Sofia's penguin and putting The Penguin in charge of the Iceberg Lounge would fit their idea of a laugh (and given how much Oz hates being called Penguin, he would hardly come up with the name himself)

Lmao, those dog comparisons I keep making really don't stop justifying themselves.

Credit again to Mike Marino and the prosthetics team for this younger Oz make-up, he strikes a very nice middleground between current Oz and the one we see as a kid.

Really like what we see of Sofia and Oz's dynamic here, again reinforcing that for all intents and purposes he was the sidekick in her HBO protagonist life. We see how Sofia likes his company and how she even kinda defends him from the family, but she really cannot bring herself to respect him very much and disdains him from the same very upper-class perspective the rest of the family does, she's just nicer about it. And in turn we see parts of where Oz's resentment to her comes from, and also the extent to which Oz was always lying in wait for an opportunity to get ahead regardless of her, his justified grievances as well as him being a conniving fuck. The really thin line this treads though, is that it establishes that neither of them were lying about how they meant something to each other, even if it doesn't help.

Sofia did have her life ruined partially because of Oz, she did endure horrific things while he got a promotion because he ratted her out to Carmine, and he very much did in part because he wanted to get ahead and saw an opportunity to do so. But also, Oz genuinely had no idea that this is what Carmine would do, and I think in large part this was also about keeping himself safe. It's not even that unbelievable that he was genuinely looking out for her, because holy shit you do not talk to the press about Carmine Falcone, daughter or not, and he tried warning her in the car before she rebuffed him and insulted him pretty deep for good measure. If Sofia talked to the press and would not stop talking (since he didn't know in the car that she rebuffed Gleeson) and shit started happening because of her snooping around, he would have absolutely gotten punished/murdered for it, it is not at all a stretch to assume that Carmine would have done something to Oz as punishment to Sofia.

Oz didn't plan any kind of misfortune, at no point did he mastermind her admission into Arkham (or even help keep her there with the letters, like the rest of the family), he just told Carmine something he shouldn't have, and neither of them expected anything too terrible was gonna come out of it. They both wildly underestimated what a complete scumbag Carmine is, but with Carmine (and the others) gone, there's nobody else to turn those grievances to.

Even if Oz could claim deniability for the Arkham thing, which he kinda can't but Sofia even tried to grant him anyway, he sure as shit can't for everything else he does in the opening minutes.

Oh hey it's Mr Mustache With The Broken Nose.

A thing that came to mind when I was watching the episode was the story of Rosemary Kennedy, JFK's sister whose father arranged for her to be institutionalized and lobotomized at age 23 as a reponse to "difficult" behavior. I'm not recounting it in more detail here because the rest of it is just too horrific, look it up yourself if you're curious. I remembered it because reading about Rosemary Kennedy ruined my fucking day and it still pumps up the breaks in my train of thought every now and then, so it came to mind watching this story about a young woman horrifically institutionalized and butchered for the sake of her wealthy family's image. Later I heard the podcast, and turns out that actually was exactly what Lauren LeFranc based Sofia's story on, which was nice. I'm glad it also fucks Lauren LeFranc up and that we both agree she should have gotten to wreak revenge on the entire family over it, thank you Penguin Show that continues to be made for me, this was nice.

Oh hey, Magpie. Just the name, yeah, but that was another nice surprise. I used to have a bit of a soft spot for Magpie, occasionally I thought there was something to get out of her and Penguin together, so a part of me likes that they put Magpie in The Penguin show even if just in name. Yes, she only exists to be annoying and die, but that's what she already tends to do anyway. And y'know, much as I may like her, she is still a John Byrne character, so she doesn't really deserve much more than that

Jesus Christ this episode gets uncomfortable.

I like that this establishes that Julian Rush kinda did make an effort to help her and kinda felt bad about it, but not nearly enough, and that he is very much a complicit contemptible creep who has it coming as much as any of the people who put Sofia in there.

Cannot state enough how much I appreciate that they didn't put any actual named Batman villains in the Arkham Asylum episode, guarantee a lot of creators would not resist the temptation. I mean okay I guess there is a Ventris already in Batman but, come on, you know who I mean. This did not need any references to like, Jeremiah Arkham or Jonathan Crane or Hugo Strange or any of that, and that's not a diss on any of those guys, it's just that unlike pretty much every other Batman story, this episode does not undercut it's point about the horrific institutional horrors dehumanizing and destroying Sofia by pinning it on a chief boogeyman supervillain that Batman is going to fight later. Dr. Ventris is not responsible for the systemic rot that got her there nor is he the sole orchestrator/perpetrator of the abuse it's inmates suffer, he simply answers to those, and thus perpetuates them, by doing his job in a mental institution.

I am still haunted by the inmate committing suicide with a fork. It is so fucked up that Sofia was tortured and goaded by the doctors into murdering another inmate, and when that failed, they tortured her again and again and again until she snapped. The whole point was to push Sofia beyond the breaking point to justify further incarceration. The doctors just standing there letting her kill Magpie.

I want Dr.Rush to die.

I have more thoughts on Arkham, but I'd call this the most horrific take on Arkham so far, because it is the most honest take on Arkham so far. Even at it's most run-down and monstrous, it is usually never at all into question that Arkham Asylum is necessary, because if it wasn't there, all the crazies would run rampant in Gotham. Over the years, it's monstrousness has always been tied directly and specifically to it's inmates, and whenever people have pointed out the shoddy conditions and inhospitable environment of Arkham as a factor for repeat offenders, it's pretty much always as a fandom joke outside of Batman stories proper, and if there is anything wrong with the way the Asylum works, it is always the fault of particularly evil villains attached. A Lock-Up, a Jeremiah Arkham, a Hugo Strange, etc. Arkham Asylum is in general a Batman concept that's raised a lot of discussions and calls for revision over the years, and a lot of the issues with it tie into larger issues around superhero depictions of the carceral system, that @artbyblastweave went into here.

Here, in large part because this is a realistic world and a Gotham without a rampaging supervillain contingent of repeat offenders who can magically break out constantly, it is never into question that the patients are the victims of this system, and if they are being turned into potential supervillains, it is because of Arkham inflicting this on them. This is an Arkham Asylum that remains a nightmarish, horrific force in this world, but not because it's Castle Dracula where all the crazy villains hang out, not even just because the rest of Gotham is hopelessly rotten and corrupt, but because it's a mental institution and depicted accordingly. It gets to dig into the real life horrors mental institutions inflict on it's patients without having to justify those measures as benign or necessary to keep crazy crimes from happening. Frankly, this take on Arkham Asylum has been long overdue.

In every form of Batman media, just about the worst thing that can happen at any given moment is Arkham Asylum falling and it's inmates escaping into the streets, that's generally what happens when Batman needs to deal with apocalyptic stakes (which is why of course it happens all the fucking time now). Here, that scenario would be regarded with cheer, because the worst thing that can happen in this universe is being sent to Arkham Asylum. It isn't just Batman's unofficial personal prison / punching gallery, if anything it massively raises the stakes on this Batman's next adventures, because now we know this is what's waiting for him if he gets caught and unmasked.

I like that Sofia and Oz are both trying to save/protect those they see as younger versions of themselves, while inflicting on them the kinds of tragedies that ultimately created them

Oz reached out to this poor disabled kid from the streets and is showing him the ropes, while also belittling him as a nobody and distorting his worldview and dragging him into life or death cornered scrapdog situations chipping away at his morals. Sofia saves her little niece who laughs at bad table manners and doesn't quite do what her family says, gently lulling her to sleep so she can kill her mom and her entire family.

Extremely important that Sofia Falcone makes her formal arrival as a villain by showing up dressed in a sexy yet fitting extension of her trauma / cultural reference (The Yellow Wallpaper / the walls in her mother's bedroom), before putting on a mask and enacting Gotham's first Mass Casualty Gas Attack, we love to see it.

I was frankly already calling Sofia one of my favorite Bat-villains even before this episode, I'm just glad everyone seems to be on the same page with me now. I'm seeing a lot of posts on Twitter and Instagram talking about how they're rooting for Sofia instead of Oz, that she deserves to win this war, and good, fucking amazing that they're doing this, again, this show is hitting home runs I could not have foreseen.

It is incredible what a character they've made out of Sofia, and the fact that we now see Oz as her antagonist as much as we see Sofia as his, and the fact that if Penguin wins, he will win this as a villain. He will steal a victory he does not deserve and rub it in your face and he will make the children of the world cry for it as any villain worth his name should be doing, and it frankly wouldn't be much of a fight if Sofia wasn't every bit the complicated, engaging protagonist he is. Lauren LeFranc claimed that she sees Sofia is the closest the show has to a hero even if she is not, and this is the episode that sold everyone on it.

Halfway through the show and it's only gotten better and better, can't wait for what's coming next.

[lulubelle814]

Some of my favorite fics w/summary

A Startling Realization by @muddyorbsblr

Summary: Oakley returns to campus after a trip with his mates and steadily comes to realize he's developed feelings for you

Feels Like Mine by @muddyorbsblr

Summary: You wake up in a bed that isn't your own, living a life that seems to be pulled straight out of your wildest dreams

The Lakes by @lokisgoodgirl

Summary: Based out of a tiny and remote cottage, your reluctant role as the resident 'outdoors expert' is put to the test by the frustrations and temptations of your recent ex-, Loki

The Proposal by @michelleleewise

Summary: You had the perfect life. A perfect fiancée, pursuing your dream in culinary school, had a beautiful apartment……until it all came crashing down around you. You were on the tip of financial ruin when your friend suggested a way out…….you had no idea what you were in for when you filled in your information.

Follow the Crow by @gigglingtiggerv2

Summary:

Ragnarok has happened, is happening, will have happened - time gets a little murky around cataclysmic events such as this.

Asgard has been destroyed, the Gods are dead or dying, but Fenris is not done yet.

Freed from his imprisonment, Loki must save the remaining realms and bring his unruly off-spring to heel. In order to do this, he will have to find his way to the 'Everywhen' and take back control of events.

Easier said than done, for the Everywhen lies deep in the shadowy space between the realms, where even Gods fear to tread.

What he needs is a guide - but do any of the original guardians remain?

Double Cross (Eighth Circle Series - Book One) - by @gigglingtiggerv2

Summary: In Dante’s inferno, the Eighth Circle of Hell was reserved for liars, panderers, thieves and murderers.  For the criminal underworld it is an opulent London club, representing neutral territory where deals can be made, grievances aired and scores settled. 

For the owner, Thomas Cross, it is his own private kingdom, one where he makes the rules and wields absolute authority. Recently, however, that authority has come under threat.  In order to maintain his standing and the Club’s ruthless reputation, it is imperative he find the perpetrator.

In this violent place, where lies are currency and everyone has their own agenda, who can he trust? Certainly not Verity Williams, the talented thief who has her own reasons for infiltrating his organisation.  

Neither can deny the sparks that fly whenever they’re together, but if he’s not careful, will those sparks burn down everything he’s created?

My Best Friend by @vbecker10

Summary: What you thought would be a relaxing girls night quickly turns into an interrogation by Nat and Wanda about your non-existent relationship with Loki. After denying you are anything other then friends for as long as you can, you finally tell them how you really feel about him... and why you know he will never feel the same. The night goes from bad to worse when you realize Loki overheard you talking to them and you try to hide from him.

Language by @vbecker10

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Down Under by @superficialdomina

Summary: Oh no! Hydra has released a sex-pathogen in the Australian outback! Can a small band of Avengers prevent a mass outbreak of a dangerous, if nonsensical, bioweapon?

The Redbridge Hunts by @fanficshiddles

Summary: Claire moves to Demsdale to take up a new job as an assistant teacher for one Loki Laufeyson. She’s also very intrigued with all of the rumours within the borough of Redbridge. However, as she starts to fall for Loki’s charm and good looks, she also learns that all of the rumours might not just be rumours after all.

Addicting Temptations by @fanficshiddles

Summary: Alphas Tom and David run not only the city but a health insurance business with a darker side to it too. At one of their elusive parties, they take a liking to an already mated omega. But mated or not, they always get what they want. 

Dangerous Night by @fanficshiddles

Summary: Melissa catches the eye of Jonathan Pine while on holiday visiting her friend. Her friend warns her of Pine and Roper, of their gang. But Melissa finds the thought rather thrilling. Jonathan invites her back to a hotel for the night, she can’t resist the offer. The one-night stand leads to more, because who could deny the handsome Jonathan Pine. Not to mention the luxurious lifestyle he can offer his new princess…

This Wasn't Part of the Plan by @fanficshiddles

Summary: Melody is struggling to keep up with her college work. Working three jobs just to get by, she doesn’t have much time to study and do homework. Her rather nasty teacher, Mr Hiddleston is very blunt when he finds her work not up to par. In desperation, she turns to a sugar daddy website. When she goes to meet with one who reached out to her, she is shocked to find it’s none other than her teacher, Mr Hiddleston.

Covenant by @meowmeow-motherfucker

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

[sortofshea]

On the 28th day of @hprecfest this fandom gave to me...

Day 28: a fic over 100k

Title: Way Down We Go by @xiaq

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Teen | 109.7k words

Summary:

The war was over.

Or at least that’s what the papers said.

They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding.

Maybe they did.

***

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town.

It's super.

Why I recommend it:

I could wax poetic about this fic all day long. This was the first one I read after returning to this fandom that really stuck with me. It's haunted me (in the best possible way) for years now and I still regularly find myself thinking about it.

Harry is turned into a werewolf during an Auror mission gone wrong. Instead of finding the help and support that you'd think the wizarding world would be happy to shell out to him after everything he did for them, he is instead let go from his job and scorned. In a bitter fit of hopelessness, he decides to leave everything he has come to know behind and disappear from society. He books himself a one way portkey to the most obscure and out of the way place the office has to offer.

Draco is facing a prolonged sentence after the war for his involvement with the wrong side. He has had his magic blocked and his assets seized. As a result of this magical stopper, he has developed all of the nasty genetic diseases that generations of inbreeding would have normally subjected him to. Magic had kept him healthy and unhindered by these illnesses until this point, but without it, they have all come on at once and it is a death sentence, albeit a slow one. As opposed to letting his mother suffer by watching him slowly waste away and die, he too took a one way portkey to the same small, remote town that Harry later finds himself in.

Harry purchases a farm on the outskirts of town and sets it up to facilitate and contain his full moon transformations while he finds a way to get his wolf under control. Venturing into town for supplies, he is surprised to find Draco - Drake in this American town - working at the local grocers and looking frail and sickly. True to form, Harry simply cannot resist his curiosity and begins imposing himself upon the initially unwilling Draco.

This fic builds the relationship between Draco and Harry gradually and in such a unique way. Draco is initially resistant to Harry's attention and attempts to provide charity until his failing health renders him quite literally incapable of resisting it. Harry's experience as a werewolf is one of the most creative and original takes on lycanthropy I've ever read. It seems to manifest more similarly to him being an animagus than a werewolf, but I truly loved the depiction and how it played into the story.

I initially discovered it through some gorgeous fanart by juiche that I will link below and have since discovered a slew of other talented artists who have created their own renditions of various scenes from the fic. It is truly a gorgeous story of redemption, mercy, and found family that tugged at my heartstrings relentlessly. It's one that I revisit regularly and will never be able to forget about, not that I'd ever want to. The world building, magical theory, and original lore is mezmerizing, and I cannot thank xiaq enough for sharing such a beautifully crafted tale with us.

Bonus fanart:

Draco wearing Harry's quidditch jersey by @longdaytogo

Draco cuddling with wolf Harry by @juiche

Wolf Harry crawling into bed with Draco by @valushk4

[phoenotopia]

Introducing Star Iliad!

We’re happy to announce our next game, “Star Iliad”! Now in development.

Star Iliad is a retro-futuristically themed Metroidvania that takes place inside a giant star whale.

See the teaser trailer!

In the game, you’ll play as Blythe Braves, a Star Ranger who patrols a remote region of the interstellar frontier. Heeding a distress signal, she investigates to find a curious large rock formation in the shape of a whale. Shortly after landing and locating a couple of castaways, her ship is destroyed by unknown alien creatures. Stranded and surrounded, but not outgunned, she joins forces with other castaways in a bid to escape. A big adventure ensues!

Where Phoenotopia had more Zelda-style leanings, Star Iliad dives deeper into Metroid territory with a larger, interconnected map and a stronger focus on gun combat. We’ve learned the correct lessons from Phoenotopia— which is… Guns are Good 👍 Bats are Bad 👎 (joking!)

The story won’t be taking a backseat. While Phoenotopia featured a large ensemble cast, Star Iliad narrows its focus to a smaller group of more thoroughly explored characters.

(Characters can leverage expressive portraits to drive emotionally charged scenes)

Some additional in-development pics. We have both very finished & very unfinished looking areas.

Legacy of Phoenotopia

Since Phoenotopia’s development concluded, we’ve received some really encouraging emails from fans expressing how much they enjoyed it and even sharing their concern about whether we were doing alright. This meant a lot, especially considering Phoenotopia was not a strong seller.

For a while now, I’ve felt the need to allay those fears and let everyone know that we’re alive and hard at work on something new. With Steam’s fourth anniversary for Phoenotopia approaching, it felt like the right moment to finally share an update.

True, Phoenotopia was not a strong seller, but it would not turn out to be as bleak as I previously believed. Long after sales should have dwindled to zero, the game found a small, but steady threshold—a lifeline that has kept us funded. We’ve also been able to rely on family (and the occasional side job or two) to stay afloat.

Lastly, I think the game got some organic word of mouth, so there would be random times here and there where a youtuber or renowned streamer covered Phoenotopia and we’d get an unusual sales spike out of nowhere.

So, to all the fans who supported us, whether by buying the game, spreading the word, or just sending us kind messages—thank you! You’ve sustained us in ways you may not even realize, and we’re incredibly grateful 🙇

Chronicling Star Iliad’s development with a new Dev Log! (on wordpress)

After Phoenotopia, there was a bit of wandering around and thinking about what was next.

I wanted to settle into a quieter pace of development for a while. With Phoenotopia, I had been doing long form dev log updates. I wanted to try something different – a smaller, but more frequent form of dev logging. And it appeared that the new dev blogging meta was social media like Twitter & Instagram.

But there was no point in starting right away. Because 4 years back, we didn’t know what we were working on. It would take about a year of exploring & feeling around before “Star Iliad” developed enough shape and form that it could be talked about. Then we started twitter (@StarIliad) and instagram (@StarIliad), and started posting. Not as regular as I thought I would it turns out – short form updates have their own unique challenges and dev logging is always easy to neglect.

Still, if you’re curious, you can look at the StarIliad twitter account and enjoy the past 3 years of short form dev log posts (it may keep you entertained for all of 10 minutes).

As for the instagram account, it never quite took off, basically dying right out the gate >_>

In any case, we’re in the midst of development. It’s difficult to see the finish line from here, so I can’t announce a release date. What I can announce is the return of the dev log, where like times of yore, I will be chronicling our thoughts and tribulations until we reach the finish line. I invite you to join us by subscribing to the new dev log on wordpress.

(Also, please wishlist on Steam! It helps with the algorithm)

[mariacallous]

Since President Donald Trump mandated that remote and partially remote federal workers all must return to their offices, thousands of employees across the country have been figuring out how to navigate new commutes, seating arrangements, and a lack of supplies as basic as toilet paper and legal pads while still getting their work done.

One effect of all this, many federal employees tell WIRED, is that they are traveling long distances to spend all of their time in virtual meetings.

“I don’t directly work with anyone in the office that I am going into,” one employee at the Department of Housing and Urban Development tells WIRED. “So I show up and sit on [Microsoft] Teams calls.”

A Treasury employee says they spend most of their time at the office on video calls as well, “because of people working at other sites … and that’s hard when working from a cubicle. I definitely get less done because of the distractions.”

At the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, one employee says that the focus on the return-to-office mandate has meant a lot of chaos for people who actually need to do their jobs in person. “Some teams and groups aren’t even on the same campuses because space was so limited. So they’re coming to work just to sit on the same virtual meetings as always,” they say. “And all the chaos has made it more difficult for the lab people, who actually need to be on campus. I’d say with everything they get two-to-three hours less of meaningful work out of me each day.”

Over the past few months, Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has upended the government. In addition to firing tens of thousands of federal employees, before being forced by judges to rehire some of them, return-to-office mandates have resulted in chaos. Outlets like CNN and Reuters reported on the initial confusion and disarray caused by forcing tens of thousands of employees back to the office all at once, but weeks later, employees say the situation is getting worse.

Though Trump and Musk have claimed the mandate would result in huge productivity increases and financial savings, more than 30 federal employees at 17 federal agencies tell WIRED the return-to-office order has resulted in widespread chaos, plummeting productivity, and significantly reduced services to the public. It isn’t just traveling to work to sit on Zoom calls—it’s that there may be no place to take the call or no working internet to connect to it. WIRED granted employees anonymity to speak freely about their experiences, which some say are affecting their physical and mental health—and nearly all say are resulting in a lower quality of work and worse public services.

"The workplace environment is unpleasant, loud, people talk about whatever they want, and the workload is insane with the mass layoffs and hiring freeze," an employee at the Department of Defense (DOD) tells WIRED. "This is a terrible place to work." The employee says they cry almost every day after leaving the office.

Multiple government employees claim that there isn’t enough space in federal offices, or necessary equipment, to make their return worthwhile.

At a DOD building, one employee says, the influx of people now working from the office has made simply accessing the facility a daily struggle for them.

“We are on a secure military facility with only a few access points,” the employee tells WIRED. “There are not enough gate guards to open multiple access points so the traffic backs up onto the highway.”

At one Department of Homeland Security (DHS) office, during the first week of the return-to-office mandate in March, around 40 people were forced to work out of a single room. “I have lots of meetings every day, so I would have to go elsewhere to find some privacy, along with everyone else,” a DHS employee tells WIRED. Now, employees are not assigned office spaces until they arrive at work each day. “Every day, we have to go to one room to get an office assignment,” says the employee. “You don't know the assignment until the day of. If you are not assigned an office, you sit in a training room until that happens. My productivity has drastically decreased.” The offices are also so “gross,” the employee says, that they bring their own cleaning products to work.

Weeks after returning to the office, a Social Security Agency (SSA) employee claims there isn’t enough furniture for everyone. “If you're stuck on a floor without enough chairs, you're stuck standing for eight hours,” they say. “I'm unfocused, exhausted, and in pain. I'm certainly not at 100 percent.”

An employee at the Department of Agriculture (USDA) says he was ordered to return to his office on March 10, despite being hired for a fully remote position in 2022. There isn’t enough space for private meetings, so if he wants to talk to one of the employees he supervises, he says, he has no options. “For private staff calls I have to go out to my truck and use my personal phone,” he tells WIRED. “I have requested a government cell, but they tell me I won't get it since I'm back in an office.”

Tech issues have plagued the return of many federal employees.

The USDA employee claims that the internet connection at his new office is “far worse than it is at home. So much so that I have had trouble using Teams with my staff in recent calls.”

“We are getting hammered with RTO tickets,” says another source at the USDA, describing the number of employees making requests for equipment to do their jobs in-office. “We do not have the IT infrastructure to support this massive RTO mandate.”

The DOGE-enforced $1 spending limit on federal credit cards, enforced in February, has exacerbated the problem, leading to shortages of basic supplies.

“All the money we saved on decommissioning equipment, saving on having contractors run cabling, enterprise hardware savings, will all be gone,” the USDA source says. “This RTO will not only bring work completion down for people now having to commute and people are going to work exactly their eight hours and not any time over. The stoppage of IT issues will bring down a lot of this as well.”

At the Internal Revenue Service, which ordered its workers back to the office four weeks ago, the $1 limit caused significant problems for those back in the office. “They have no soap, toilet paper, or paper towels anywhere in the building. Their water machine is broken. Many cannot get on LAN, and the Wi-Fi keeps going down,” one IRS employee tells WIRED. Another SSA employee says that they were told to “ration paper.”

“Supplies are limited because no one has purchasing authority,” the Treasury employee tells WIRED. “It’s a running joke that we bring our own pens and paper. We have a bit of a stock of pens in my department but can’t order more. We are out of notebooks, though there are some partially used legal pads from meetings available.”

Employees say the return-to-office mandate has also negatively impacted their productivity. “My whole team had been, probably to a fault, working long hours on quick turnaround projects,” a source at the Army Futures Command, which operates under the DOD, tells WIRED. “We were able to do a lot of this at home after dinner in the evening, because we’ve all got kids and family obligations. [Return to office] has ended all of that.”

Some federal employees say the return-to-office mandates are having a negative impact on their health.

One employee at the SSA, who identifies as queer and uses they/he pronouns, is also disabled and suffers from chronic pain and mobility issues. Still, they were left with no option but to make the long journey from their home to the office once the return-to-office mandate was enforced.

“With no car, I am walking a mile to the train, and from the station to the office on concrete and metal, limping along, using elevators when I can,” they say, adding, “While I can ask for Reasonable Accommodations, our DEI offices were gutted, so despite being directed to apply through the proper channels, there's no one there to process them.” In the weeks since they’ve returned to the office, nothing has improved.

“I'm not sleeping well, I can't have access to chairs and desks and monitors at proper heights to make me more comfortable,” they say. “I've had to start revisiting my orthopedic doctor to pursue treatments and start physical therapy again.”

A USDA employee says that returning to an office has aggravated their long-dormant carpal tunnel symptoms.

“I got an old wooden desk that is not intended to be a workplace,” the employee tells WIRED. “As a result of the table being too high for the chair they gave me, my carpel tunnel has been aggravated with numbness and piercing pain in the hand. My carpel tunnel has not been an issue for about 25 years now.”

A Treasury employee says that people on her team have had to quit due to stress stemming from the return-to-office mandate and the uncertainty of what’s next. “People here love their jobs. We love what we do,” they say. “Getting fired would mean so much more than just losing a paycheck.”

Some employees say these fears, combined with the poor working conditions, are impacting their mental health as well.

“I’m just going through a depressive episode in part because of the nonstop uncertainty and stress,” says an employee at the DOD. “Even the hardcore military bros in my agency are feeling grim about everything that’s happening.” A USDA employee told WIRED that they are now dealing with severe depression due to these mandates and general fear.

The threat of a reduction in force, or RIF, remains a constant concern for employees as they return to federal offices.

“There is just a lot of very dark humor at the office,” the Treasury employee says. “I think all of us are expecting to get RIFd or fired or something, but we are just waiting. Business as usual while everything is on fire.”