#more hypocrisy what else is new

[vipper73]

As soon as I saw soulfire won I really shouldn't have opened twitter LOL

They're my favorite team and I can't even enjoy when they win because the toxic assholes HAVE to complain and now they're threatening the eggs like???

Y'all GOOD?! Touch grass my fucking god

[crowcryptid]

idk how someone catching a goose became nationwide news and somehow became goose = cats and dogs

[randomshyperson]

Do I Wanna Know - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #05

Summary: Taking advantage of the fact that the Avengers are going through a divorce, you decide to visit your (not-so-secret) girlfriend in the compound. While they fight, you entertain Wanda and present her with a third option besides staying in the tower or fighting Steve Rogers: to run away with you.

Warnings: (+18), shapeshifting reader, some talking of gender identity, implied gender neutral but use of female pronouns, established and secret (ish) relationship, canon-divergence, bottom!Wanda, making out, unprotected sex, creampie, intimate teasing, praising, general fluff.  | Words: 4.131k

This work was turned into a series. Check the masterlist here.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It got more dangerous every time it happened. But getting caught, and all the consequences that would come with it, were distant ideas, possibilities that didn't cross Wanda's mind, especially when she was at your place.

She didn't think about the team, the country, what anyone else might think and judge about the relationship - if she could call it that - between the two of you.

All Wanda could focus on when she was around you was undeniably you.

It became a secret routine, a hidden part of her life that she looked forward to almost all the time. Between tiring and dangerous missions, a new excitement among the gray corners of the private life of what many would call the most powerful Avenger.

Nobody knew about you, not the way she did anyway. What the others saw was the smuggler with no loyalty - the thief who stole and would steal from anyone in her path, for the best price. And could also take anything she was paid to take. From a diamond necklace to an infinity stone, from the most exclusive party of the world's elite to the secret country in the middle of the African continent. 

Sometimes, Wanda would trace Wakanda's scar on your skin while you slept, and wonder if the person you were at that moment was the same person that King T'Challa wanted behind bars for a few pieces of metal.

The moral part didn't bother her much - if she was honest, Wanda understood impressions and what really mattered very well. Coming from a country exploited by the United States, which praised a man in blue who was very reminiscent of the captains who marched to the corners of the world to massacre cities, to one who wore iron armor and produced the same bombs that took the lives not only of her parents, but of the vast majority of the children she grew up with, Wanda understood hypocrisy like no one else. Despite everything that had happened to her, she shared a roof with the man indirectly responsible for her parents' deaths. No one could judge her so easily, but Wanda was sure that if your relationship went public, it would happen in the blink of an eye.

So when she was fleeing, for hours between one mission and another, one meeting and another, she tried to enjoy you as much as possible.

And sometimes, when you were apart for too long, and she worried that she was beginning to forget the features of your face, Wanda could prepare a surprise.

She could lie, taking advantage of her magic or not, to prolong everything from your time together to the sensations you shared in bed. She could haunt you - and you would use that term because, without her around, the feeling of lack was very similar to that of loss.  - Wanda would invade your dreams, like a sigh in the night never to leave your mind.

But more often than not, she would simply mark you with hickeys and scratches on everything hidden beneath your uniform, and you might leave a path of purple through the valley of her breasts that would be the only proof of the hours she had spent enjoying your company.

The Avengers were on a thin line now - Accords, fights, and old friends, and neither you nor Wanda knew it, but soon, the world would see you two the same way. 

Criminals on the run.

But the future hasn't arrived yet - And Wanda, unbeknownst to you, was locked away in a tower like an ancient princess, and you, against the advice of your own safety, went to visit a damsel who wasn't so much defenseless but would definitely be distress to see you there.

"You can't be here." The warning came against your lips, pressed into hers half a second after your arrival into the room - you could only kiss back, smiling at the tug on your leather jacket that fell to the floor behind your feet. 

"I missed you too princess." That's what you said back, your hand wrapped around her waist as your tongue slid into hers. 

Wanda sighed, her body yearning for your touch and presence just as much as her heart for the last few weeks without seeing you. Despite pushing you around the room, until you were sitting on the bed, Wanda interrupted the motions, her frown of concern and her out-of-rhythm breathing escaping through her swollen, ajar lips.

"I'm serious." She begins a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place. "They can't see you here-"

"The Avengers aren't home, I was told." You justify quickly, your gaze wandering to look her up and down. Wanda always looked so beautiful, it was almost unfair. "United Nations meeting, everyone's talking about it."

One of your hands plays with the folds of her skirt, pulling it up, but Wanda pushes them away.

"Most of them, yes, but I'm not alone." She murmurs, looking around and undeniably using magic to check the floor. "Vision is keeping me company."

"Which one is Vision anyway?" You retort casually, not caring about the last gesture, moving your hands under her clothes and biting back a smile at the way her thigh muscles quiver with your touch. 

Wanda rests her other hand on your shoulder, her gaze serious. "The one with the damn magical stone you once stole from Hydra." She retorts, sighing softly as she feels your fingers playing with the laces of her panties. "Please, detka. Vision... would kill you if he found you here."

You click your tongue. “I could disguise myself…” But Wanda shakes her head.

“The stone can see beyond.” She retorts with a certainty that makes you assume this information came directly from her team's study of the Stone. But instead of answering right away, you pull her by the thighs onto your lap, smiling mischievously at the surprised yelp that you muffle on your lips. Wanda tries to listen to reason, but it's too faint compared to the pounding of her own heart. 

"Don't make a sound and he'll never know." You whisper your last request before kissing her intently, your bold hands teasing inside her blouse. It doesn't take long for Wanda to be restless in your lap, panting against your tongue exploring her mouth so hungrily, sweating with the precise stimulation of her nipples as your hands pull down her dark bra. But despite a mind almost completely clouded with arousal, she bites at your lower lip and breaks the kiss.

"I missed you." Wanda likes you to know these things because sometimes, you have less than an hour together and it feels like one of those times. She hasn't seen you for weeks, and God knows when she'll get another chance now that the team seems on the verge of collapse. 

You give her a teasing smile, your hands wrapped around her. "You're so sweet, Wanda. My beautiful, darling, princess." Your compliments were accompanied by chaste kisses against her jaw, and it always works to leave her a mess, melting into you and at your beck and call. 

In the safety of your embrace, Wanda risked being vulnerable:

"Did you miss me too?"

You're not so good at these things - It comes from your past, so different from her happy childhood although later overshadowed by the height of a civil war as a teenager, but definitely different from growing up in Tony Stark's mansions and summer houses, or surrounded by family lunches like Bruce Banner or Thor. If anything, your childhood was closer to that of a Black Widow, with training and punishments whenever the expectations were not achieved. 

Still, Wanda warmed her way into your heart, and you tried to give back as best you could.

"I don't really think about you when I'm away." Her expression drops immediately, but before she can conclude anything, you move one of your hands to grab hers, and bring it back inside your blouse. Your intense gaze is the only thing stopping her from pulling away. And when Wanda can feel a new scar near your abdomen, she swallows dryly. "Or rather, I just have to force myself not to do anymore. What you're feeling happened in Berlin. An MK2 hidden in the belt of an arms dealer who asked me... how much I was enjoying America." You narrate, and Wanda frowns, being able to visualize the memory fresh in your mind. You swallowed and looked down at your lap. "I don't know how much he knew, but he said your name, and I just... flinched. I was blinded by rage and he took advantage of it. So, no, Wanda. I can't afford to let you cross my mind when I'm away, because you become a weakness. And I wasn't trained to have weaknesses."

Despite the way her body warms to the confession, Wanda gives you a playful look.

"Should I apologize, you know, for making a romantic out of the grumpy assassin?" she teases, and you chuckle, spinning her around in a tug to drop her on her back on the bed, you on top. 

With your body pressed into hers, one hand on her waist and the other adjusting her hair away from her eyes, you nuzzle your noses together. "Don't ever apologize for making me feel this way." You whisper, and Wanda closes her eyes in anticipation, her cheeks burning. "You have me in a way that no one ever could, Wanda Maximoff."

The next kiss is intense and charged with meaning. It makes Wanda shudder and gasp into your mouth. You smile, secretly proud of the effect you have on her, while your hands move down to pull her thighs up and make her wrap herself around you, ankles locked behind your knees.

The position elicits a deep moan from the girl beneath you, and when you adjust yourself to press your pelvis against her, Wanda chokes in surprise, opening her eyes.

"Is that...?"

Without losing your relaxed posture, you offer her a little smile full of the worst intentions. "I thought I'd play differently today." You reply, grinding gently against her and making Wanda bite her lips. The movement leaves you equally affected, but you let her know: "I can always change back..."

Wanda tightens the grip of her legs around you, shaking her head. Her cheeks turn pink. "N-no! I like... I like you either way." She manages to whisper, and you smile warmly, kissing her softly. 

One of your hands comes down to invade her blouse, starting an intense making-out session between you, enough to mess up your hair and the bed sheets and leave you hard against her thigh.

When Wanda stops to breathe again, there's a wet spot on the thigh she's spent the last few minutes grinding against - and you take the opportunity to plant kisses on her collarbone. Your hands go down to unbutton your pants.

Between kisses, you warn her: "I have to be careful... I think it works like a real one. Speaking of biological functions, you know. "

She uses magic to force your pants down to your ankles, aroused enough that the delay was driving her to the brink of insanity. Still, she manages to gasp between kisses: "You think?"

You hum, distracted by the sensation of your cock rubbing against her covered intimacy - body shuddering with arousal. "Y-yes... I've never... used it for sex before... Just for the job, you know? While in disguise."

The information made Wanda need to ignore the liquid arousal and press trembling hands onto your shoulders, gently pushing you away and attracting your attention.

After a sigh, she asked: "Are you comfortable, darling? With this of course... I don't know the exact feel of your powers, but I don't want you to think you need to change a single thing about yourself for me. Who you are is incredible and enough."

You break into a loving sigh and attack her face with kisses that make Wanda giggle shyly. "You're too sweet on me, Maximoff." You tease, and wrap your arms around her on the bed, hugging her tightly. Wanda bites her lips, still well aware of your lust brushing her, but trying to ignore the sensation in case you change your mind. After all, just your presence after so many weeks away was what she really wanted. Sex was just a bonus. 

Somehow, she ends up on top again, your foreheads touching. 

"It's different because of my powers, everything they do for me, changing my body as needed, you know? But still, I feel that even without these abilities, these details wouldn't make any difference to me." You confess with a sigh, one of your hands stroking behind her back. "Whether my body resembles of a boy or a girl, I say. In my head, I'm always in the middle, or outside of it. I can't explain it very well, and I’m still trying to understand it better but… I know for a certain that I want to make you feel good. In any of the ways I’m able to."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment, her heart pounding and her chest warm with tenderness. She doesn't know exactly when she fell for you - whether it was from the first second your eyes met, or whether it was over time, between flirtations and arguments, until finally, she had the courage to act on those feelings and was lucky that you held on to them as much as she did.

Instead of answering with words, she kisses your skin. Your cheeks, your jaw, and your lips, while her hands touch wherever they can. It takes you by surprise, the familiar sensation of her magic on your clothes until you're both skin to skin on the mattress. Wanda sighs deeply, still with her eyes closed, as she adjusts herself on your lap, but looks up at you again before shifting to fit into you.

"Are you ready, love?" You whisper against her lips, one hand on her waist, the other lining up at her warm entrance. Wanda welcomes you with breathtaking heat - you slide in easily, yet she gasps until she gets used to the sensation of being filled, her hands firmly on your shoulders. You sigh too, trying not to get lost in the sensation as you ask: "Can I move?"

"Y-yes, please." She practically meows impatiently, her forehead falling against your shoulder as your hips move upwards, gently thrusting inside her. But Wanda clenches inside, hot and eager, and you grunt, trying to hold in your own pleasure. She grinds down against your hips, the sound of her wet arousal echoing between you. Your hands tighten on her hips, and you gradually increase the speed, making Wanda gasp between moans against your ear. "Dorogoy... that feels so good..."

You manage to gasp back, nodding softly in agreement: "You have no idea how amazing you feel, baby... so fucking wonderful... God..." It takes you by surprise, the first reach of your climax. You try to hold back, but Wanda bites your skin hard as she feels the warm shot on her walls, and your grunt turns into a heavy moan as you spill inside her. Wanda wraps her arms around your shoulders, grinding gently as you throb out the last drops, which soon run down her thighs.  A moment later, your voice hoarse, you whisper: "I'm sorry, babe. I didn’t... know it would be so hard to hold it..."

She giggles shyly, kissing your skin before looking at you again. A mischievous gaze. "Do you need a break, or perhaps that was the highlight of the night...?" She teases, but you snort in fake indignation, fixing your grip on her waist to flip her onto the bed. The gasp of surprise turns into a muffled whimper as you thrust inside her powerfully, hard again as if you hadn't just come. Her hands move to your waist, and her nails dig into your hips with each thrust.

"You were saying?" You challenge softly, panting against her lips. Wanda chuckles under her breath, one of her legs tucking behind yours, increasing your reach deep inside her. With each thrust in, she shuddered and gasped on the bed, closer and closer to the edge. You lowered yourself completely, pinning her to the mattress and burying yourself inside her as you felt her become impossibly tight. Wanda came in a high-pitched whimper, her nails digging into your lower back just enough to make a mark. You kissed her jaw, rocking gently as she still rode the waves of her own climax.

When you suddenly pulled out, cumming against her soaked and abused pussy, she mewed in protest, her leg trying to pull down and back inside of her. You chuckled hoarsely.

"Baby, I shouldn't have come inside the first time." You whispered, kissing her cheek. "I have to be careful, it's not replication, I transform truly. Let's get you a pill after this, all right? And we'll need some condoms for next-."

"Problems for later." Wanda cuts in good-naturedly, pulling your face back to hers and kissing you intently, effectively silencing any rational thought in your head.

It's honestly the best you've felt in a long time - as it usually is when you're around Wanda Maximoff.

It shouldn't surprise you that much when a few hours of rolling around in bed together, the moment is interrupted by knocks on the door.

Wanda, naked and panting, is sitting on your hips, and you're inside her still, ready to come again when she practically jumps away, and you have to muffle the grumble of frustration against her pillow.

"Y-yeah?" she manages to ask the visitor, sitting on shaky knees on the bed, one hand pulling the covers over her body. 

It takes a moment, but the male voice answers: "Sorry to disturb you, Wanda, but I made dinner. Won't you join me?"

She pushes the fingers you threaten to drag between her legs away, a smile playing on her lips.

"I'm not hungry, Vision, thank you."

There's another pause, in which Wanda throws you warning glances to stop trying to touch her before the robot speaks again, more seriously than before.

"Wanda, can we talk? Please."

She frowns, and exchanges a look with you, who sigh, rolling your eyes and looking away, your chest burning with a strange sensation. Using magic to bring one of the robes to her after muttering "One second", Wanda stumbles to the bedroom door, which she leaves with only a small gap to the corridor.

"Vis, it's not a good time-

"She shouldn't be here, Wanda." Vis cuts in, and you tense up on the bed. But he makes no mention of entering the room, and Wanda comes out wrapped in her robe, covering the ajar door with her body as a dry laugh escapes her.

"That's none of your business."

The man shakes his head in disbelief, and his tone of voice, although restrained, can be heard by you inside the room.

"Wanda, please be rational." He insists seriously. "At such a delicate moment for the Avengers, to bring... a criminal into the tower..."

"Vision, go away."

He sighs, hesitantly. "I should report this." He mutters, and although you can't see Wanda's face, you can see the way her shoulders tense and you can imagine the hardness of her expression.

"Do as you wish, but know, I will never speak to you again if anything happens to her."

Vision shakes his head. "And where do you think their choices will lead? If it's not the Avengers, it'll be the police who capture her. Interpol, or whichever organization finds her first. What they're doing, Wanda, has no future and you know it." He says, sighing in disapproval. "Send her away now, or I'll warn the others." Vision announces at last.

"Maybe I'll just go with her." Wanda retorts, but Vision chuckles dryly.

"You have no idea what's happening outside those walls, Wanda." He retorts seriously. "The fine line we're on. Mr. Stark is trying to keep everyone out of danger, and after everything we caused in Lagos,  wandering around without signing the Accords is out of the question."

Wanda chokes in surprise. "What... Am I not allowed to leave the tower?"

Vision clears his throat, nodding. "It's for the safety of the civilians." He retorts coldly. "Although I believe your intentions are good now, your record as a Hydra terrorist and recent events are not in your favor. It's best, for everyone, that you stay here until things settle down and all the signatures are counted."

Wanda is speechless at the absurdity, but in the meantime, you're already dressed and she jumps softly when your hand opens the rest of the door. Vision's eyes go wide, but you just give him a forced smile.

"Hey, microwave, long time no see." You greet sarcastically, and the man adjusts himself.

"Unfortunately not long enough." He retorts coldly. 

"Jeez, someone's rusty." You grumble, but he looks at you seriously.

"Don't abuse my patience, Miss. You have fifteen minutes to leave this tower, or I'll call National Security with your location."

You rest your arm on Wanda's shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "Wow, am I that important?"

Vision takes a hard step forward, but Wanda's magic pushes him back with a jolt. You laugh at his indignant expression.

"That's enough, Vision. She's leaving soon, and you're leaving now." Wanda warns, at last, her irises bright red. The synthesizer begrudgingly gives you one last threatening look and leaves the corridor. 

You wrap your arms around Wanda again to kiss her hard as you close the door with your foot, but she doesn't match the intensity, and soon, her hands are on your shoulders, gently pushing you away and stopping the kiss. 

At your confused expression, she swallows dryly. "You should go." She whispers, fear in her eyes. "I know he meant it. And I don't want to ruin this night with you getting shot by some federal agent."

You hesitate, but end up nodding, kissing her on the cheek before walking away to get your shoes.

But as you put them on, and Wanda hugs her own body, you take a chance:

"You know you don't have to stay here, right?" You begin a little upset. "You could do like that archer guy and ask for a retirement. Or have your friends forgotten that you've already saved the world once and therefore, you don’t owe any of them shit?"

Despite the childish stubbornness in your tone, Wanda smiles sadly before retorting. "I don't think they've forgotten, but things are more complicated than before. And I'm not like Clint Barton, darling." She retorts, swallowing dryly. "I don't have a family to go back to."

You frown, absorbing the words in silence as you finish tying your sneakers. And then, as if it wasn't the sweetest thoughtful thing you've ever said to her, you declare:

"I could be family, Wanda."

She looks away for a moment because she doesn't want to cry in front of you. She has the impression that you won't leave - and she needs you to go so that you can be safe - if you notice the tears. 

Sniffling softly, and wiping her face before you notice, Wanda asks. "Do you really mean that?"

You stand up, moving closer to her to hold her cheeks. "Every word." You assure her with a smile. "We could travel the world, and have lunch and dinner in different places every day. We would buy all the most expensive and tacky things just because we can..."

Wanda giggles shyly at the fantasy, allowing herself to believe it for just half a second. She holds your hands cupped around her face afterward and sighs.

"It's a beautiful dream, darling."

You swallow dryly, staring at her. "Just a dream, isn't it?" You sigh sadly, and she nods just as upset.

Her tone is very low, like a secret. "They'll find you eventually. And I... God knows how much my power will grow. I can't trust myself outside of here, without the help of training. Stark's containment plans. And I know it's horrible, but I don't want to hurt anyone. Ever again. And if I went with you, with this life you lead, eventually, I would."

You swallow dry, sighing in understanding. This time, it's you who sniffles.

“I’m always one call away, Wanda Maximoff. Whenever you need me, just pick up the phone.” Wanda feels her chest warm at your words, but all she does is smile tenderly against the kiss you place on her lips. 

Unknown to both of you, it won’t take long for her to call. With really unexpected big news.

Two of them precisely.

-&-

This work was turned into a series. Check the masterlist here.

[wormboytrav]

pov: you're on tumblr in the death note universe

💟kira-kira4652 Follow May 24, 2007

friendly reminder that if you support L you're not welcome on this blog <3 i hope you know you're gonna get what's coming for you eventually

👨‍💻touchmyevilghost-deactivated387421 Follow May 30, 2007

kira supporters continue to make no sense lmao, you do know he kills people that think like this right

🏩xxgod-of-furyxx Follow June 3, 2007

Lord Kira will judge you. Real name is Joel Derm, link to face here.

👨‍💻touchmyevilghost-deactivated387421 Follow June 4, 2007

the hypocrisy of doxxing someone to kira while keeping their own face off their blog will never not be funny to me

#tw kira

15,248 notes

🌁los-angeles-reaper Follow Apr 14, 2007

gonna be liveblogging the new wara ningyo murder doc on netflix guys, keep an eye out! i'm so excited, they got the aesthetic spot on!!! ^-^

🚍muffinstory Follow Apr 14, 2007

gross. anyway you can donate to the family of the victims here, here, and here

🌁los-angeles-reaper Follow Apr 15, 2007

okay wow, god forbid i have comfort media. if you're going to stalk the tag to spam that shit you might as well block it. i'm literally neurodivergent and a minor too imagine being a grown adult arguing with a child on the internet.

#true crime discourse #wara ningyo murders #straw doll documentary

148 notes

🎁milkpuzzle Follow July 8, 2007

why generation 1 had the best bionicles, an analysis

Read More

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 8, 2007

kys

🎁milkpuzzle Follow July 8, 2007

you can leave if you're not having fun, mello

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 8, 2007

fuck you i hope you get run over by a bus

3 notes

🎰tsukigod Follow May 2, 2007

Desk Setup Inspo

#clean aesthetic #stationary #follow for organizing tips

9,257 notes

👔wirewerewolf Follow Apr 5, 2007

oh my god i'm just trying to go to my sister's college entrance ceremony in peace and these two dudes in the front row will not shut the fuck up i hate it here

👔wirewerewolf Follow Apr 5, 2007

update: one of them is barefoot (?????)

295 notes

🎩official-l Follow Sep 26, 2007

Due to an overwhelming amount of spam, asks have been temporarily disabled. Updates to follow.

🎹 gaming-matto Follow Sep 27, 2007

visual representation of your ask box once i'm done with it

🎩official-l Follow Sep 28, 2007

What does this mean

125,638 notes

🔋littlevanishworld Follow July 8, 2007

okay but does anyone else think L and kira are the same guy

🔋littlevanishworld Follow July 9, 2007

no hear me out on this, they appeared at the same time, which is pretty convenient. and despite L supposedly being a great detective i can find no evidence of cases he's solved in the past and he obviously hasn't solved this one yet. so he's either kira or he's stupid

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 9, 2007

bad take op

#you guys just dont understand him like i do #he's smarter than youll ever be

351 notes

🧇thebazoinka-deactivated28479912 Follow Oct 24, 2008

✨KIRA SAFETY SPELL: like to charge reblog to cast✨

🎍taro-matsui-here Follow Dec 2, 2008

Claimed! 🙌

11,689 notes

[wolfmoonmusic]

Could you do a young!James Potter where reader tries to ask him to be their valentines but he keeps talking over them and talking about Lilly. So reader gets fed up and asks someone else, and James gets jealous or smth?

Hypocrisy

Summary: James doesn’t seem to want anyone other than Lily. So after one point, you decide to stop trying 

Requested by anon

w/c: 4,500+

Pairing : James Potter x reader, Surprise marauder x reader, marauders x platonic!reader

A/N: I’M SO EXCITED THIS IS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST AHHHHH. Thank you so much anon. Ily

Reader is an animagus here. I made her a wolf animagus (since they do exist, but I kept her marauder name as Aspen (or Penny) so really you imagine any animal)

--------------------------------- <3

There was nothing you and James Potter hadn’t done together. Both of your parents were close and that meant that you usually spent time with each other. More often than not, you’d be at his house. At this point you knew his house better than you did yours.

So were you best friends? Hell yeah.

But what came with being best friends since you were in diapers?

By the 3rd year at Hogwarts, you’d fallen head over heels for the boy.

Now 3 years later, though his obsession for Lily had grown, it changed absolutely nothing. You were in love with James Fleamont Potter.

The rest of the marauders knew. But somehow, James was absolutely oblivious.

But this year would be different. You would confess. You promised yourself. 

But now it’s February and you’d done nothing.

“Are you even going to ask him out n/n?” Sirius asked as you both ran to your class. As usual you were too busy pranking the Slytherins to realize that the next class had started.

“Of course I am Black! Patience is a virtue.” You both came to a halting stop in front of your DADA class, straightening out your robes. 

“If he doesn’t accept, you know who to contact love,” Sirius said, fixing his hair. You shot him a look. “Way to be a supportive friend, Padfoot.”

He shrugged before stepping into the class. 

“Mr. Black! Ms. L/N! Get to your seats,” your professor ordered. He was too accustomed to this by now. You ducked your head taking your seat behind James and next to Remus.

“What was it this time?” Remus whispered, eyes narrowed. Sirius turned back, a huge grin on his face. “Something special for Snivellus,” he sneered, earning a slap on the head from you. “Oh shut up! We didn’t bother Snape. We did however ensure Malfoy wakes up with pink hair tomorrow.” You informed Remus.

This time James turned around, “Bloody brilliant Aspen!” You felt your cheeks heat up before Sirius interjected. “Hey! It was my idea Prongs.”

“WILL THE FOUR OF YOU STAY SILENT FOR ONE CLASS?” your professor yelled, causing the four of you to shut up, not before you and Sirius let out snorts of laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By that evening, everyone was talking about the plan the 7th Years had hatched. 

Everyone who had a date, and only those who had a date to Valentine’s were being asked to ditch class on the 14th to go to Hogsmeade. The prefects made sure that everyone knew that if anyone didn’t have a date and still tagged along, they’d be reported.

“This is your chance, you know?” Remus whispered once the news had reached the Gryffindor common room. You nodded, gulping thickly as the nervousness took over.

“You know who I’m going to ask?” James asked, eyes lighting up. “Lemme guess Prongs, uhhhhh, i dont know? Lily maybe? As in the Lily you’ve been asking since first year?” Sirius asked, feigning confusion. He was met with a flying cushion to his face as he fell back laughing.

You knew he was right. James was going to ask Lily. And it didn’t help that you’d noticed the way Lily had started paying more attention to him. Remus put his arm around you and Sirius caught your eyes as he got back up. Something flashed in his, but for the first time since you’d met him, you couldn’t comprehend it.

“Who are you gonna ask Pads?” James asked, his homework long forgotten as he stretched out his arms.

Sirius seemed to have been caught-off guard which surprised you. It was normal for him to have a plan weeks before Valentine’s day. Remus, you and Peter would just tag along as James pestered Lily the entire day and Sirius hung out with his date. Except that one time in 4th year when a cute Hufflepuff had asked you out. Though it didn’t last long, even he could see the way you looked at James.

“I-I’m not gonna ask anyone,” he said, glancing over at you. Why did he look at you? Did he think you were going to judge him?

“Well,” Remus said leaning forward, “I’m going to ask a Ravenclaw out. The one that sits next to me in Charms.” The four of you gawked at Remus. “What?!” you asked. He shrugged, “She’s cute, and smart, and I think she likes me.” You leaned back, “Well shit, even Remus has a date now,” you said, throwing your hands up. He swatted your arm, “What’s that s’posed to mean?” You shook your head laughing.

“Well uh- I’m gonna ask out a Hufflepuff,” Peter said, rubbing his hands together. Your jaw dropped. “That makes it official. Penny, you and I are gonna be left behind to study,” Sirius gagged. “Does that mean you think I have a chance, Pads?” James asked, smirking.

Sirius shrugged, “Honestly? I’d say this year? You do,” Nodding towards where Lily was sitting. You whipped your head around just in time to see her hair flying as she turned away.

She’d been looking at James. 

You covered your face with your hands, leaning into Remus’s side as he gave your shoulder a squeeze.

When you peeked through your fingers, you saw Sirius giving you an apologetic look, and James just staring at Lily, with a start-struck look on his face. You sighed, getting up and grabbing your books. “I’m gonna call it a night,” you mumbled. “You alright love?” Remus asked, concern etched across his face. You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah Remmy, just tired,” you said. You didn’t dare to look back as you wished them all good night. 

You hadn’t lied. You were tired. Just not the exhausted kind of tired.

Tired of watching him fall more in love with her.

You lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe. Just maybe if you got to him before he asked her out. Maybe.

You clenched your fist, shutting your eyes tight as your roommates walked in, giggling. Someone shushed them. But their whispers were still loud. 

“So you’re gonna accept?” 

“Maybe, we’ll see.” You felt your eyes watering.

“Dorcas, you owe me a butterbeer.”

“You bet on this?!”

You shut your eyes tighter, the tears rolling down your cheek. Drowning the girls in your room out, you decided you had to get to him first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charms was the first class of the day. Also the only one that only you and James had. Sirius, Remus and Peter had a free period, and Lily wasn’t there either.

It was the one time you really got James to yourself.

“You alright n/n? You went to bed early yesterday, and you were quiet at breakfast,” James asked, placing his hand over yours, brows furrowed together in concern.

You nodded, smiling. “Like I said, I was just a bit tired is all,” you replied.

He nodded, taking his hand off, as he went back to playing with his quill.

Goddammit.

You started bouncing your leg up and down, nerves completely taking over you. Would this even work? Would he say yes? Or would it break your friendship forever? You wouldn’t know unless you asked.

You sighed. It was now or never. You cleared your throat before slightly turning to him. “Jamie”

He hummed, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“About the hogsmeade trip on the 14th-”

“How’s this?” He asked, shoving the piece of paper he’d previously been writing on, into your hands. 

You held it in complete shock, eyes wide as it scanned the paper.

It was a poem.

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

Your eyes have got me mesmerized

Your smile keeps me on a high

I know you think I'm arrogant,

Full of myself, a bit too content

But believe me when I say

Your responses make my day

I’m hoping that, I can gather the guts

To ask you out, before you make me go nuts

So today is the day,

I’d like to know if you’d be my date?

On Valentine’s Day?

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

It wasn’t perfect. But it was beautiful. Your heart was beating loud against your rib cage. 

Was it meant for you? 

Your hands were shaking, “I-”

“It’s for Lily, though I think that’s a bit obvious by now.” he laughed nervously.

You froze. Your heart dropped, and suddenly breathing became difficult. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. 

How foolish of you.

“So? How is it?” James asked, trying to duck and meet your eyes. 

You blinked away the gathering tears, forcing a smile. 

You looked up at him, straight into his beautiful hazel eyes. “It’s amazing James. If I were her, I would be absolutely flattered.” You said, your voice shaking slightly.

You willed yourself to hold it together, just until next period. You were free then, and so were Sirius and Remus.

James beamed. “Thanks Y/N.” He took the paper from your hands again, grinning all the while.

You turned back to the front of the class. You couldn’t focus, so instead you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the sting in your chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment you filled your friends in, Remus engulfed you in a hug. You tried not to burst into tears, as he held you tight, rubbing his hand up and down your back, as you clutched onto his sweater. After a few moments he pulled away, reaching into his pocket to grab a few chocolates and handed them to you. You mumbled a thanks before plopping down next to Sirius, who immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and you leaned into him. You’d hugged him before, but for some reason, this felt a little different. You shrugged it off, thinking it had to do with what you’d just felt.

“You still have a few days left n/n,” Remus said, cleaning up his desk, knowing far too well that none of you were going to study now. “He won’t say yes Moony,” you mumbled, wiping away a stray tear.

“Well, you gotta talk over him y’know,” Sirius said. His voice was thick with emotion. Which? You couldn’t tell. Nor did your mind register that fact. Remus watched Sirius carefully, as you opened yet another chocolate to gulp down.

“Won’t listen,” you said, licking the chocolate off of your fingers.

“You gotta make him n/n. Make him see what he’s missing. That someone’s there that loves him. That he’s unnecessarily running behind someone who isn’t giving him a second thought.” Sirius gulped. “Wise words Pads,” Remus said, smiling softly.

You hummed. Oblivious to the conversation both the boys were having with their eyes.

“Alright, I’ll try just twice more,” you declared, sitting up straight, looking at both the boys. Remus gave you an encouraging smile, but Sirius wouldn’t even look at you. Again, filled with emotions of your own, you didn’t think much of it.

You flipped open your books, and started scribbling. You had the entire day left to try. The last day to confirm was the day after, so you had time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gryffindor common room was often quiet in the afternoon, and it was usually the perfect place for you to get away from the craziness of it all. The silence was comforting more often than not, but today it only allowed your thoughts to grow. You shook it off, trying to enjoy the peace while you could. 

The boys could be a handful sometimes.

However, you were surprised when Sirius stepped through the painting. “Hey,” he said softly, dropping his bag onto the couch before sitting in front of you. “Hey?” You responded, confused. He shrugged, before taking out his books and a quill and started writing. 

You smiled softly. Him being here surrounded you in a weird sort of comfort. You took advantage of it, trying to focus on your homework.

That was until he came barging into the room.

“Evans just rejected a Ravenclaw! I’d say I’ve got a good chance,” he cheered before plopping down on the couch, arms outstretched. You and Sirius looked at eachother. Yet again, that look was back. The one you couldn’t read.

But just like that it was gone again, a smirk on his lips as he pointed to James with his thumb. 

Your eyes widened. 

But he was right and you knew it.

“James, I was thinking, for Valentine’s-”

“I should get Lily flowers! I’d love getting a card or flowers, though I think she would prefer roses,” James smiled. “Bloody genius n/n,” he grabbed his bag and just like that he was running out again.

You blinked a few times.

“Did he just- cut me off? A-Again?” You asked, your voice filled with hurt.

Sirius was next to you within seconds. “Well you know what to do now. You get him a card. He can’t cut you off then right?”

You looked at him, the words registering in your mind as you nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah that’s-” you looked at your books. “You know what? Fuck this,” you shoved all your books into your bag, “I’m gonna get James a card,” you said standing. 

“N-now?” Sirius asked, surprised.

You nodded, quickly bending down to kiss his cheek. “Bloody brilliant Siri.” And then you ran out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you called out running up behind him in the halls, one hand behind your back.

He spun around smiling, wrapping his hand around your shoulders once you reached him.

“Sorry, I’ve been so caught up trying to figure out what to get Evans that we haven’t really hung out,” he said.

You ignored the pang in your chest.

Third time’s the charm.

“Uh- about that James,” you handed him the card, revealing it from behind your back.

He stared at the beautiful handwriting.

You’d just drawn a bunch of hearts and written:

Will you be my Valentine?

In perfect cursive too, which was saying something, because you didn’t know cursive. At all.

He stared at it for a few seconds, your heart beat getting so loud and fast that you were sure he could hear it by now.

But when a grin broke out on his face, you calmed down.

Sirius was a gen-

“You’re the best, best friend ever Y/N!”

What?

“I-”

“This is just what she would like! I owe you a big one!” he said, engulfing you in a hug. Though his body was warm, the hug felt as cold as ice. It felt like someone had ripped your heart open.

Your eyes watered. “No James I-”

“It’s perfect n/n. Thank you,” he said pulling away, eyes scanning the card again. 

You felt sick, the tears spilling over. 

“I’m gonna give it to her ok? See you later,” he said, running off.

He hadn’t even looked at you.

A sob racked your body, your legs giving in. How was he so goddamn oblivious?

But you never hit the ground.

Strong arms wrapped around you, the smell of honey and cinnamon enveloping you. They lowered you gently to the ground. “I got you love,” he whispered. 

Sirius.

You curled into him, sobbing continuously and uncontrollably. You could hear people whispering all around you, but you couldn’t care less. “What is this ruckus?” came a strong feminine voice. “Goodness,” you heard her whisper. You didn’t open your eyes, and yet the tears never stopped flowing. Sirius’s sweater was wet now, and above all else, guilt creeped up on you. Why did you always allow him to pick up the pieces? Plus he liked this sweater a lot and now you were ruining it. You clenched your eyes tighter, trying to let the cinnamon scent calm you down. 

“Everyone scram! Go on, get back to your classes!” she yelled.

You fisted Sirius’s sweater, as he ran a hand through your hair.  “Mr.Black, take her back to the Gryffindor common room, I believe she requires yours and Mr.Lupin’s attention. You three are excused from classes today,” She said softly.

God bless you Professor McGonagall. 

“Thank you Professor,” Sirius responded. He brushed the stray hair from your face. “Love, let’s get you out of here yeah?”

You couldn’t open your mouth, not trusting your voice, so you just nodded, finally opening your eyes. He helped you up, nodding once to your professor as you both walked back to the common room.

His hand never left your shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were curled up on your bed, staring at your wall blankly, when Sirius came back with Remus. Both the boys’ pockets were full of chocolates, and Sirius was carrying his favorite sweater. The one which was also your favorite sweater. You sat up, taking it from him and slipping it on. James called it your “breakdown” sweater.

The James that would never be yours. 

Your eyes overflowed with tears again, and you tugged your knees closer to you.

Remus quietly climbed onto your bed, wrapping his arms around your shaking frame, and Sirius sat at the edge of your bed, watching with concern. You didn’t say anything. Not when Remus excused himself to go keep James busy.

Not when Sirius took Remus’s place, pulling you into him. Not when he took out your favorite novel and started reading.

Not after you started drifting off, when Sirius placed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering good night and slipping away. Not when everything in you told you to reach out and ask him to stay.

Not when you realized you still had his sweater on, and he hadn’t even asked for it back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were awoken by the smell of butter on toast. And chocolate.

“Remus it’s too early,” you mumbled, burying your face in the pillow.

“Breakfast’s done already. Do you know what kind of excuses Sirius and I had to come up with?” Remus chided, shaking your shoulder gently.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, turning to face him. “I’m sure he didn’t even ask,” you grumbled, pushing the hair out of your face. Remus frowned at that. “Of course he did. Sure he might be a prick for not seeing the obvious but you’re still his best friend. He still cares,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a piece of paper.

“He wanted me to give it to you, since he’s got class,” he held it out to you. You stared at it for a few seconds before slowly taking it from Remus’s hands and sitting up straight. 

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

Hey, hope you’re doing alright? The boys told me you’re down with a bad cold. Sorry I can’t come now, you know how it is with charms yeah? I promise I’ll come meet you as soon as I can.

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

You huffed, crumpling up the paper. The audacity! Remus shook his head, handing you the tray of food next.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he mumbled. But you heard him.

“Me?” you asked, shocked. Remus nodded.

“How?”

He shook his head again, laughing slightly. “You’re mad at James for missing the oblivious when you’re doing the same goddamn thing!” 

You blinked a few times, before his words settled in and your eyes grew wide. “You like me?”

Remus was taken aback, before he burst out laughing. “No you dummy, I’m talking about Sirius!”

“Ohhhhhhh.” You took a bite of the toast, chewing quietly. Sirius liked you? You felt your chest get heavy, an unfamiliar sensation flooding through you.

Guilt and…hurt? No, it’s like what you felt when you first started liking James.

“I know you love James, but can I offer a solution?” Remus asked you, one eyebrow raised. You nodded slowly unsure of where he was going with this.

“If there is just a tiny place for Sirius in your heart, give him a chance. If not, don't. I don't want to be there to pick up the parts for that mess,” he told you, popping a chocolate into his mouth. “However,” he held up a finger, “If any part of you, over the past year has felt anything romantic for Sirius. Please do ask him out. It’s been difficult taking care of both of you. Peter will drive himself completely, completely mad  if Sirius has even one more breakdown.”

“Peter knows?” you asked.

Remus laughed, “Why do you think I called you a hypocrite? It’s kind of obvious.”

Now that you thought about it, it made sense. 

All the time he spent with you. The glances from across the room.

And goddammit, the look you couldn’t decipher. 

You groaned, “Remmy what’ve I done??”

He shrugged. “Tomorrow’s the deadline. You still have time. While I have a date to fix,” he said with a smirk. You smiled, “Good luck!” 

And then you were left alone. You looked at the half eaten toast, and then to your hand, where Sirius’s long sweater was bunched up near the wrist. You sighed. “Oh Siri, you golden-hearted boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After spending nearly the entire day in your room thinking, you made your way to find Sirius, knowing exactly where he was going to be.

“Sirius Orion Black!” you called out as you barged into his dorm room.

His head whipped around, eyes wide in shock. “It was Remus’s idea!” he yelled.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Huh?”

“You’re gonna ask why James thinks you’re sick right? It was Remus’s idea, I just wanted to punch him,” He said, raising his hands up in defense.

“What? No, that’s not why I’m here,” you replied, climbing up onto his bed, sitting in front of him.

“It’s not?”

You shook your head. He had papers and books sprawled out around him. You realized he was catching up on school work, considering he’d missed all the evening classes yesterday. You felt bad, he had sat there comforting you, as you cried over another boy, while he was in love with you. 

“I’m thinking you and I should ditch all the classes on the 14th,” You said, playing with the sleeve of your - his sweater. You slipped it off, handing it back to him, ignoring that the feeling of slight comfort which had helped you fall asleep last night was now gone.

He shook his head, “Looks good on you,” he told you, pushing your hand away. You gladly put it back on, the cinnamon smell wrapping around you again. Maybe you weren’t being oblivious to just Sirius’s feelings.

“Anyways, what do you mean?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean we should go to Hogsmeade,” you shrugged. You didn’t know how to say it.

“We can’t? We don’t have dates,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. 

Were his eyes always so mesmerizing?

“Yeah I know.” You swallowed, your throat going dry. The feeling in your chest doubled, it was like drowning, and taking a fresh breath of air, at the same time.

He cocked his head to the side. That motion almost always had you laughing, he looked like a child! “You’re not making any sense n/n” he said, brows furrowed together.

You played with his sweater, looking down at your hands. “I-I’m saying we should go to- you know- Hogsmeade. The tw- The two of us. Together.” You looked back up at him, watching his expressions change.

Confusion to realization, then after a solid minute, “Li-Like a date? Are you asking me to be your date on Valentine’s?” he asked. His eyes were shining now, happiness ghosting his features.

You nodded, and he grinned. The biggest, goofiest grin you’d ever seen. 

“Yes, I am. And hopefully be my boyfriend too. And I don’t want you to think that you’re a second choice or something, it’s just, I’ve been so blind, to your feelings, a-and mine and I-”

You were cut off, Sirius leaning over all his books, hands cupping your cheeks, as his lips landed on yours.

You froze for a second, before you responded, kissing back with as much passion and force. 

When he pulled away, he was still grinning. “I don’t care. I get to call you mine now yeah? And I know you well enough to know that it’s not just to get James back or something.”

You smiled, nodding. He took your hands in his, your heart racing. Who knew even he could make you feel like this? Actually, no. With James it’d been pain, mixed with love. But here it was joy, a pure bliss that took you over from head to toe. “I’m going to go fill out that form right now, and make this official,” he pulled you close, pecking your lips once, before running out of the room. You laughed, your cheeks a bright red.

Who would have thought?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feb 14th - Valentine’s Day

For the past week James couldn’t decide on an emotion. He was happy that Lily had finally decided to give him a chance. However, every time he saw you and Sirius, a weird feeling crept up into his chest.

He’d felt it before with Lily.

Jealousy.

And it made no sense, because why was he jealous? He should be happy for you.

But he knew why.

You would officially never be his. 

Sure, he was pining over Lily. He was in love with her. But he couldn’t deny the feelings he had for you, that he’d harbored all these years.

So as he watched you and Sirius dancing around and giggling, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d lost something.

And while finally being able to call Lily his made him feel amazing, the thought that you were no longer his, felt like a stab in the heart.

“It was always him wasn’t it?” He mumbled to himself as Lily went to speak with Marlene and Dorcas. 

“No mate, it wasn’t,” he heard Remus laugh next to him.

“Dammit the hypocrisy is real!” he said, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about?” James asked, still watching you as Sirius picked you up, spinning you around.

“It was always you. Poor Sirius bared the full force of it all, just to make her happy. You ran behind Lily for 6 years, Y/N ran behind you for 3 and Sirius ran behind her for 2. You know she used to say the same thing about you? That it was always going to be Lily?” Remus asked, turning to James.

James felt like he’d been slapped. “What?”

Remus shook his head again, “Oh Merlin, I can’t take this anymore.” And promptly walked off.  

James stood there, feeling terrible, as the events of the past two weeks caught up with him. He’d been so invested in Lily, he hadn’t even realized that you were trying to ask him out. 

So as he stood there, his own date not far from him, James wished he’d paid a little more attention to you. And though deep in his heart, he knew that you and Sirius and him and Lily, was the pairing that was meant to be, he couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened, had he not been so invested in someone who took forever to be his, when you were right there all along.

[jellogram]

I want to talk about the Rosetta Stone for a second:

This chunk of rock is the reason that anyone today can read Egyptian hieroglyphics. It's an incredible artifact (which is unfortunately in the British Museum, but I'm getting to that) because it allowed us, for the first time, to go back in time and actually hear from the people we had studied so much about. It allows us to look at pictures inscribed thousands of years ago and know what the carver meant by them. There's a reason it became an iconic piece of rock.

But my main point here is how much we love this rock. In one of the most impressive archaeological collections in the world, assembled through centuries of violence and thievery and racism, the crowning jewel of the museum is this rock. It's the banner image on their collection page of their website.

Isn't that interesting? This rock is special because of the way it connected cultures and allowed us to gain new understanding for people from another time and place. It's incredibly human, in the best possible way, that one of the world's most prized possessions is a tool that reached through millennia and brought us someone else's thoughts and words. It's wonderful that we are a species who places so much value in that.

But it's in the British Museum. An institution which offers a thorough summary of one country's attempt at world domination, at exercising their culture's own superiority over every other. At their disinterest in treating others like people.

It's not entirely known how the stone even came into British hands. The French discovered it. How it ended up in England's pocket was something that happened in hushed voices, between two world powers that hated each other but were united in their shared disrespect for Egypt's rights as a country.

But the museum today doesn't seem to see the hypocrisy in any of this. They marvel, and expect us to marvel, at this artifact for its ability to connect us with ancient Egyptians. Meanwhile, the perfectly functional and safe museums in Egypt today don't get to display this stone. The tool that opened up study of their own history was stolen from them. The exhibit might as well be a neon sign, declaring that Britain cares more for ancient Egyptians than modern ones.

So there it remains, at the British Museum. A testament to both human connection and human violence. I think if I wanted aliens to understand human history, the Rosetta Stone might be a good place to start.

[pedropascallme]

Thank You, Mr Miller

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: "'So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?' You goaded him. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), age gap (reader is 20-22 age range, Joel is mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), kinda brattammer!Joel? fingering, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, degradation, praise, little bit of cum play, Joel is talky when he's horny, no outbreak, if I missed anything else please let me know!

AN: Here it is...the moment you have all been waiting for...the long awaited part 2 of Yes, Mr Miller!! I hope you all enjoy <3

You woke up with your blankets pooled around your ankles. The heat from the fabric wrapped around you made your feet feel heavy under the sun shining in through your window.

You felt simultaneously drunk and deliciously sober; the daze and amazement at the events of last night washed away to reveal the underlying satisfaction of having finally gotten what you’d yearned for so deeply for so long.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, it finally registered to you how late you’d slept in; your parents had left for the day, for work and their respective errands, leaving you to sleep the day away despite more pressing matters. Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Still seeing you today?

Joel’s name lit up the screen and you felt yourself kick your feet, hearing the text in his voice, southern drawl and all. The thrill you’d experienced the night before hadn’t subsided, and the thought of being alone with him again, so intimate and passionate, made you bite your lip as you typed out your response.

Yeah. Gimme an hour.

~~~

The path to the Miller household felt longer today. Maybe it was the bubbling combination of nerves and excitement that you felt low in your stomach, but you kicked at the stones on the path, picking lint off of your skirt and trying not to let your hair fall victim to the humidity.

You hesitated before knocking on the door, unsure of whether or not you should change such a miniscule habit under even these circumstances.

You knocked anyway.

Joel answered, wearing a t-shirt that hugged his arms and abdomen, allowing you to admire his wide frame and the small scars near his elbows.

“Think we’re a little past knockin,’ darlin.’” He smiled down at you, and you flashed a shy smile that didn’t fool him for a second.

“Just wanted to be polite.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Joel licked his lips, “c’mon in.”

You followed him through the living room before stopping him at the foot of the stairs.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“With Tommy. Been buggin’ me to see him—knows he’ll do whatever she wants him to.” He scoffed.

“You do whatever she wants you to.” You grinned at his hypocrisy.

“Within reason.” Joel smirked.

“So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?” You goaded him, swatting at his chest. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb.

“F’I recall correctly, you loved bein’ treated like a whore.” Joel brought your hand to his lips, kissing each individual finger before letting it drop at your side.

“W—I might have…” You felt shy again, peeking up at him from under your eyelashes to watch the way his eyes darkened. “I think you liked it more.” You smiled, smug, but still carefully monitoring his reactions. Joel closed the space between you; your eyes came up just below his chin, and when he leaned down you could feel his breath on your face, his nose a hair’s width from your own.  

“I think you’re mighty confident for someone I had beggin’ for more less than twenty-four hours ago.” His arms wrapped around your waist, but he didn’t move to kiss you, letting his words hang in the air.

“Mr. Miller…” You whispered, unable to make more than a peep with strong arms at your side and fierce eyes boring into you. Your hands came up to steady yourself on his forearms.

“Go on, darlin’,” he remained the same stoic, hard to read man you had come to admire, but you could see the anticipation building in him; with his lips parted slightly you could see his tongue trace over his teeth, wanting, waiting. “Beg.”

“Want you…” You tilted your chin up, hoping he would finally give you a taste of what you craved, “need you. Please.”

Joel finally gave in, pressing his mouth to yours in a heated exchange of spit and teeth; you could taste the smell of the cologne he wore and the mint of his toothpaste, and something that was so purely Joel. Your arms came to perch on his shoulders, lifting yourself up enough to match the fervor with which he was kissing you, letting your tongue dance across his lips and in turn letting his own lick into your mouth. In the light of day, there was something so much more profound about exploring each other—it felt less secretive, less taboo, and much more affectionate than the moments you had shared in the car last night. You moaned into his mouth, letting him capture and savor the sounds you made for him.

“Good girl,” Joel hesitantly broke away from you, your heavy breath matching his, “jump up for me, sweetheart.” You felt large hands grab the meat of your thighs, and you squealed as he hoisted you up to rest your legs around his waist, “Doin’ this right. Takin’ you to bed.”

You hummed, kissing his neck while he maneuvered up the stairs, feeling a small swat on your thigh when the love bites you gave him nearly made him miss a step.

You didn’t realize that you had made it into the bedroom, too busy sucking at the exposed skin he had foolishly granted you access to. It wasn’t until he dropped you onto the mattress that you realized he had stopped moving.

“Try’na kill me?” He huffed, “kissin’ me like that while I’m walkin’ up those crooked ass stairs?”

You scooted up the bed towards the headboard. “Shouldn’t’ve picked me up if you didn’t want my kisses, Mr. Miller.” You shrugged, enjoying the way his nostrils flared when you teased him. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down the mattress, and you yelped at the sudden movement. Joel spread your legs and leaned over you.

“When did you become such a fuckin’ brat?” He pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare, braless chest. He let out a dry laugh, “Knew you were getting’ fucked today, didn’t even dress yourself properly.” The words were muttered, mostly for his ears as appreciation for the easy access you were granting him. He dipped his head down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his hand grabbing at the other one.

“Oh—! Yes, yes…” You felt his teeth brush against the pebbled flesh before his tongue swept over it in a soothing circular motion. The hand on your other breast pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before releasing it to engulf your entire breast and squeeze.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Joel moaned into your flesh, sucking hard on your nipple and making your back arch into him, the feeling of his mouth on your chest had pleasure pooling in your lower stomach. “Dreamed about these pretty fuckin’ tits.” He resumed his movements, switching sides to pay more attention to the breast he’d been squeezing.

“Yours,” you combed your fingers through his hair, “all yours.” You moaned when he began to suck bruises onto the plush skin of your breasts, pulling at his hair gently in appreciation.

“That’s right, honey,” he came up to kiss your neck, “who do you belong to?” His hand came down to the hem of your skirt, flicking it up to allow his fingers to trail over your ruined, dainty cotton underwear. “Who’s this pretty li’l pussy belong to?”

“You—fuck—you! Please, you Mr. Miller. Please, please, please.” Your cries became repetitive when you felt his fingers press carefully against your clit, his calloused skin drinking in the moisture that seeped through your thin panties.

“I know, sweetheart.” He fell to his knees in front of you, pushing your skirt up your hips and out of his way to let him worship you properly; his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear, and you grabbed limply at his wrist to spur him on. He all but ripped the fabric off of you, letting it dangle loosely around your ankle before you kicked it off and across the room, bringing your legs to his shoulders. Joel brought his face to your core, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent.

He brought two fingers up to pull you open wider for him to see. “So pretty, darlin’,” his fingers left your lips, trailing up and down your inner thigh before you felt the whisper of a touch on your entrance. “So easy to get you wet, princess. Eager li’l whore.” You squirmed, sighing softly at his words and trying to get what you needed.

Clearly eager in his own right, Joel’s tongue came down to lap up the juices pooling over your slit; you felt the muscle trail up to your clit and your legs folded and tightened around his neck, thighs squeezing his head in reaction to the sudden friction. Joel chuckled, arms wrapping around your legs to pry you open and allow himself space to bury his face into your cunt. You felt him suck on your clit, mouth closed around it, while his tongue came down to swipe over it. The back and forth combined with the pressure his lips sucked over you made your head swim, and you reached down to grip at his curls. He released you, spreading his tongue over your hole once more to explore the flavors you gave him. You felt him push into you, and you whimpered at the small but pleasant intrusion. The scruff of his beard rubbed into your thighs while he fucked you with his tongue, his nose occasionally bumping your clit as he tasted you.

“More…” You whined, one hand buried in Joel’s hair while the other pawed at your breast.

“Greedy li’l thing,” Joel kissed your clit softly before turning to place open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. “Tell me what you need, darlin’. More what?” His words were gentle despite the underlying need that laced them.

“You—anything...just want more.” Your words sounded out from your blissed-out haze, and Joel relished the opportunity to see you this way.

“Gonna be good for me? Keep your legs spread if I give you my fingers?” You nodded furiously, making a pathetic show of your obedience by widening your stance around his shoulders. Joel grinned, placing two fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” You coated them, and when he pulled them out a thin strand of saliva kept your mouth connected to them. Joel dipped his hand down to your cunt with the other still holding your thigh to the side, pushing both fingers into you and scissoring them slowly before drawing them in and out. Gasps escaped your throat when he curved them, his mouth returning to your clit while he stroked your most sensitive spot.

“Please, please, please—” You couldn’t think straight, so intently focused on the way his tongue felt against you, the rhythm of his fingers matching your steadily increasing heartbeat.

“Please what, darlin’?” Joel taunted you, speeding up the pace at which his fingers pumped in and out of your heat, “You wanna cum for me? Be a good girl like you were last night?”

Moans fell freely from your mouth, warmth building in your abdomen and spreading to the tips of your fingers. “Please, Mr. Miller…” You begged, fisting his hair in a subconscious attempt to lessen the overwhelming pleasure despite how badly you wanted it to continue.

Joel growled against you, his fingers curling more fervently. “Go on, then. Cum.”

You didn’t have to be told twice; your legs flexed then went limp around his neck, back arching into his hand and mouth, riding out the high he had gifted you.

“Fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” Joel praised, slipping his fingers out of you and moving down from your clit to lick the juices dripping from your entrance. “Taste so good, honey.”

Your skirt rested on your stomach, shirt still pulled over your chest, and you felt so utterly content with the feeling of having Joel whisper sweet nothings to you from between your thighs. You feathered your fingers through his hair, silently urging him to come up, letting out a small whimper when he licked small stripes over your clit before coming up to face you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel pecked kisses on your face, “not actin’ so tough now that you got the attention you needed.”

You giggled quietly, pulling him down for a kiss and scratching shapes over his back, still full of want even after he’d made you cum on his tongue. Your hips bucked up lightly against him.

 “Pretty li’l whore needs more?” Joel groaned, pushing his growing erection into your thigh, and you whined. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

Your palms fell flat on his back, and you pulled him in tight against you, tilting your head to whisper your wishes in his ear. “Want your cock, Mr. Miller.”

It was like watching a man possessed; Joel stood, leering over you as he pulled off his shirt, undoing his fly in one swift motion. He pulled you towards him, letting you sit up so that he could strip you of your own clothing. You shimmied out of your skirt before lifting your arms up to let him take your shirt off. He threw it to the side, and your hands drifted over the bulge in his jeans. You looked up at him, batting your lashes.

“Christ, you’ll kill me.” Joel took hold of your hands, throwing them behind you and encouraging you to lie back down. His hands kneaded your thighs, pulling them open again so that he could situate himself between them. You watched him free his cock from the confines of the denim, your lips parting and mouth watering.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about Joel’s cock before; it was the subject of all your fantasies. But now, watching him stroke himself above you, you felt unbridled desperation take hold of you. His hand wrapped around the base of his thick length, tip flushed red and veins running down the sides—you had never wanted anything more in your life.

You wiggled your hips, the pitiful noises you made doing nothing to encourage him to fuck you, only making him laugh over you.

“Told you to use your words,” Joel leaned over you, hand wrapping around your cheeks to certify that your focus was on him, “or do you just like bein’ difficult?”

You hummed at the way he spoke, thick accent coating the filth he said in sweet molasses. You blinked at him in faux innocence, “Can I have your cock?”

“Where are your manners, girl?”

“Please, Mr. Miller,” you spoke slowly, purposefully giving your voice a sultry edge, “can I have your cock?”

Joel straightened, taking his cock and running it through your folds, letting you coat him in your cum. “That’s what you want, sweetheart?” You felt him press his tip to your entrance, “Need this young cunt nice and full of my cock?”

Your restraint faltered, now purely focused on getting what you needed, and you couldn’t help the whimpers you let out, or the way your once teasing words turned into sobs of “please, please, please!”

Joel pushed his length into you, letting you acclimate to the feeling inch by inch; his brow furrowed, eyes closed, and your mouth fell open at the way he speared you so perfectly. “Goddamn, so fuckin’ tight f’me,” Joel groaned, bottoming out. His dominance faded slightly when he brushed the hair out of your face, “Feel good?”

“So full…” You breathed out, your hand falling flat against Joel’s lower stomach.

“S’what you wanted, ain’t it?” Joel bent himself forward, pressing his cock into you further, and you moaned out. “Wanted to get filled nice ‘nd deep?” There was that authority.

You nodded, nose brushing against his. “Fuck me—please fuck me.” You mewled, now accustomed to the stretch and longing to feel him wreck you. “Want you to break me, Mr. Miller.”

Joel let out an ungodly growl, immediately beginning to thrust in and out of you. “Fuckin’ slut—this what you needed? Big fuckin’ cock stretching this pussy out?” He lifted your legs over his shoulders, the angle lifting your bottom half off the bed and giving him more space to pound into you. “Pretty young thing doesn’t know what to do with this kind of attention, huh?”

His taunts had a shred of truth to them; your tongue lolled out from your mouth, spit drifting down over your cheek, and your eyes, though hooded, couldn’t hide how they rolled back with every deep push of his cock. You whined, trying to string together a sentence as best you could, but all you could manage was a continuous chant of “yes, yes, yes.”

“So pretty when you’re getting’ fucked,” Joel rambled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself when your pussy squeezed him tight, “you like this, princess? Like lettin’ a man twice your age use your cunt like this?”

You moaned, arching your back in wordless approval. Joel wasn’t satisfied with this, pulling out and smacking his cock against your clit.

“Asked you a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You cried out for him. “Yes! Yes, I fucking love it—please, I’m sorry, keep going!”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” Joel reached around you, gently maneuvering you onto your stomach. “Put your knees up for me, baby.” You obliged, tucking your knees under yourself and keeping your back arched for him. He slid back into you, the head of his cock nestled perfectly against your g-spot in this position. You felt hands pull the hair off your neck, and Joel came closer to whisper in your ear, “Can I fuck you like this, darlin’?”

You hummed an affirmative, “Yes, please,” and pushed yourself back against him, letting the curve of your ass rest against his hips. Joel grabbed at the skin of your hips, squeezing at the soft flesh and watching the way your ass bounced against him.

“Fuck—yeah, like that, honey, that’s right. Fuck yourself on my cock.” You sped up, eager to impress Joel with your servility and delighting in the way you could feel every inch and vein of his thick cock with every movement you made. You rested your head on the mattress, arms spread out above you, and you could hear Joel’s deep moans of approval and praise.

“So perfect for me, s’so good.” His head fell back and his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. He began to guide your hips at a faster pace; big hands holding your waist, pulling you flush against him. He watched with dark eyes the way you squirmed on him during an especially deep thrust, the way your fingers grasped at whatever they could find and your moans got higher in pitch when he fucked into your sweet spot.

“Feels so fucking good, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled into the bedsheets, voice uneven with the way your body bounced with every push of his hips, “you feel so good.”

“Needy girl, you feel good?” Joel cooed, “you gonna cum for me again? Let me feel you soak my cock?” He sped up his movements, his fingers moving down your body to apply pressure to your sensitive clit. Your toes curled, eyes watering at the overwhelming enjoyment that coursed through you; you lost any remaining control you had, legs uncurling beneath you, mouth producing whimpered gibberish. Joel held your now straight legs, using them as leverage to force himself deeper into your cunt. “My good girl, there you go. Cum for me, darlin’, lemme feel you squeeze me nice ‘nd tight. Show me again how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum for Mr. Miller.”

You felt your legs tremble, eyes shut tight and pathetic, wanton moans escaping you. His fingers continued to massage your clit and with one last thrust of his cock you felt yourself let go completely. You screamed out cries of his name, whole body shaking around him as he continued to fuck you through the intensity of your climax.  

“Fuck—fuck, so good—perfect fuckin’ girl.” Joel groaned, leaning forward to press his chest into your back, each thrust sloppier than the last as he approached his own release. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart—tell me what you want.” He was practically begging, so close to his high, awaiting your command.

“Cum in me,” you spoke barely above a whisper, “please cum in me, Mr. Miller—need it, please.” Your legs still trembled from the aftershock of your orgasm, the light, airy feeling clouding your mind, coming down to earth only to provide necessary details; “On the pill.”

Joel kissed your neck from his perch behind you, thrusts messy and cock throbbing. “Yeah? Gonna let me cum inside you, princess? Fill this pussy up, fuckin’ mark you?” He got faster, sloppier still, and you whined in encouragement. He pushed himself deep into you, and you felt his cock stir when he let out a low groan of your name, coating your walls with his spend, rocking his hips against you to keep his load deep.

He slumped over you, breathing hard. You reached a hand up to pull gently on his hair. “Heavy.” He smiled through his gulps of air, slipping his cock out of you with a hiss, rolling off of you and pulling you against his side. Your hand cupped his cheek while his own hand roamed the side of your body.

“Was that—do you feel good, darlin’? Wasn’t too rough, was I?” His other hand came up to stroke your hair, eyes searching you for signs of hurt or regret.

“Perfect,” you kissed his chest, “felt perfect.” You felt his cum dripping out of you, thighs coated with the sticky moisture.

“Yeah?” Joel smirked, nosing the top of your head. He removed his hand from your hair, dipping down between your legs and pushing a finger into you to feel the slick mess you'd both made. “Then what do you say?” His hand came up to your face.

You cuddled closer to him, letting the heat and sweat from his body sink into yours before wrapping your lips around his offered finger and tasting the milky combination of your cum and his. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

[contemplatingoutlander]

How to cover an abnormal presidential race

Could the media coverage adhere closer to reality? Hard questions must be asked.

Jennifer Rubin offers a much needed road map as to how journalists should be covering an election between a politician who upholds democratic values (Biden) vs. a politician who is determined to undermine the Constitution and create a dictatorship (Trump). I wish mainstream journalists would follow her advice. Below are some excerpts, but you can use the gift🎁link to read the entire article.

The United States has never had an election in which: a felon runs for president on a major party ticket; a presidential candidate lays out a detailed plan for authoritarian rule; an entire party gaslights the public (e.g., claiming the president was behind their candidate’s state prosecution; pretending they won the last election); and, prominent leaders of one party signal they will not accept an adverse outcome in the next election. Yet, the coverage of the 2024 campaign is remarkably anodyne, if not oblivious, to the unprecedented nature of this election and its implications. [...] How could the coverage stick more closely to reality? Obsession with early polling that inevitably becomes meaningless after big events such as Trump’s conviction (stuff happens!) and that cannot yet gauge who is likely to vote should go by the wayside — or at least come with caveats and not drive coverage. What would be informative: A minute or two of unedited video showing Trump’s rambling, incoherent and deranged rants. Rather than merely “fact check” the nonsense blizzard, reports can explore the unprecedented nature of his rhetoric, illustrate the deterioration in his thinking and speech, and discuss how an obviously irrational and unhinged leader casts a spell over his devoted following. The media also can refuse to entertain laughable MAGA spin, such as claiming that Trump’s conviction will help him win the election.... When such incidents pop up, informative journalism would examine what else MAGA forces lie about (e.g., crowd size) and how authoritarians depend on creating a false aura of invincibility. When supposedly normal Republican officials parrot Trump’s obvious falsehoods and baseless accusations, interviewers must come prepared to debunk them. Republicans cannot be allowed to slide past hard questions about their election denial, false data points, baseless attacks on the courts and hypocrisy (the law and order party?). Treating Republicans as innocent bystanders in the democracy train wreck distorts reality. And instead of endless harping on President Biden’s age, some honest comparison between the disjointed, frightful interview responses from Trump and the detailed, policy-laden answers from Biden in Time magazine’s two interviews might illuminate the obvious disparity in acuity....There is simply no comparison between Biden, who talks in detail about policy, and Trump, who cannot get through a Newsmax(!) interview without sounding nuts. Likewise, treating Hunter Biden’s case (having nothing to do with the president) as though it were as significant as Trump’s criminal conviction betrays a lack of perspective and a hunger for clicks. Insisting this poses a problem or embarrassment for Biden amounts to amplifying MAGA spin. Finally, given voters’ misunderstanding of the economy, news outlets should focus on the results of Biden’s policies and the likely effect of his opponent’s shockingly inflationary plan. Focusing on the gap between public opinion and economic reality (to which coverage contributes) unwittingly reveals the media’s own shortcomings in educating voters. [emphasis added]

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Imagining a scene where, before deciding to leave with Color, Color just keeps showing up sometimes wherever Killer in Stage 2 is having “down time” after or before a mission.

And Killer just keeps shooing the guy away, disappearing on him whenever Color looks away. Walking away mid conversation whenever he decides hes done entertaining Color’s little “game.” Ignoring any food or offers of new clothes Color tries to give him—“I don’t eat.” “Your body has to eat sometime.” “I don’t care. And I don’t care about you.”

Color always leaves when hes told to, not wanting to push Killer too far and keep intruding on his time and privacy, but I can picture a scene where Killer’s like, “I know you’re obsessed with me, but I don’t take in strays, firefly. Get lost, before I put out those flames of yours.” And Color raises a brow and glances down at Killer’s feet where a herd of purring stray cats are rubbing against his legs.

And I don’t know, as they grow closer and spend more time together (of course Stage 2 will not recognize any possible genuine connection or emotions, everything he does he rationalizes away as beneficial or just maintaining a resource), Color slowly but surely becomes one of Killer’s “red lines”—his boundary.

A part of Killer starts considering Color as something similar to his, and thus something to keep secret and guarded—same as with his weapons, same as with his room, same as with his mind and his privacy and his business.

Color is one of those topics Killer thinks no one else has the right to know about. Killer even finds himself slowly but surely giving away some bits of his own secrets—Color took a pinky swear to not tell a soul—or a heart. Their moments belong only to them.

Until, of course, Murder rather uncharacteristically makes a provoking comment about something he shouldn’t know and doesn’t have the right to know, and Killer, gets..aggressive. Starts desperately trying to regain control.

Either physically or verbally (or both), he starts viciously tearing into Murder—talking about Papyrus, bringing up Toriel, asking if he enjoyed killing Monster Kid or was he the tormented hero instead? Or perhaps he was just the filthy, dirty brother killer, gleefully and delusionally believing himself a savior. Poor, poor Sans—hes just so ashamed.

But at least he isn’t Killer. Yes he murdered everyone too and sometimes even enjoyed it, but it was for a good reason! He feels ashamed, he feels guilty, as if it will wash the sins off his back.

Of course Murder has to get his own licks in—neither leave this confrontation well put together. Murder mocks Killer for his own hypocrisy. Pointing out how hes spent all this time convincing Murder and Horror to just give up and stop fighting, that there’s no point hoping for change or escape—actively dragging Murder back kicking and screaming—only it seems Nightmare’s little pet is considering leaving!

All because of some petty emotions. All because some guy he barely knows smiled at him.

Murder wonders what Nightmare would think, and Killer lunges at him, and that’s when they get physical. Ultimately Nightmare has to break them up because they’re probably fighting with intent to kill, because Killer is unusually, uncharacteristically angry. Almost Stage 3 levels of angry, with his SOUL starting to ‘glitch’ over his chest.

Nightmare can tell that Murder somehow did or said something to make Killer feel genuinely cornered or threatened, but Horror steps in—offering a cover story. Nightmare knows he’s lying, but possibly finds the attempts to hide things from him in his own home amusing.

So nonetheless, he allows it to slide for now—telling Horror to take Murder to the infirmary, and commanding Killer to “follow.” It’s the typical scene where Killer obeys, following immediately, likely glares at and shoulder checks Murder on the way past, grinning when Murder stumbles into Horror.

(Maybe there’s even a little talk between Horror and Murder in the infirmary, because Murder doesn’t usually go out of his way to provoke Killer so blatantly.

He usually just avoids Killer, wary of him. And Murder, well, he just wanted the other “monster” to feel even a smidge of what Killer makes him feel. It won’t matter, it won’t change anything, but it felt good.)

Killer likely confronts Murder is his own room again—ambushing him as soon as the door closes, knife to his throat—wanting Murder to feel unsafe in a familiar place, a place that’s supposed to be his only.

Killer is under orders by Nightmare to not kill any of others unless told to, everyone knows that. Killer says he’s all too willing to demonstrate how well he can work around that, and unless Murder wants to be an example, he’ll back off.

Murder comments that he’s oddly invested in this person for someone who claims to be incapable of emotions. He must really care about that guy.

Killer stares for a few moments, unblinking. Something glitters in his right eye socket, faint and sputtering, before dying out as his signature empty grin overtakes his features. His SOUL gradually starts to calm down, spinning slowly as it reforms back into its target shape, still beating like a frantic human heartbeat. More red than white.

He itches to snap the prey’s neck, make sure it stays silent forever. Instead, he slams Murder’s head back against the bedroom door with a loud thud, letting the skeleton fall to the floor in stunned, dazed silence.

“I don’t.” Is all he says, dead and matter of fact, as he steps over his coworker’s crumbled form, opens the door, and casually walks right out.

He’s back to normal by the morning, greeting Horror and Murder with that same grin and teasing remarks; rambling about something or another, as if it all never happened.

But the message is all too clear: Color is off limits.

[adh-james-version]

Why have I been seeing so much Regulus, Barty, Evan, and Jegulus hate? And hate on every James ship that ISNT jily?

To all the older people in the fandom that are hating on the new ships, and characterization: This is NOT the same fandom it was 10 or so years ago!!

#1 - Fandoms evolve!

Everything you don’t like isn’t racist, everything you don’t like isn’t facsist, everything you don’t like isn’t fetishizing, everything you don’t like isn’t misogynistic, everything you don’t like isn’t destroying the fandom, shipping James with someone else isn’t anti-Lily, personality head cannons that don’t perfectly align with yours aren’t gonna bring the fandom to its knees.

Every fandom changes as people leave, join, create, write, draw, etc. So when I started seeing people hate so extremely on certain characters, ships, and headcanons, to the point that they are willing to tell someone to off themselves and/or call people stupid/racist/facsist ect. It took me by surprise because not likening something and talking about it or keeping it to yourself is different than telling someone they are misogynistic for liking a mlm James ship over Jily.

#2 - Hypocrisy Regarding Deatheaters

One thing that I see a lot of is people hating on is the fact that canonical deatheaters like Regulus, Evan, and Barty got revamped or “babygirled”. My first point here is that the same people who believe that are also Pro-Snape. While there is nothing wrong with being Pro-Snape, you can’t be Pro-Snape but Anti-Regulus. Both of them defected from the death eaters! They both laid down their lives to try and help! Even if the impact wasn’t the same the want to be on the right side was. You can definitely not like the personality that a lot of the fandom has given him, but you can’t hate him merely on principle without kinda looking like a hypocrite.

Now onto Evan and Barty: yes they were terrible adults and did horrible things, BUT, we don’t know them as school students. That’s why the fandom took them and fleshed them out how they wanted to, they were a virtually blank slate. That’s why many people like the headcanon of them being forced by their families into getting the mark. We don’t know what truly happened so we took some artistic liberties. Again the same sentiment about Snape from earlier can apply: you can’t hate Evan and Barty on principle when in canon (because most people making this argument care religiously about canon) Snape took the dark mark willingly and again canonically we don’t know why Barty and Evan took the mark.

#3 - The Whole Jily Thing

Okay, look. Liking a James ship that’s not Jily, not a big deal. Liking Jily and not liking other James ships, not a big deal. Not liking any of the James ships, not a big deal. Liking some, one, or none of the first two options, not a big deal. Calling someone misogynistic for liking Jegulus or any other James mlm ship, however, is odd. Saying all people fetishize mlm just because they like an mlm James ship over Jily, is odd. That’s the equivalent of someone who ships Jily over an mlm James ship being called homophobic.

This really ties back to points 1 and 2, the fandom evolved and more ships were added. And calling someone a misogynist for not shipping Jily but shipping Jegulus or another mlm ship when in reality they could be the biggest feminist on the planet but just not a Jily shipper.

#4 - Personally

They’re ships, characters, and headcanons that I really don’t like/hate but you don’t see me saying that the ship is going to end the fandom or that it is fetishizing the characters?

For example, I don’t like Snape (as a person, no knock to his his accomplishments) AT ALL, but I don’t think the people who do are racist! I don’t really like the trans ftm Remus headcannon, but I don’t think all the people who do are fetishizing the trans community. I like the Mary x Pandora x Lily ship but I don’t think the people who don’t are anti polyamory!

#5 - Conclusion

Older members of the fandom and people who have been in the fandom a long time really need to calm down a little bit.

And for the people who say things along the lines of “what about canon” and “it can’t severely affect canon”

The EXISTENCE of this fandom goes against canon! You ship wolfstar and nobleflower but you “care about canon”?!?

Okay that’s it.

[in1-nutshell]

I have a really dumb idea for Fearless.  Getaway happens, again.  The crew is trapped on the necroplanet with six hours before the djd comes knocking down the door.  When Megatron goes off to talk to Tarn, Fearless follows because why the fuck not.  Maybe they make their presence known the moment that Megatron offers to exchange himself for everyone elses safety with a loud objection.  Maybe they wait until a fight starts and Megatron gets the shit beat outta him to try and (fail) stop Tarn.  Either way I want the angst to the max.  Tarn taunting Megs for his hypocrisy, from wiping out organic planets by the dozen to practically begging for Tarn not to hurt Fearless.

Side note, not sure how this would fit into the angst but I'm laughing at the idea of Tarn having an almost a one-sided rivalry with Fearless because he went from being Megatron’s favorite student to second to a tiny fleshling.

Instant Angst coming right up!

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless VS Tarn

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, Familial, mention of wounds and some injuries, nothing too graphic, Human reader

MTMTE

Fearless wanted to go on the planetary mission with the Rod Squad.

But Megatron simple said no.

So, they tried asking Magnus, with a report too!

Still no.

They even went to Rodimus to ask to go.

Even he said no!

Fearless already was processing a sick note for the Co-captain when they saw the squad leaving.

They quickly got into their battle suit (similar to Verity’s in Last Stand of the Wrecker’s) and hopped into one of the larger med kits.

Getaway transmission inside the Necrobot’s dome. Getaway: “And now Rodimus what are you going to do? The entire crew on this ship voted mutiny. All you bots will die like pathetic fools along side Megatron. I’ll make sure to say something to Fearless for you.” Rodimus: “I swear if you lay a digit on them—” CLICK! The call had declined. Rodimus looked stressed while Megatron looked like he was going to have a stroke. Everyone who heard suddenly got worried about their little human on the ship. It wasn’t any news about Getaway behaving certain ways around organics, especially after the incident. Megatron clenching his servos. TAP! TAP! One of the larger med kits Swerve had brought in suddenly moved. Swerve: “Oh great! The med kits are possessed now!” The tap opens and Fearless pops their head out. Fearless: “Who was carrying the medkits!? I swear I nearly lost my lunch—what’s everyone looking at? Did someone die?” Megatron looks like he is about to faint. Magnus sure did. Megatron: “WHY ARE YOU HERE!?” Fearless puts their hands up in surrender. Whirl: “Megs I think you need to get your priorities checked. This is great!” Megatron: “And pray tell why having one of the most vulnerable crew members on the ship, well what’s left of the original crew, here in the same place we are going to get slaughtered by the DJD is great!?” Fearless: “…what in the world did I miss…”

Fearless wordlessly as Megatron explained their situation.

By the end of it they swore they were going to kick Getaway’s tin can so far, he would be forever drifting in space.

The small human had never met the DJD in their life.

They heard stories about the group from other bots around the ship, but it was almost like they were too scared to even speak their names.

They tried one time talking to Megatron about them, it earned them a weeklong silent treatment.

To Fearless, they were more bad guys that had made their family miserable and deathly afraid of.

They didn’t truly know what DJD did.

Fearless decided to make themselves a bit useful and tried to help more panicy bots calm down.

Apparently, it helped the bots calm down when they held/petted/cuddled them close, and they were going to bare it for their sakes.

They noticed that some bots were going to need more durable things to hold and fidget with.

Thankfully they spotted a couple of loose bolts inside a bright pink scooter.

Too bad that the scooter started up knocking them out for a bit.

When Fearless eventually comes out of their ‘nap’ they immediately open up the compartment and sees a bunch of blue flowers.

They hop off and see Megatron standing in front of a statue… of himself?

Suddenly a new bot came out of nowhere and transformed in front of Megatron.

They glared at the mysterious mech.

Something was wrong.

Something was definitely wrong…

The human’s eyes nearly popped out of their skull when they heard Megatron address Tarn about surrendering to keep the crew safe.

What was this!?!?

They were still processing what Megatron had said when Tarn started beating him up.

Fearless was ready to see Megatron completely annihilate his metal behind.

They just stared in horror seeing their father figure not even attempting to defend himself.

The tiny human was FURIOUS!

Fearless runs, jumps on Megatron’s chassis, raises their blasters up at the purple Con with fire in their eyes. Fearless: “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Megatron feels his spark stop seeing Fearless on his chassis YELLING at TARN! Tarn was surprised to see a human DEFENDING Megatron. Tarn: “What is this? Oh, I see. You truly have changed Megatron. From making every organic life form quake in your presence, to having to rely on them to fight your battles?” Tarn laughs as he takes a step forward. Fearless readies their blasters. Fearless: “I’m warning you! Stay away from us!” Tarn: “Ha! What is the little organic going to do? I am Tarn! Leader of the Decepticon Justice Division! Megatron’s chosen one!” Fearless: “You sure about that? Cause last time I checked my names on the adoption papers and not yours.” Tarn is in a slight stuttering mess, not expecting to hear that comment. Megatron tries to move his servo but can’t: “Fearless don’t provoke him!” Tarn: “You are a peculiar organic, aren’t you? Sadly, you won’t be remembered.” Fearless glares at Tarn. Fearless: “I’m not going to repeat myself Tarn, but I’ll do it for you so your tiny processor can comprehend. Stay away from us or I WILL—” Tarn: “What are you going to do? Blast me in the face?” Fearless with a determined smile: “Yes.” BLAST! Fearless had indeed blasted Tarn in the face, then proceeded to JUMP on his chassis and started punching and shooting. Tarn was too startled to properly think what was going on as the human started climbing and tearing parts of his armor. Fearless looks behind them and straight at Megatron. They had a desperate look on their face. Fearless: “GO!”

Megatron laid down on the floor for a couple of seconds stunned at what his organic child had just done.

He scrambled up and attempted to get Fearless.

Sadly, Tarn had gotten to his senses and grabbed Fearless harshly.

The leader of the DJD’s armor was dented and some holes sprinkled around.

Fearless had a scowl on their face and thrashed around in his clenched servo.

Tarn just flexed his digits and made Fearless stop and gasped hearing something snap.

That’s not good…

Megatron yelled at him to spar Fearless.

Tarn felt disgusted… and a bit jealous.

How come Megatron cared so much about his puny organic when he had him!?

Tarn sadistically laughed and threw Fearless into his subspace.

Megatron was about to demand Fearless back again when Overlord suddenly descended from the sky and demanded Tarn to hand Megatron over so he could terminate him.

Megatron slipped away with a heavy spark to the dome.

When he returned to the crew, Megatron told them what happened and who had taken Fearless.

Whirl was about to exit the dome at that same second if Cyclonus and Magnus hadn’t tackled him down.

Rodimus did his best to calm the crew, despite the sinking pit in his tank.

Everyone knew the chances Fearless had alone with Tarn.

They were slim to nonexistent.

Meanwhile, Tarn had just arrived with the rest of his group.

He opened his subspace and carelessly tossed the human aside.

Fearless yelped when they landed on one of their legs.

Another snap.

Oh, if Ratchet ever found out about this…

Well good news was that he wasn’t even here… yeah… good news…

Tarn just gave them a simple order to stay put.

He wanted to destroy them in front of Megatron.

No one else was to touch them under his orders.

A silver lining, now all they needed to do was figure out a way to get back to the crew and not die in the process.

Just two things.

While Fearless was starting to worry about the shortness of breath and hot/cold flashes they were feeling, they barely noticed much of the battle happening around them.

It wasn’t until Tarn and most of his group had gone to personally fight that Fearless realize that they had been left in the ‘care’ of the light blue minibot that had been giving them the stink eye since they snapped their leg.

Suddenly the minibot told them that she didn’t see them escape before head to Deathsaurus.

Fealess suddenly realized they had no one guarding them.

They yelped and grunted as they tried getting up.

Thankfully they didn’t need to stand up for too long thanks to a familiar looking felicon racing to them.

Ravage: “Fearless!” Ravage skid to a stop in front of the barely standing human. Fearless managed to give him a tight smile before leaning on him. He smelled them a bit. Ravage: “You’re bleeding.” Fearless: “That’s probably from the broken bone.” Ravage: “What is broken?!” Fearless: “Yeah and I think something in my chest snapped too…” Ravage kneels letting Fearless struggle to get on. He flinches hearing their labored breathing and yelps. Ravage: “This isn’t going to be a smooth ride Fearless. Hold on tight and don’t let go.” Fearless gripping part of his armor: “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Fearless didn’t know what was worse.

Focusing on the pain in their chest and leg or focusing on the battle around them.

They definitely needed to apologize to Ravage for how hard they were clenching his armor.

Most didn’t even take notice of the felicon being used to move the injured human.

Sadly, there was one mech on the battlefield that had taken notice.

Fearless sees the giant shadow dwarfing them and Ravage. All they see is Tarn’s large servo reach for them. Fearless raises one of their arms and starts blasting. Fearless: “GO BACK TO THE PITS WHERE YOU BELONG!” It only slows down Tarn a bit. It wasn’t enough. Tarn slaps hard at Fearless’s smaller body. To Ravage’s horror he sees the smaller body get plunged into the fray, swallowed by the fire and smoke of the battlefield. Ravage: “FEARLESS!” A pair of mechs had just seen the act from the screen. One of them immediately ran out.

Time skip after the battle…

The bots who were well enough to walk started rounded up around Terminus and Megatron.

Megatron was trying to recruit a search party for Fearless.

When Megatron had gone out, it was impossible to find their tiny body amongst the chaos around.

Even right after dealing with the DJD and Rodimus pulling him out of the place, there was still no sign of Fearless.

Hope was dwindling fast.

Megatron: “All right, in 5 minutes we depart.” Skids (yes, he lives): “Count me in.” Rung holds Skids back: “With the low energy you have, I don’t think that’s wise Skids.” Skids: “Fearless is out there, we need every bot on deck.” Whirl hobbling over: “He’s right Eyebrows. My Amica is out there and needs us.” Terminus looking at one of the monitors. Terminus: “Your human is small, correct?” Megatron not looking: “Yes.” Terminus: “And in some form of armor?” Megatron still not looking: “Yes.” Terminus: “They leak a lot of red fluids?” Megatron pauses before looking at the screen. Fearless was INSIDE the dome and staggering to the door. Megatron: “Sweet Solus Prime!” Megatron sprints to the door faster than he ever had in his life.

No one knows how Fearless got this far.

Ratchet tells them that it shouldn’t even be possible for them to move with the amount of blood loss and broken bones.

But he wasn’t complaining.

No one is.

Ratchet doesn’t leave Fearless’s side for a couple of hours.

Ratchet stands up with Fearless, bandaged up and limp. Ratchet: “I need someone to hold Fearless, very still, for a while.” Megatron: “I’ll do it.” Ratchet: “No offense Megatron, but you’re shaking like a new recruit. Any harsh movement is not what they need right now.” Whirl hobbles over and opens his cockpit. Carefully he reclines the seat and pulls out one of Fearless’s blankets from his subspace. Whirl: “I’ll take them Doc. I’ll even sit down in the corner.” Ratchet hesitates, but the determined look in Whirl’s optic finally made him gently lay Fearless inside. As soon as Ratchet finished putting Fearless down, Megatron came up and carefully tucked them in. Fearless slightly snuggles closer to the blanket. Terminus peaks over Megatron’s shoulder. Terminus: “They mean that much to you?” Megatron watches Whirl carefully hobble to a corner and sat down. He didn’t miss the Ex-Wrecker carefully adjust their blanket. Megatron: “Yes, yes they do.”

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hii! I love your writing. 🙌🏻 May I have a sub! Larissa dom! tall! Reader request where they have an argument in Larissa’s office about something but they end up having a heated..🫢. Larissa tries to take the lead and act tough, but eventually fails because Reader overpowers her, but actually Larissa secretly enjoys it. I hope it’s not too much, it’s alright if you’re not doing it, don’t feel pressured. :))) have a nice day!

I Don’t Go Down Easy ~Sub!Mommy!Larissa Weems xFem Dom!Daddy!Reader

Summary— Reader and Larissa get into a heated argument. Reader suspects that Larissa’s a little pent up, so she takes the lead… But Larissa isn’t going down without a fight. Anon Response— Hey Heyy @misswittylistyc !! Thank you for the request! I love this idea so much. Sub!Larissa could always use more content… Hope you Enjoy! Have a nice day as well!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, eating out, implied smut, kissing, marking, dom/sub relationships, fights for dominance, mommy kink, daddy kink, semi-public sex, implied future smut, swearing, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Im ridiculous…?? Larissa, you never take care of yourself!!” You exclaimed with a jarring tone, throwing your arms up flamboyantly, letting them land square on your hips.

Larissa huffed, as she paced the room, her face screwed in a distasteful look.

“Oh please…!! You barely get 6 hours of sleep a night—!” She sneered back.

You two had been at it for at least twenty minutes. Anyone and everyone in the near vicinity of the halls or rooms close to Larissa’s office had vacated. Your heated argument was seaping through you two and the walls of Nevermore.

And it had all started because you had come into Larissa’s office and found her working still far too late…

You gritted your teeth and let groaned in frustration, fisting your hand together, so much so so that your knuckles were white.

“God you’re incorrigible!! You can’t even see your own hypocrisy—!” You yelled.

“Well maybe I would if you weren’t being such a dick about it?!!!” Larissa shrieked.

This made you stop in your tracks. You unclenched your fists as your eyes widened. You realized how harsh you’d been...

Because Larissa rarely swore… Really the only time was when you two were intimate. Never anywhere else… So her addition of the curse in her verbiage made you rethink the whole situation…

Larissa took your silent response as even more of an insult. She had now wandered towards the door, so that you were in the middle of the room, in between her and her desk. Larissa stood tall and looked down at you, trying her hardest to act intimidating. She craned over you.

“So that’s what yore going to do…?? Go silent on me?!” Larissa spat in a mocking and dominating tone.

But this time, her words sparked a different fire in you. Instead of anger, lust was bursting through your veins, causing you to smirk and tilt your head upward at the tall principal.

Larissa looked a little confused at your reaction, quirking her brows and wondering what your game was.

“What..??” She spat yet again.

You gave the woman a small, mocking pout, clasping your hands together behind your back, and slowly starting to stalk towards the blonde.

“Is someone pent up…??” You taunted the woman.

This made Larissa scoff and roll her eyes. Yet at the same time, she started to back up as you approached her.

“What? No, that’s absolutely ridiculous!” Larissa squeaked, trying to sound intimidating but desperately failing.

You backed the tall blonde up all the way against her office door, when she then heard the click of you locking the door, wearing a grin the entire time. Larissa’s breath hitched. You were flush against the woman. Your closeness made Larissa gulp and blush lightly.

But just as you thought she was given in, a new gust of confidence took the blonde principal over. She suddenly lengthened herself and towered over you, even though she was the one trapped in between you and the office door.

“You think this is going to work…?? What are you going to…?? Seduce me…?” Larissa jeered.

You said nothing, staring up at the woman and looking her directly in the eye, not faltering. You simply dropped to your knees and began to roll up her dress.

Larissa went silent and her breath was bated as she watched you on your knees, rolling up her dress, removing her knickers, and spreading her legs for access. When you finally got to the woman’s glistening cunt, you looked up at her with a Cheshire Cat like grin, before leaning forward and licking her entire cunt from bottom to top in one fell swoop.

Larissa threw her head back and waves of pleasure hit her like a brick. Her legs immediately threatened to buckle, but she was quick to widen her arms and hold onto the wall to keep herself from collapsing.

Once you had pulled away and Larissa had come back to reality, her eyes met your gaze and they flashed with challenge.

“Is this your way of apologizing…? You gonna eat mommy out…?” Larissa taunted.

You shook your head with a chuckle, ignoring her taunts, because you knew she would be putty in your hands in about five seconds.

“Keep your eyes on mine…” you growled in your sultry, lustful tone that always sent Larissa into a frenzy.

Larissa’s eyes widened and she bit her lip. She was about to challenge you again, but then your tongue slid its way into her fluttering cunt and the woman was a goner.

Her legs began to bend and threatened to buckle, so you were swift to place your hands on each of her thighs to keep her propped up. Larissa’s hands were still outstretched against the walls and clinging on tight, as she let out her first desperate groan of the night.

You began to pick up the pace and really started to fuck the blonde’s cunt as like you knew would destroy her… As your tongue took turns lapping away at her folds and fucking her hole, your brought your thumb up to her clit and put tight circular pressure on her bundle of nerves.

“Ohhh f-fuck Y/N…” Larissa whimpered with a groan at the end, tilting her head back and screwing her eyes shut tight.

You quickly pulled away, stopping all administrations with a smirk. Larissa’s head shot back and her shocked gaze furiously found yours. As she saw your smirk, she realized you had her right where you wanted her.

“I said…” you growled, licking a stripe off her cunt, making Larissa’s knees wobble and her lip tremble, before counting, “Keep your gaze on mine…”

“Sorry yes Daddy…”

Larissa gulped and she immediately nodded vigorously. You chuckled and nodded in response, burying your face in her cunt once more, quickly returning to your destructive pace.

As Larissa quickly approached her high, all the while you stared her down with a wicked grin, one of the blonde’s hands jolted to your hair, pushing your head closer to her cunt as her hips grinded against your face. You let this act slip, because of how desperately gone the woman was by now.

You, thank fuck, let Larissa cum when she got to the edge, riding out her high as she came hard. Larissa was panting and by the end of her climax, her legs did in deed gone out on her, so she fell to the floor still trapped between you and the door.

You moved away from her cunt, now at eye level with the fucked out woman. You smirked and leaned in, pressing your cum splattered lips against Larissa’s. Larissa groaned as she happily licked all of her cum off your lips and from your mouth, her hands lunging forward to pull you impossibly closer.

The kiss was bruising, dizzying, but neither of you wanted to pull away. Alas, you both eventually needed to breath, so you had to detach momentarily, also giving Larissa some time to catch her breath.

“Poor mommy’s out of breath, just from Daddy’s tongue, huh…?” You teased the woman lightly.

“Shut up…” Larissa grumbled, crossing her arms defensively, “Didn’t enjoy it that much…”

Now this made you flat out laugh out loud.

“Ha!” You laughed with a smile, “Yes you did…”

Larissa blushed and looked away.

“Ok fine I did…” she muttered, before looking back at you with that same needy look, “fuck me properly, Daddy…?” She whimpered, already squirming where she sat.

You smirked once more and nodded.

“Of course, baby… Come on, let’s go to the bedroom” you said in your sultry, knee wobbling tone, making Larissa already start to ride the waves of pleasure again.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[han4el]

How I see the moon signs, as a cancer rising + leo moon

— Aries Moon

So insane... love it. I just never know what to expect from them. When I think I start to understand them, I discover a new layer to them, a new heatwave incoming, ready to melt any drop of hypocrisy, fakeness or illusions. Personally, I never had close friends with this placement, but I've seen them being very supportive with their close ones. Even if they sometimes say something rude or out of the pocket, it's usually good intended and they only say it if they think it's absolutely necessary (unless you're annoying to them, then they'll just straight up bully you).

Random associations: PE competitions in middle school, angry apologies, crying and laughing at the same time, being mad at someone for being nice to you, being the life of the party for the "the life of the party" people, the best friend of the popular/famous girl, getting giddy with your pet after just yelling at someone, MOOD SWINGS, having a favorite person that shapes your personality more than you think, friendly bullying, loyalty, no bs, no cap, you get what you give, nothing more and nothing less, being remembered by that one friend who checks on you everytime you're struggling, night car rides, uncontrollably laughing in serious situations, red velvet cake, cinnamon, sharp eyeliner, messy hair, making a competition out of anything and getting mad at the fact that you're the only one taking it seriously, always trying to be the best, long-term friendships (like 10 years long), sunstrokes, nosebleeds, blacking out, tremors before fighting, mafia romance, russian models, dry red wine, learning how to fight just to defend yourself, fast life, being in a relationship with someone you low-key hate, fruity and spicy perfumes, enjoying burning paper as a way of releasing stress, feeling relaxed after getting someone else mad instead, forgetting to eat, mixing random pieces but somehow making the outfit work, being the only one who can pull off a piece of clothing or a specific style (usually it looking weird on other people), scratch marks after playing with your pets, having new big dreams every month, red hair, freckles, tanned skin, arm wrestling, boys teasing their crushes, the one who always gets in trouble.

What I love about this placement: the commitment, ambition, devotion, the passion, the energy, the random bursts of emotions. If you need someone to inspire you into doing something, call these guys. They'll make you want to change your life 360° in one night (and most probably actually doing half of those things in one week). They're really good at just getting the sh*t done themselves. Unapologetically authentic and autonomous. The developed ones are actually very good at controlling their feelings and using them for their advantage. Maybe it's just me, but the aries moons I've seen had really pretty skin, usually with freckles. Oh and their noses are usually very pointy or just look that way. Their faces overall just seem very athletic. You might think they do sports even if they don't (they secretly do). Very serious about their purpose. Will never look at you again if you take their dedication for granted. Also, won't waste their time with you if they sense your weak morale, lack of self-awareness or if you don't really wish to change anything in your life. That's an ick for them.

What I dislike about this placement: how fast they forget their old projects and sometimes ex friends (I know it's for their own good, though). Their impulsivity... they will look you in the eyes and say the most gut wrenching threat then forget completely about it 5 minutes later and act all weird if you remind them of it as if it's your fault that you made them "mad enough to behave like that". That loud a** voice in those situations when y'all REALLY have to keep it down 😭 also they're rarely empathetic, so don't run to them when you have a problem (unless you're bffs, then they'll fight whoever hurt you).

My experience with them: 6/10

I might make this a series. Tell me what you think.

[justsalpals]

I always knew about Stede's self-centeredness and lack of empathy (or more accurately: lack of thought/consideration) for those around him. It was a part of the character, often played for laughs, and always seemed born of a cheerful ignorance and inability to see outside himself originating from his life of privilege rather than any greed or selfishness.

I assumed a major part of the story would be him growing as a person and learning what it really meant to be a captain. How to care for and look out for the crew. It seemed so engrained into the show's concept, before Ed even showed up, that it never once occurred to me that he just. Wouldn't.

There are examples all over the show, but there's an example that cut me far deeper than the rest. That completely changes how much leeway I was willing to give the character, and made me genuinely so mad for the crew.

You guessed it. It's about Ed, the complete disregard of the crew's wishes and boundaries, and him proving his own hypocrisy and how he's completely willing to manipulate and disregard what I'd thought was a core tenant to his character (ie: "talking it through" meeting others with kindness and understanding, ect.)

It's about how the crew voted Ed to be banished, and Stede invited him back the very same night. It's about "one night" suddenly becoming an extended stay. It's about Stede actually fucking shushing people voicing their concerns and feelings during the apology. It's about what a big deal they made about the probation compromise, Ed in a sack and bell until the crew was comfortable with him again and (once again) Ed literally being back in his leathers 24 hours later. (I usually mentally insert at least a few days between episodes, but we know that wasn't the case here because of Lucius and Pete's engagement sex marathon.)

How many of you wanna bet that the crew genuinely got together and decided they were comfortable with Ed again, after he what? Caught one fish with Fang? Or would you rather bet that Ed got bored of humoring them? Because I know where I'd put my money.

And the crew's attitude breaks my heart, the general vibe summed up by Archie shortly after Ed's non-apology. This is just what happens. It's like when she had to fight Jim to death in the storm. This is just how it goes. The people in charge make the rules, and everyone else just has to deal with it.

So much for the new age of piracy, huh? Sounds like Stede fits right in with how it's always been, just dressed up in empty kind words and false promises.

[inhonoredglory]

Good Omens Season 3: Heaven and Hell dividing humanity; humanity as Leviathan; and Aziraphale locking the doors of Heaven and throwing away the key [A Meta]

(This meta is long, but I swear there's some good stuff in here. It took me 2 months to get it together for these two longsuffering Anons. Thank you so much for asking me these very important questions.)

In preparation for answering two Asks above (and to aid my own predictions of Good Omens 3), I read and reviewed the Book of Revelation, W.B. Yeat’s iconic poem “The Second Coming,” Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods, Neil Gaiman’s deleted scene from American Gods (Shadow meeting Jesus in America), and Doctor Who showrunner Russell T Davies’ 2003 miniseries The Second Coming (starring Christopher Eccleston!). The first two are definitely going to be referenced in season 3, Davies’ show is one of the few stories dealing head-on with the coming of Christ, and Terry and Neil’s bibliographies are probably the biggest resources for how Season 3 will shake out thematically.

🕊 How Aziraphale Will Change Heaven

I think GO s3 is the season we see Aziraphale really come into his own, when we see him implement the moral vision he’s taken this long to coalesce, when all the pieces he and Crowley have put together are finally put on stage in a terrifying, beautiful display (all that righteous anger and conviction, merged with his kindness and empathy is going to be Something Else).

There’s an angel in the Book of Revelation who stands between the Earth and the Sea. This angel wears a rainbow halo and speaks with the voice of seven thunders, and yet John (the writer of Revelation) is told not to write down what this angel speaks. (Sounds like someone has hit on the Ineffable Plan?) If Neil and Terry were going to pick up an image from Revelation for Aziraphale, I really like this one, because it feels like an intermediary role (between two Sides), one that god dare not make public because it speaks an uncomfortable truth. And it’s about speaking and revealing knowledge, instead of fighting or destroying something.

Because even though we know Azi and Crowley will fight to stop the second End Times, fighting itself is not a theme Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett really champion. Instead of war, Aziraphale will oppose Heaven in all the little ways he and Crowley opposed it before: By enjoying human comforts (Azi will definitely bring food and trinkets to Heaven and send scrivener angels and seraphim alike to tour earth). By asking questions (Heaven’s new suggestion box). By telling stories about humanity and why it’s important to know who these humans are before anyone kills anybody (Azi was, after all, brought on board because of his human expertise).

Aziraphale will become what Crowley wanted to be before the Fall, but Azi’s got the benefit of thousands of years of knowledge, cunning, and intelligence about how both Heaven and humanity work. He knows Heaven’s weaknesses, he knows humanity’s strengths, he knows his own capabilities, and he knows where Heaven will turn a blind eye. He’s going to be such a bastard the likes of which we’ve never seen. And he’s going to drop truth bombs like there’s no tomorrow.

Season 2 brought back the book banter about “the lower you start, the more opportunities you have.”

Season 3 will bring back Aziraphale’s most badass book moment. This scene takes place after Azi possesses an American televangelist talking about the fire and brimstone of the End Times and the Rapture (the mass teleporting of all worthy believers to Heaven). Says Aziraphale,

Aziraphale is fed up with Heaven’s hypocrisy and he's scathing in his condemnation of both Heaven and Hell. Everyone will die and become collateral damage, no matter which side is doing the killing.

Sound familiar?

That's the arc Aziraphale is heading towards: that blazing conviction of Crowley's, spoken out loud and fearless and in spite of his eons of trauma. And Season 3 will see Aziraphale get to that place, where he gets to tell off Heaven, but not just in the privacy of the bookshop or the bandstand, but to their faces in Heaven's hallowed halls.

The demons and angels in Season 2 were much less icky and ethereal (respectively) from their appearances in Season 1. Because it's working towards a further humanization of both sides in Season 3. Because one of the biggest themes in s3 will be Aziraphale humanizing Heaven in all the little quaint ways he loves humanity. All in preparation for the endgame of Heaven and Hell not existing at all.

(Season 3 deep dive continues under the cut...)

Because angels and demons won’t be fought, but changed. Maybe not by much, but just enough to break the loyalty they have to a Great Plan no one understands. This is how both Neil’s American Gods and Terry’s Small Gods conclude, with the build-up to an incredible battle, and then for the human hero to step in and talk down the gods and armies into seeing sense and reason.

I don’t think Aziraphale himself will be that person. It might be a very human Jesus. Or (more likely) a random human being caught up in this craziness (maybe someone in Tadfield, per the working title of the second GO book: 668: The Neighbor of the Beast). But Aziraphale will be fundamental in changing the atmosphere of Heaven in the little ways Earth changed him.

🗝 Season 3 Themes: Morality and God

In the Job minisode, Aziraphale casually but boldly assumed that god didn’t want the goats and children to be killed. Because Aziraphale has a firm and dogged idea about what god should be. It’s his own personal morality, but he calls it god’s because he doesn’t want to imagine the symbol of ultimate goodness being anything other than what he Aziraphale himself feels to be true.

And I don’t think that’s a theme that Good Omens will deny for Aziraphale. Because it’s not really about how evil or good god is. It doesn’t matter what god thinks or is. god doesn’t answer questions, doesn’t deliver messages we can understand, doesn’t show up when needed. god is inscrutable, shifty, absent, “a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”

What’s important is what humanity has done with god, what humanity has said about god, what they do in god’s name, what they interpret god to be. That’s the real danger.

And Aziraphale, in his profound goodness, will become the person he wants god to be. Because that’s the injunction we all have. To live up to the ideal we have made for ourselves: In many ways, that’s what god is.

Aziraphale is now in a privileged place that allows him to affect basically the entirety of Creation with that driving idealism. He will level the playing field in Heaven. I firmly believe Aziraphale will be the one to close the doors to the pearly gates and throw away the key.

So, like you asked Anon, will Aziraphale try to make Heaven better or stop the Second Coming? I think those are the same goal. Changing Heaven will fundamentally change how the Second Coming happens, because just like the End Times in Season 1, Heaven and Hell’s scheme will be turned on its head because the Chosen One refuses to follow the script.

The Second Coming will end, not with a bang, but a whimper, because everyone decides to turn in their guns and forget the whole thing.

⚔️ Heaven and Hell v. Humanity

But before that ending happens, I think there will be another threat the world has to face: the individuals who are so sure of their own righteousness that no amount of sense could stop them from destroying anyone who thinks differently. This is an important theme in both Neil and Terry’s works (see Vorbis, the Exquisitor in Small Gods, who tortured unbelievers for the Church), and I believe it will show up in the new season.

There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous. –Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Because it’s humanity who takes Faith and shapes it into Religion. We are the ones who created the Heaven we see in GO: cold, unfeeling, strict, judgmental. And I think Season 3 is going to address this fundamental belief of both Neil and Terry: that humans are just so damnably human (fundamentally innocent and stupid and wonderful) and yet there’s a few of us who will take things too far and think that Someone wants them to destroy everything in the Name of God. And in these changing contemporary political times (the passage of an old generation, still clinging to their old ways and growing more extreme by the minute *cough*Trump*cough*), the dangerous people become even more vocal and violent, like the frightening, monstrous creature in WB Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming,” a devastating scourge on the world born in the name of God:

Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. […] A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, […] And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? –WB Yeats, "The Second Coming"

That’s who I think the Metatron will team up with in the end, someone like Vorbis. Because we’ve already seen how petty and small Heaven and Hell is, especially in Season 2. Only the Metatron really carries some heft and foreboding. I believe he’ll team up with some extremist faction of humanity who wants to see the End of Days and divide the world into Yours and Mine, with Heaven taking a portion and Hell taking a third and calling it a day. Not a War, but a divvying out of souls. With no consent or permission on the part of humanity.

That’s what I think the zombie reference is all about. Like Gabriel said in 2x03:

Yes, we’re going to get zombies. And it’s going to be insane and funny and horrifying (and I think we’ll get to know one or two historical figures who pop back up to earth). But the thematic and fundamental metaphor of zombies is how they have no free will. They’re not alive, they have no souls, they have no choices. That’s what Heaven and Hell want humanity to be: To do away with the dance of choice and free will and divide humanity once and for all between both sides. That’s how Heaven and Hell team up against the human race.

🐳 Leviathan (Job 41:19) as Humanity

And that’s how I believe the Leviathan fits in, who is the subject of the quote from Muriel’s matchbox:

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature, and this passage goes on and on about how fearsome this being is:

Who can penetrate its double coat of armor? Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth?… Nothing on earth is its equal—a creature without fear. It looks down on all that are haughty; it is king over all that are proud –Job 41:13b, 33-34

And yet why does god want to explain how amazing the Leviathan is? To show how god has control of it. God says,

Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook… Can you make a pet of it like a bird or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?… Can you fill its hide with harpoons… No one is fierce enough to rouse it. Who then is able to stand against me? –Job 41:1, 5, 7, 10

The reasoning is that because god created this dangerous and terrifying being, then god must be even more dangerous and terrifying. And if god can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then god must be worshipped and respected. (Yes, it’s as messed-up as it sounds.)

I can’t help but think of this Leviathan as a metaphor for humanity. A beautiful, ferocious being whose ownership and control is the focus of god’s attention and qualification for worship? Of the Leviathan, Job says: “Will traders barter for it? Will they divide it up among the merchants?” (Job 41:6). That’s how humanity is going to be treated in Season 3.

Because both God and Satan want to control humanity. They want to put their thumb on human souls and claim them for each side. But humanity doesn’t have to be so easily fooled, because we are more powerful than we realize. Our hearts and imaginations can forge a path of purpose and goodness without the entrapment of organized religion and fundamentalism. We, like Leviathan, are ferocious and angry and fed up with being treated like this. We can and will fight back.

🌟 Becoming Gods

Ultimately, we will shuffle off the need for Heaven and Hell (symbolized by the shutting down of both at the end of Season 3). We will lose the need to unquestionably defer to a Being who plays dice with our lives. I’m reminded of the opening passage to Terry’s Small Gods:

The lowly tortoise will learn to be the eagle; humanity will learn to be like god. Because we are as powerful as god, since we created god. Adam Young pointed out that having a god figure to solve all our problems doesn’t make humanity any more responsible for the evil things we’ve done. We need to learn that we are all we’ve got, and we have to answer for the shit we’ve done to each other and to the world.

I like how Russell T Davies put it in his show The Second Coming, where Jesus comes down again in the body of ordinary human Steven Baxter and tells humanity:

You are becoming gods. There's a new master of creation, and it's you! Unraveled DNA, and at the same time you're cultivating bacteria strong enough to kill every living thing! Do you think you are ready for that much power? You lot? You lot? Cheeky bastards. You're running around science like kids with guns, creating a new world, while the world you've got is stinking…. If you want the position of god then take the responsibility. –Russell T Davies, The Second Coming

I legitimately think that’s how Jesus in Good Omens 3 will come down. In the body of a regular 30-something off-the-streets guy, who thinks the pomp and circumstance made about him is insane. And Aziraphale will be his minder, trying to tell him how the whole scheme is supposed to play out and giving him wise asides on how warped Heaven’s standards are and trying to tell him how to go about changing things for the better. (Jesus will be terribly confused, meanwhile; he just wants to go out for a pint and get on with his human life, none of this god business.)

🐍 Crowley’s Growth

There will be some big things at play in Season 3. I think Aziraphale will change how Heaven operates and close Heaven for good. I think Aziraphale will initially try to get Jesus on board with Azi’s own private mission of Goodness. I actually think Crowley will end up becoming Aziraphale’s “back channels” to Earth, and they’d exchange trite, bantering messages about the state of affairs from secret rendezvous points in America. (There was a whole thing about Jesus getting lost in Times Square, according to Neil Gaiman.)

I think Crowley will learn how to trust Aziraphale and learn that doing the right thing means being brave and selfless. He’ll realize that humanity is worth saving, even if it means dying. In fact, his depression at the start of Season 2 will probably only get worse after the loss of Aziraphale, and his altruism might get colored by the taint of suicidal recklessness, because he might as well go out for what he believes in, if what he wanted most in the world chose being selfless over being with him. (If Crowley’s character takes a suicidal turn like the Tenth Doctor after losing Rose, I’m gonna scream.)

This is how Aziraphale helps Crowley be brave in the finale of the Good Omens book. That’s what I think will happen in Good Omens 3:

Aziraphale here displays a gentleness and kindness that comes from a place of grounded knowledge and responsibility. He knows how much he and Crowley have in their own ways fucked up humanity too, and he knows that no matter what their own personal feelings, they each need to do something to defend the human species they've come to love so much.

Crowley is scared of risking everything to help save humanity, but with Aziraphale's encouragement and wisdom, he realizes that doing the right thing is the only option he can choose, no matter the risk to his own happiness and safety.

So I believe Crowley will learn to understand why Aziraphale chose to return to Heaven and fight in the trenches. Crowley will see it as a choice made to save, not just each other, but the world they love so much.

Ultimately, I think Crowley on earth will take on Aziraphale’s strongest qualities: being selfless and bold to protect humanity at costs, and connecting to humanity on a personal, individual level.

While Aziraphale in Heaven will become like Crowley: asking questions, sabotaging the System, and condemning Heaven with all the uncomfortable truths they need to hear.

[scarareg]

I feel like, when it comes to Eloise, some people are confusing being a "girl's girl" with "allowing every woman to do whatever they want, regardless of the consequences".

Here are my reasoning:

1- It's true that Pen is really charming because Nicola is charming AF, but that doesn't mean that everyone who disagrees with her is the villain.

Eloise has every right to be angry at Pen because Pen has written badly about Daphne, Colin and Anthony, has written about Kate, who Eloise has grown fond of since they first met. And of course, has written about Eloise, ruining her relationship with Theo, which for Eloise was important.

Eloise telling Pen to confess to Colin that she is Lady Whistledown wasn't her being vengeful, was her trying to protect her brother. Because Colin deserves the truth. And even then, when Eloise realized how important Pen was to Colin, she put her pride aside to go talk to Pen, giving her an olive branch, and agreeing that the best for Colin and for their marriage was for Pen to stop writing. No because Eloise hates Pen or anything, but because Colin hates Lady Whistledown, and if he founds out the truth he would be deeply hurt, and he was.

She never did anything to hurt Pen, even if she could have, with all the information she knows about Pen, and she even helped her when Pen needed it or was happy for her when Pen was happy.

2- About Cressida. It is true that at the beginning Eloise had a hard time understanding Creddida's family, but Cressida's fall from grace wasnt Eloise fault. Cressida did that to herself the moment she decided to pretend to be Lady Whistledown. And what could Eloise do a that point? She has no power over Creddida's father and decisions. She didn't even know Cressida was planning to impersonate Lady Whistledown, so she didn't have the chance to try to stop her. She can not tell her what she knows about Lady Whistledown because that would mean betraying Pen. So, nothing about this situation was her faul.

Then Cressida went to find Eloise just because she needed to write something good and convincing just to keep the lie, and when Eloise said no, she told Eloise that "she doesn't want to be with Cressida because she is jealous about Cressida being Lady Whistledown", which Eloise knows is a lie. Like, Eloise is already angry at Cressida for lying and taking credit from Pen's work, so telling her that would not make Eloise like Cressida more, that would have the opposite effect

Yeah, what Cressida is going through is terrible, but it wasn't Eloise fault at all. Cressida dig that hole herself,making it worst with the blackmailing stuff

3-I think Eloise just hates lies. She hates the hypocrisy of high society and all the drama. That is why she dislike to go to events, and not because "she think women are dumb".

That is also why she decided to end her friendship with both Cressida and Pen, although in reality she still cares about them. Because she values truthfulness above all else, and they have both lied to her face.

In conclusion, it is true that Eloise lacks perspective and has a hard time putting herself in other's shoes, but know she is aware of that now thanks to Theo, who humbled her and was honest with her about how privileged she was and how different their lives are.

That is why she has decided to travel. To meet new places and people and grow up and mature. That is her character arc