#outlandish behavior

[respectthepetty]

Backshots & Smiles

Yes, I'm being crass and this is a sexual innuendo, but go with it . . .

Ming loves Joe's back because it allows him to think he is with Tong.

We know this.

Because the series has shown this several times.

And Joe knows it too now.

But the third episode showed us that Ming actually fell in love with Tong because of Joe's back.

Therefore, Ming really fell in love with Joe first.

But he didn't realize it (until it was too late).

Even when Ming initially met Tong, Ming saw Tong's back first with his side profile.

And Tong's back at the restaurant reminded Ming of Joe.

And the meal Joe made for him their first night together - face first

The show has constantly told us that Ming is attracted to Joe's back because of its connection to Tong.

But the show has also told us Ming is truly in love with Joe because he IS Joe, not Tong's stand in which is why Ming, who only has sex with Joe from behind, was finally willing to let Joe top from behind.

And it's why the posters have shifted as well, so we now see Joe's face and Ming's back.

Unlike Ming and Joe who switch faces/places (there is a deeper meaning there about outward perceptions versus personal identity but that's not for here), Tong is the "face" . . . but that is all he is and all he will only be.

But I think the show is even stating Ming and Joe are one versatile unit as in they are connected and evolving and Tong is the static outlier.

Unlike Ming in the elevator, Sol had no recognition of Joe but then again Ming has been in love with Joe forever, even if it was initially through his back.

And Joe has never seen Ming as just a face as so many other do.

Which is why it's important that Ming rarely smiles.

Because Ming does smile.

A lot.

When he is with Joe.

So the staff members noting that Ming only smiles when he works with Tong is telling.

Because I don't think Ming is smiling because it's Tong.

He is smiling because Tong reminds him of Joe.

Ming, the man who is still living in Joe's house, making two meals with the bowls Joe bought, mending the broken mugs with their names on them, using the personalized pillowcases, and wearing the watch Joe bought him, is using Tong has a stand-in for Joe.

Joe is no longer the stand-in. He is the main character, which is why Ming told *new* Joe's BACK that people only liked him because of his resemblance to *old* Joe.

Ming no longer wants just a stand-in, but the whole person, so when he gets Joe back, he will always look him in his face.

And smile.

[geek-fashionista]

Babysitting

Setting: Gene Coulon Beach Park, 2025 Luna (35): *watching the kids* Marnie, quit biting Diego! Another Mom: So cute. Which one's yours? Luna: All of them! *snuggles Mei Lien* Other Mom: *confused smile*

[buggiecrossing]

nalu needs to stop reading stuff that makes hyr mad. friendly reminder to protect your peace and to not let your emotions overcome you to the point you sink to the opposing side's level. la paz sea contigo

[binders-and-beanies]

“Physical media enjoyers” when you share or talk about traditional art

[tricktster]

it is well established canon that my response to nearly any outlandish behavior that has impacted my day is to write the perpetrator a polite but firm letter

the letter i composed today and am about to drop off is perhaps less polite than I am typically capable of

[great-master-airplane]

you are hereby cordially invited to the meat bun meeting.

Honestly, this seems like a private affair, so I'm happy enough to observe from afar ;w;

(Also I'm not actually convinced that Hua Cheng signed off on this invitation.....)

[luna-azzurra]

List of character flaws that could make a funny original character (OC) even more entertaining

Chronic clumsiness: Tripping, stumbling, and knocking things over with comedic regularity.

Absurdly bad luck: Experiencing a series of comically unfortunate events.

Exaggerated laziness: Finding increasingly creative ways to avoid doing any work.

Uncontrollable laughter: Breaking into fits of giggles at the most inappropriate moments.

Inability to keep a secret: Accidentally blurting out confidential information or gossip.

Extreme forgetfulness: Frequently losing belongings or forgetting important appointments.

Obsessive-compulsive quirks: Engaging in peculiar rituals or behaviors for no apparent reason.

Social awkwardness: Saying and doing the most cringeworthy things in social situations.

Over-the-top dramatics: Reacting melodramatically to even the smallest of inconveniences.

Excessive talkativeness: Rambling on endlessly without realizing they've lost their audience.

Compulsive lying: Fabricating outlandish stories to impress others or get out of trouble.

Food obsession: Constantly eating or talking about food, even in inappropriate contexts.

Nervous tics: Displaying quirky mannerisms or habits when feeling anxious.

Paranoid tendencies: Jumping to wild conclusions and imagining elaborate conspiracy theories.

Uncontrollable curiosity: Snooping around and getting into trouble due to a relentless need to know.

Over-the-top superstitions: Believing in absurd lucky charms or rituals.

Excessive hypochondria: Constantly diagnosing themselves with imaginary illnesses.

Silly phobias: Fearing utterly ridiculous things, like rubber ducks or clowns.

Inability to tell time: Consistently running late or showing up at bizarre hours.

Ridiculous fashion sense: Sporting outrageous outfits or hairstyles that defy all logic.

These flaws can turn your funny OC into a lovably eccentric character, bringing humor and charm to any story or situation they find themselves in.

[livingdxadwriter]

You’ve got my body, flesh and bone

Obsessed!Rafe x nerdy!girl!reader

Summary: something was different about you, and rafe can’t stop thinking about you ever since you came home from college. He knows you want him, too, even if you don’t show it

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, penetrative sex, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), fingering, obsessed behaviors, pervy behaviors (I think?), Rafe is down bad, reader is secretly naughty, dom!rafe, spitting, choking, bit of degradation, Rafe is rough and she likes it.

Wrote this with s2 Rafe in mind but he’s not as psychotic🥰 reader also wears glasses, hope you like being blind

WC: 5.5k I’m so sorry

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT MEEEEE. Anyway I couldn’t help myself. Rafe and Drew are in my mind all day and I need them so bad so I wrote it! I dedicate this to the reason of my insanity @bloodibambiidoll love you doll for feeding me into crash out Rafe😩. This was heavily inspired by her own Rafe fics so def check her out!

Also tagging my other rafe baby @babygorewhore🩷

There weren't a lot of things in this world that Rafe didn’t have. His whole life, anything he wanted, he had, at the palm of his hand. Whatever he wanted, he could do. And he fucking loved it. He didn’t know what it was like to crave something to the point of madness. Until you came around. 

He didn’t know what it was, that feeling deep inside his gut. He didn’t know if it was lust, or desire, or if he truly felt something for you. Perhaps he felt all three. But one thing he knew for certain. If he didn’t have you soon, he was going to cave someone’s face in. It didn’t help that you shot him down every time. The more you ignored him, the more he craved you. Albeit he knew he had a chance in high school and he didn’t take it then. But even he knew he was a prick then. More than he was now, anyway. Deep down he couldn’t blame you for not giving him a chance now, he didn’t want you when you were all quiet and had those ugly glasses, so why should he get you now that you were more confident and stopped giving a fuck what people thought about you? He had to admit, college made you hot as fuck. 

Rafe didn’t know it at first, but the first time he saw you at a party, your hair all pretty, your laugh so contagious he heard it across the room, your clothes hugging every curve of your body perfectly. His jaw fucking dropped. He almost didn’t believe it was you at first. Until he heard whispers about just how fucking hot you had gotten after college. He didn’t know it then, but his sanity was going to go downhill from there. 

That was a month ago, and he still couldn’t get you to give him the light of day. It was almost like you were running away from him, every time. And it pissed him off, really, it did. He craved your attention like he never before. Maybe he was getting soft. Or he was going insane. Either one.

The worst part? 

You were doing it on purpose. 

You caught on pretty quickly. After the first couple of times of catching Rafe blatantly staring at you whenever he saw you, you were curious. It wasn’t entirely outlandish, you were like an exotic animal, having come back to the island after graduating early from university. You didn’t change much, you just learned to manage your social anxiety and started putting more effort into your appearance. You didn’t understand why everyone made such a big deal out of you. But you ignored it for the most part. 

But you couldn’t ignore Rafe. His presence was intoxicating. Even if he didn’t approach you directly. You knew he was there. But you never made an effort to talk to him. You only ever talked to Sarah when you saw her. She was the one that pointed out Rafe in a corner, Topper talking his ear off but Rafe wasn’t paying listening to a word being said, he was looking at you. You, of course, brushed her off with the excuse you gave everyone. 

“He'll get over it, just give it a week.”

He did not, in fact, get over it. 

He thought you didn’t notice, but he followed you on instagram. Of course you noticed. How could you not? Your account was public, but you occasionally looked at who followed you. And the second you saw Rafe fucking Cameron followed you, you almost fainted. Suddenly, the stupid crush you had on Rafe at sixteen came flooding right back. You refused to get your hopes up, but the thought of Rafe quietly stalking your social media never left your mind.

You had no proof, but over the course of a month, you posted on your stories way more than you ever did in college, because you knew Rafe would see them. If you went to a party on Figure 8? Insta story. If you went to the beach? Swimsuit selfies. Felt pretty and did your makeup? Insta story. And what did you notice? Rafe always coincidentally seemed to end up at the exact place you were at. He never came alone, obviously. But he always hung out nearby, always within your line of sight. 

You were driving him mad, certainly. There's no way it was legal for you to wear a swimsuit like that. It actually made his blood boil knowing there were other guys blatantly eye fucking you. Only he should be allowed to do that. He angrily sipped into his cup, silently fuming as he had to stand and simply watch you laugh and run around with your friends, walking past him every time you got drinks for the bar. 

He swore he saw you grin at him one time, a devious and flirty look in your eyes when you made eye contact with him. And he was ready to grab you by the arm and drag you to his car and fuck you right then and there. But he decided against it. Somehow he had enough self control. But it was wearing thin the longer his torture dragged on. 

“Girl, what did you do to Rafe?” Your high school best friend asked you when you came back with your drinks. You frowned, tilting your head innocently. 

“To Rafe? Nothing. I haven’t even talked to him since I came back.” You answered with the truth. Though you purposely ignored what she probably meant. 

“He’s been like glaring at you the whole night. He hasn’t moved from there all night and he’s just looking at you.” She pointed out, more quietly now. And you couldn’t help but subtly shift your eyes in his direction. And indeed, your eyes met with his piercing blue ones. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t race the slightest bit when you caught him looking at you like that. He was looking at you exactly how you desperately wanted him to look at you in high school. 

“No idea what you mean. He’s probably just annoyed I’m hanging out with Sarah and her boyfriend. He probably thinks I’m encouraging her hanging out with the pogues.” You mumbled into your cup, shrugging as you quickly averted your gaze from Rafe. You weren’t sure if you wanted to convince her, or yourself.

“You’re better than me, because if Rafe Cameron looked at me like that I’d be dragging him to my car so fast.” She snorted and you almost choked on your drink. “I think you’re the only girl on this island he hasn’t fucked.” 

“Thank God for that.” You responded a bit too quickly, hoping to hide the slight bit of hurt her words brought to you. You always knew you weren’t good enough for Rafe. You always pretended not to care, but you’d be lying.

You left alone that night. And Rafe couldn’t hold back the urge to follow close behind you. He didn’t know when he got in his car after you. Or when he started driving to your house. Or when he got out of his car. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like he was going to knock on your door. Or maybe he would. He ran a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he swept his hair away from his face, exasperated. The very small, but still present, rational side of his mind told him to get the fuck out. And he was going to, until he saw you emerge from your room on the second floor, and you stood right in front of the large window cell. He panicked, running to hide from sight, behind a large tree, but he didn’t leave, he didn’t want to. 

His jaw dropped, his eyes blowing wide open at the sight of you, untying your bikini top and just letting it fall, right then and there. The sight shot straight to his cock. What the fuck were you thinking? What if someone saw you? The thought of you exposing yourself like that made his jaw lock, but his now hard cock in his shorts was much more evident. He couldn’t look away. He was pissed he couldn’t see below your stomach, especially when he saw you crouch as you presumably took off your bottoms, too. 

Rafe almost moaned at the thought. 

And just like that you were gone. And you didn’t come back to the window. It almost felt like the universe was playing a cruel fucking prank on him. Now he had to drive home with an uncomfortable hard on in his shorts. That pissed him off even more.

~~~~~~

This became a habit for Rafe. He would aggressively scroll through your instagram page multiple times a day, hoping that he’d find out where you were for the night. But not in a weird way. He just wanted to see you. But he still hadn’t found the way to get you to talk to him first. He was starting to see the flaw in that plan. But alas, he couldn’t talk to you himself if he didn’t know where to find you. And sometimes, he’d find himself just standing outside your window, hiding behind that same tree. Sometimes you’d sit by the window cell, play around with your hair, sometimes you would read. And sometimes, you’d walk around completely naked, in full view of Rafe. How many times he all but sped home to rub one out was actually embarrassing. 

Rafe was tired of this little game. Though he didn’t quite realize it was a game at all. You had no proof, but you knew. That one time you caught him nearly running back to his car was proof enough for you. So you kept going, until he snapped. You didn’t anticipate just how fast he would break. 

“Guess who showed up.” Your friend whispered in your ear. You casually glanced over your shoulder to find none other than Rafe, with Topper and Kelce right behind him like lost puppies. It had to be criminal how hot this man looked. The polo shirt he wore was hanging on by a thread under his biceps and you had to force yourself to tear your eyes away. 

“Yeah, so? He shows up to every party.” You shrugged, pretending not to catch on to the blatant connection. She rolled her eyes at you. 

“Oh, so he casually shows up to the one party you’ve come to all week? Don’t you think it’s a little odd?”

You shrugged again. You were sure it was a coincidence. Sure it wasn’t because you posted a selfie of your pretty makeup and your pretty dress with the location of the party you got invited to. And surely the way Rafe was staring at you right now had nothing to do with the way your dress accentuated your chest perfectly, showing enough but still leaving some to the imagination. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. 

“Nope. Anyway, want a drink?” You smiled at her innocently, completely ignoring her Rafe interrogation. She shot you a pointed look, surely she would grill you about it later, but she relented nonetheless. 

With a smile you skipped over to the bar, your dress riding up ever so slightly as you leaned over the wooden bar to speak over the loud music. Rafe nearly dropped his beer, his eyes going from your hair down to your ass. He couldn’t take this anymore. 

“Yeah, whatever bro. I’ll be right back.” He cut off Topper as he went on about one thing or another, he didn’t wait for a response and he approached you in long strides. He sniffed softly, running a hand through his hair before opening his mouth. 

You heard your name spoken in a deep voice, with a drink in each hand, you whipped around, not expecting to run straight into a solid, muscled chest. 

“Hey—oh fuck,” Rafe cursed when the drinks you were holding spilled all over his shirt, and over the front of your dress. You gasped loudly, nearly squealing when the ice cubes slipped down your chest. 

“Rafe! What the actual fuck.” You almost screamed at him, desperately attempting to wipe off the alcohol soaking your dress, the front now sticking to your tits. Rafe wanted to say something, maybe apologize, but he was mouth agape at the sight of your soaked chest, it took him a minute to process. 

“Shit, my bad. I didn’t mean to,” he swallowed, his own shirt starting to stick to his chest. Which didn’t slip past  you, even in your anger. But you couldn’t think about that right now. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m sure you totally didn’t want to embarrass me by spilling drinks all over me. Grow the fuck up, Rafe.” You huffed, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You could feel your face fluster with embarrassment and you had to force yourself not to cry. You had tried so hard to remove yourself from the old you, the one everyone made fun of, the one that got asked out to prom as a prank, the one everyone stared at in disgust. And you felt like that girl all over again. 

Rafe didn’t even have time to argue, you were running off before he could get a word in. He groaned, discomfort settling in from his shirt sticking to his skin. 

“Way to go bro. You didn’t have to embarrass the freakshow like that though.” Rafe sneered in disgust at your high school nickname and he rolled his eyes, shrugging off the casual hand on his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up before I shove broken glass down your throat.” 

If there was something in this world that Rafe could never have, it would be patience. And this little game had his sanity wearing very thin. 

He didn’t know exactly when he ended up at your front door, fist pounding loudly as he called your name. His bike was somewhere on the lawn, he didn’t bother to hide it this time. He swore if you didn’t open this door right now he would kick it open. He stepped back, his jaw tight as he waited a few seconds before doing something more drastic. Then, the door swung open. And there you were. 

“I swear to God Rafe.” You sighed loudly, crossing your arms over your now slightly damp chest, having somewhat dried off the front of your dress. Rafe was taken aback by the appearance of your glasses, however. He hadn’t seen you wear them since you came back. Were you always this cute in them? 

No, focus. 

“You didn’t even let me talk back there! I didn’t mean to run into you like that, I swear.” He took a step closer, slightly leaning down to talk close to your face. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyebrows furrowed with mistrust. 

“Oh right, so was it just a coincidence that you were standing right behind me like a wall?” You shot back, shooting him a suspicious look. He rolled his eyes at you, sighing heavily. “If you wanted to look at them better you could’ve just asked! You didn’t have to knock drinks all over my dress.” 

The words left your mouth in a haze. Fast and angrily as you motioned your hands around. You didn’t realize what you said until the look in Rafe’s eyes shifted. Going from confused to downright sinful. He tilted his head at you, crowding your personal space with his big fucking body. You realized then that you really fucked up. 

“What’d you say?” He asked, his voice low as he made you step back into your house. He followed you, his face close to yours and you swallowed. 

“Huh?” Play dumb, sure. 

“Uh-uh, don’t try to be all innocent now. What the fuck did you say?” He repeated, one of his large hands coming up to grip your jaw. You swallowed, your lips pulled into a pout. 

“You really weren’t that sneaky.” You finally admitted, throwing all logic out of the window knowing you both got caught red-handed by the other. Though Rafe didn’t look embarrassed or even remorseful, if anything he looked pleasantly amused. Impressed even. 

“Well, shit.” A grin pulled at his lips as he laughed, a rush of adrenaline flowing through his already amped up body. “You little whore. You were striping in front of your fuckin’ window on purpose, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t know for sure but, I heard your bike a couple of times.” You shrugged, trying to hide the devious smile on your lips. Rafe scoffed humorously, in utter disbelief. “You following me on insta was kind of a given, too.” 

“You are..” He leaned down, his soft lips mere inches away from yours as he blew out a chuckle, “A dirty little slut. You have any fuckin’ idea what you’ve been doin’ to me? Hm?” He squeezed your jaw between his fingers, forcing your head back to make sure your eyes were on him. 

The words that left his mouth made you rub your thighs together, heat forming between them at the thought of being this close to Rafe, knowing he was on the brink of madness, all because of you. You could see it in his eyes, that utter need to fuck you, take you over and over, or else he would go insane. 

“Thought I wasn’t your type.” You shot back, pettiness lacing your tongue. A groan of annoyance rumbled in his chest. 

“I didn’t know I was your type.” 

“You’re everyone’s type, since when are you humble?” You mocked him with a small laugh, but it quickly died in your chest when his fingers fell to your throat, and he dug his fingers with the faintest pressure. You nearly moaned. 

“Well you’re my type right now. Your tits sure fuckin’ are.” He bit his lip softly, making sure his eyes were on yours when he spoke again, “bet your pussy is my type too. Lemme find out, hm?” 

If you weren’t wet before, you sure were now. You nearly moaned out loud, his words alone bending you to his will. Not that it would take much work. 

Rafe didn’t get to say another word, you were pulling him down by the back of his neck and you kissed him, and you kissed him really fucking hard. He liked your intensity. He craved to find out just what else you were hiding behind your innocent and sweet girl facade. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, his fingers lacing into your hair to force your head back for him. And you happily let him. His other hand shamelessly grabbed at your ass, squeezing it as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

“My bedroom is—“ you were breathless as you muttered against his lips. Rafe chuckled, cutting you off as he effortlessly hoisted you around his waist. 

“I know where your fuckin’ room is.” Of course he did. 

You giggled as Rafe tossed you on your bed, biting your bottom lip as you watched him pull his polo over his head and your jaw fell wide open at the sight. 

“Dude why are you like, so hot? Fuck.” Your eyes were big as you nearly drooled at the sight of his muscled torso. He was so ripped it was unbelievable. Rafe smirked at you, happy to hear that you were stroking his ego. He quickly joined you in your bed, straddling you as he hovered over you. 

“Yeah?” He leaned down, lips curved up into a grin as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your lips. You nodded as his tongue laced with yours, a string of spit connecting your lips when he pulled back. “You should've just talked to me then. Could’ve had me much sooner. You got any fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you stupid?” 

“How was I supposed to know? You didn’t want me before. I didn’t know.” You pouted, a bit of hurt laced in your voice. He rolled his eyes at you, long fingers coming to squeeze your face. You held your breath as his blue eyes pinned you.

“No, you just wanted to punish me. You wanted to parade yourself around Figure 8 with your pretty little dresses and your innocent little smile. But then at night you’d strip yourself naked in front of your window.” He huffed out the words, frustration coating his tongue. You shrugged. “You wanted to act like a slut, so I’ll fuck you like one. But first, I wanna taste your pussy.” 

The way your body shuddered when Rafe moved down the bed to settle between your legs was embarrassing. You were already shaking and he hadn’t even touched you. You held your breath in anticipation as he reached underneath your dress, tugging your panties down your legs. Rafe grinned at the blue lacy panties that matched your white and navy blue flowy dress. You pretended not to notice him casually shove the lace into his back pocket. 

“Take off your dress. I wanna look at your tits.”  You totally would punch any other man for speaking to you like this, but Rafe? He could speak to you in any way he wanted, especially when he was in between your legs, nearly drooling at the sight of your already soaked cunt. 

You complied, unzipping the side of your dress before pulling it over your head, to reveal that you were indeed not wearing a bra today. Rafe nearly groaned at the sight. 

“Fuck baby. You’re such a slut, did you plan this?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were replaced by a gasp when he dipped his head and licked a stripe between your folds without a single warning. 

It was actually embarrassing how quickly you were falling apart. You were a sobbing shaking mess as soon as he started to circle his tongue around your clit, sloppy sounds leaving his mouth as he moved his head up and down. Rafe was enjoying this as much as you were, how many times he fantasized about shoving his tongue into your cunt, what you would taste like, how you would sound like for him. It was driving him insane. He was groaning and moaning as he lapped at your soaking cunt. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby. You got any idea how many times I went home to rub one out thinkin’ about your pussy?” He groaned, spitting on your clit as he looked up at you, catching the way your back arched off the bed as your eyes rolled back into your head. “Should’ve just taken you. You would’ve let me, right doll? If I slipped in through your window and fucked this sweet little pussy in the middle of the night, wouldn’t even care as long as you got some dick, right?” 

His words slipped past you, only the feeling of his tongue back on your clit. You couldn’t think straight, your pussy was pulsing, it just felt so good, you didn’t remember the last time a man ate you like this, with such intensity and fervor. Rafe looked up at you again, amused by the way you squirmed and writhed on the bed. With a grin, he wrapped both arms under your knees and folded them damn near against your chest, spreading you open for him. And you couldn’t run away either. 

“I asked you a question.” He spat into your clit again, this time watching as the string of saliva ran down your clit before licking it. 

“Ah! Rafe! Fuck—y-yes! You can do whatever you want to me!” You sputtered, your voice breaking into a cry when he slipped his tongue into your hole. His nose bumped your clit as he fucked you with his tongue and you were nearly digging your nails into his scalp as you clutched his hair. You wanted to come so bad. “Please Rafe. I’m gonna come.” 

Rafe groaned into your pussy at your words. His tongue was replaced by two thick fingers and he curled them perfectly, enough to have you thanking the Gods for having your own house separate from your parents' main house. 

“Oh, fuck yeah. You look so pretty begging me to let you come. Say it again, say it again just like that f’me.” His eyes never left you as his tongue was back on your clit, his fingers slipping and curling inside your throbbing cunt in the most delicious way possible. You couldn’t even form a thought, let alone a sentence. You sobbed, your pussy pulsing around his thick fingers. 

“Please Rafe! Wanna come!” You didn’t have to say it twice, the second Rafe hummed at you, his tongue lapping at your swollen clit as his fingers fucked you raw, you were over. You were a shaking mess as you came, all you could do was gasp and cry as his fingers fucked you through your orgasm, and he happily continued to basically make out with your cunt.

“That was so fuckin’ good baby. You were so good f’me.” He grunted into your thigh as he lazily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Your eyes were screwed shut, heaving as you were still jolting from the aftershock. When you opened your eyes again you found Rafe already hovering above you, his blue eyes staring down at you with devious intentions. 

“You totally look so fuckin’ hot with those glasses. You should like suck my dick with them on.” You blinked at him, mouth slightly open which made him grin at you. “Not right now, I wanna be inside you now.” 

Rafe didn’t waste any fucking time in pressing your knees to your chest, your glistening pussy on full display and ready for his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy like I fuckin’ own it.” He spat, his jaw slightly falling open as he slipped into you. Your eyes rolled back almost instantly, the feeling of his cock stretching you was better than you could have ever imagined. He was so fucking big, too. “All these fuckin’ assholes lookin’ at you and I’m the only one that gets to fill this pussy, you got that?” 

You nodded harshly as he bottomed out, and without a warning he pulled out only to slam back into you, his cock damn near splitting you open. You threw your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing around his hair as he slammed into you, filling you deeper than anyone ever has before. 

“Just you Rafe! It’s always been you!” You grabbed his face, pulling him into a messy kiss. Your words made his cock twitch and all he wanted right then and there was to keep you here, beneath him, stuffed with his cock and never let you leave. 

“Why didn’t you come back sooner, huh? This pussy is so perfect, so tight. Just f’me. Want you all the fuckin’ time baby.” He grunted into your mouth, both arms caging you in as he drilled into you, his cock so deep you could almost feel him in your fucking guts. 

A string of pathetic sounds, a string of uh-uh-uh’s left your lips as he damn near folded you in half, your cute nails dragging down his back, surely to leave red angry marks. Rafe grunted in delight, his large hand coming to grab your throat. He definitely didn’t miss the way you pussy clenched around him then. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot, yknow that? Such a pretty little slut f’me. You’re gonna let me use you, hm? Do whatever I want with you?” He squeezed your throat, forcing your head up and down in a ‘yes’ gesture and you moaned, eyes screwed shut. “Mhmm, exactly. Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

The sound that left your throat was so pathetic Rafe laughed. You did as you were told, opening your eyes as you opened your mouth, you watched him with glazed eyes as he leaned down and spat straight into your mouth. He watched you jaw slacked as you happily swallowed, feeling the bump under his fingers. 

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, I love it.” He leaned down again, his fingers tightening around your throat as he spat into your mouth again, but this time he kissed you, it was so messy and sloppy and you fucking loved it. “Act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.” 

“Mhmm yes! I’m such a slut, just for you.” You choked out, your throat raw and sore from the grip he had on it. He shuddered at your words, his cock twitching as he dropped his free hand to rub harsh circles around your clit. Your eyes rolled so far back you actually looked like you were spasming. “O-oh god. I’m gonna come—! Please Rafe—!” 

“Ohh, feels so good, doesn’t it baby? You wanna gush all over my dick huh?” He spoke right into your cheek, his sweaty cheek pressed right against yours as he held you by your throat, your glasses getting squished by him and you were praying to the Gods that he didn’t end up breaking them. 

“Please, please, please Rafe!” You sobbed, your soaked cunt pulsing around his cock, your thighs sore and shaking as you hanged on by a thread, so close to reaching your limit. 

“That’s it doll, squeeze the fuck out of me, come all over my cock, just like that.” He rubbed your clit and drilled into your already abused hole until you were gushing, you whole body shaking as you fell into a fit of sobs. Rafe wasn’t one to come just like that, but the sight of you so utterly fucked out and sobbing almost made him spill right then and there. 

“Ah! Rafe!” You whined as he kept fucking you, his rough hips and harsh pace not once slowing down, driving you to the point of overstimulation. You squirmed, almost as if you wanted to run away from him. He tisked at you, releasing your throat to grab your arm, holding you down as he gripped the headboard with the other, damn near crushing you with his big fucking body. 

“Oh, where the fuck are you going, huh? Who said you could run away? Nah, you wanted it, so now you take it like a good girl.” He reveled in the way you took his cock, jaw agape, eyes screwed shut and forehead screwed into a frown of pleasure. 

You were practically done for when he carelessly shoved your face to the side, damn near knocking your glasses off your face. His lips sucked marks on your neck as your pussy convulsed around his cock for the second time. Your head was spinning so hard and your vision was so blurry, you didn’t even know what planet you were on.

“Hmph! Rafe!” You yelped but he cut you off, a particularly sharp thrust making you slide up the mattress. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna fill you. Gonna ruin every other man for you.” He spat, his voice raspy and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he chased his high. 

“Please Rafe, give it to me. Want it so bad!” Well that fucking did it. A moan rumbled in Rafe’s throat as he spilled himself inside you. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung wide open. He snapped his hips, one, two more times before he sat still with a long breath. 

You laid speechless, blinking softly as you tried to slow your racing heart, and process that this actually happened. Sixteen year-old you would totally freak out. Rafe Cameron just fucked the life out of you. Rafe was looking down at you with a pussy-drunk look, his eyes slightly closed and his lips were parted. Not that you could see him that well. Your glasses were so smudged and foggy all you could see was blurry shapes. 

“I just fucked you dumb and you’re making that face?” Rafe narrowed his eyes at you as leaned on his forearms, holding up his weight as your legs fell to either side of him. You frowned at him, confused. 

“What face?”

“You’re pouting and shit.” He smirked, squeezing your face between his fingers and you shot him a pointed look, groaning. 

“I forgot to take off my glasses. They’re all dirty now. Can’t see shit.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your face away from his grip as you took your glasses off and tossed them on your nightstand. 

“Well you looked cute and shit so. You’re fine.” He pressed a kiss to your pouty lips before laying down beside you, the feeling of your mixed release making you hiss softly. 

Rafe lied with an arm behind his head and he couldn’t help but grin when he caught you looking at him with your lip pulled between your teeth. He nudged you over with his head and you happily settled underneath his arm with your head resting on his chest. You didn’t take him for a cuddling type but you’d happily take this.

You sighed heavily, just wanting to rest your sore muscles for a bit when you heard him speak again. 

“So are you gonna follow me back on insta now or what?” 

[etz-ashashiyot]

All trolling and drive-by harassment aside, I do want to elaborate on the statement that the people harassing random Jews over Israel (and for that matter, the right-wingers harassing random Palestinians or Arabs over Hamas) absolutely do have a part in making this war worse and do need to take responsibility for it. (Will they? No. But those of us on the side of rationality, humanity, and peace need to hold them accountable.)

Here's the thing: when you pump out misinformation, disinformation, harass people who are not at the levers of control, deny proven atrocities, leverage people's cultural trauma against them, and/or gaslight them about any such behavior, you are actively participating in polarizing these communities against each other, when really we have a lot more in common than anyone seems to want to recognize.

Any legitimate peace process is going to be messy, requires nuance, a lot of grace, and overall is going to hinge on a lot of deeply traumatized and radicalized people letting go of and forgiving things no one should ever be asked to forgive. The more you polarize our communities, the more hatred you sow, the more you encourage and inflame outlandish maximalist ideas that are likely impossible and would require mass atrocities to accomplish in any event, the harder you make an already extremely difficult and delicate conversation.

And while I can't speak for anyone else, sowing hatred of Jews throughout the diaspora absolutely leads to people attacking us. Multiple people have already died because of this rampant, unchecked antisemitism. It is literally killing us.

So yes, if you engage in these behaviors, you do have blood on your hands.

[garkgatiss]

Look. I am tired of catching strays on this. If you're going to invoke the Secret Fourth Sherlock Episode in relation to your own fandom's unhinged post-finale copium behavior, you need to know your fandom history.

Specifically, you need to realize that the origin of the Secret Fourth Episode idea came from a BFI screening Q&A -- specifically a journalist (for RadioTimes, unless my memory fails me) asking the showrunners about the possibility of a Secret Fourth Episode. The Q&A where this hypothesis was first floated took place three days before the finale had actually aired. In response to this question, the showrunners laughed and denied it, but joked that the hypothetical episode could be called "The Lost Special", a reference to The Story of the Lost Special, a crypto-Holmesian detective story about a missing train written by Conan Doyle during the hiatus between The Final Problem and The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Again: the hypothetical fourth Sherlock episode had been given a title by the showrunners three days before anyone except a screening audience had even seen the third episode. The idea, outlandish as it was, had originated with a question from a professional media beat reporter. The answer to that question was one of the few tidbits from the Q&A granted immediate release and not embargoed until after the episode aired.

In the lead up to the finale, this was absolutely mystifying information to receive -- why on earth would a journalist be asking about a secret fourth episode??? After seeing the finale (first when a leaked Russian dub was inexplicably shared by official BBC accounts for some fucking reason, then the official broadcast), the idea that they were attempting to prime hardcore fans for some kind of insane media stunt became one possible explanation.

All this to say: I was there, Gandalf. I watched the premiere of Apple Tree Yard with the best of them, feeling like a lunatic before, during, and after. There was a thread of reasoning that led us there, however tenuous, and it turns out watching a random show that is definitely not a Secret Sherlock Fourth Episode while feeling like a lunatic is still a pretty harmless place to be led in order to rule out a tenuous hypothesis about a tv show.

But if your other fandom's finale debacle doesn't even have a hypothetical title for its secret episode direct from a showrunner's mouth announced three days before you have any reason to think there might be a need for one, your fandom has less a foundation than any Secret Sherlock Fourth Episode theorists did.

[buggachat]

Kagami is soooooo clearly autistic and i think most people agree on this so I think we sleep on the fact that Adrien is like the only person in the show (besides Félix ig, but you can apply this to him as well) who immediately got her. like Adrien and Kagami are on a wavelength. like everyone thought Kagami was awkward and weird and didn't understand her but Adrien just thought she was cool and nice. I'm almost positive that if a character commented to Adrien about Kagami being "weird" he literally wouldn't understand what they were referring to. Kagami commented all the time about how similar her and Adrien were and how that made them perfect for each other. Marinette, the other person who Adrien clearly super vibes with and gets along super well with, is also commonly agreed upon to be ADHD. The most Adrien thought of Marinette's extremely outlandish behavior around him was that it was "sweet and just her charm" (literally his words to Kagami in Protection). In general there's almost a trend in the show where the more openly neurodivergent a character is the more Adrien seems to vibe with them and is comfortable around them. Adrien is not neurotypical in this essay i will

[sageshouldknowbetter]

In Defense of Mark S

Post S2E4, Helly is going to be mad at Mark. I can’t see a way around it. He not only didn’t know someone else was “behind the wheel” of her body, he continued romantic pursuing of that person… thinking it was her.

But though Helly has valid reasons to be angry, a) victim blaming isn’t okay and b) I can totally see why Mark didn’t realize something was amiss!

First: impossibility and sheer absurdity. To Mark S, it would be unthinkable for an outie to ever enter the severed floor. That’s a violation of his universal laws, immutable as gravity.

Water is wet. Coffee cups fall down when you knock them off the table. And outies do NOT come down to the severed floor, because the chips are spatially triggered.

And sure, he knows about the OTC and that it’s theoretically possible — but why would any outie want to, and why would Lumon ever LET them? If he ever thought, “Oh, Helly’s acting strange,” Mark’s mind would go through a million different logical steps before landing on something outlandish as that.

Maybe she’s sad she was alone when she woke up during the OTC. Maybe she’s just having a bad week. Maybe she’s acting differently around him because of their first kiss. The idea that she’s being possessed by another being? Never would have occurred to him!

Remember how his outie plays into this as well. Irving B has the subconscious of some kind of anti-Lumon revolutionary with the paranoia that only comes from a military background. (“She’s a mole!”) Of course he clocked her.

But Mark? Mark Scout a) doesn’t know the entire family of his CEO, and b) has the subconscious of a history professor grieving his wife. While Irving’s outie’s knowledge bled through to him in the subconscious of his dream, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark’s subconscious was actively TRYING to suppress any suspicious thoughts.

Of course it’s Helly. It NEEDS to be Helly. Because Mark’s brain is tired of grieving. His subconscious will shut down any accusations that she’s acting differently and cling to the idea because she CAN’T be gone, right? It’s not happening again… right?

And then we circle back to the first kiss. Mark S is in love — head over heels — with Helly R. He’s trying to find Gemma, sure, but that’s for his outie’s happiness, not his own.

If you’ve had one, do you remember your first crush? Remember the butterflies in your stomach and how much you were laser-focused on your own behavior? “What should I say?” “How do I look?” “Am I being weird? Why is she looking at me like that?” Mark S doesn’t notice Helly R is off because he’s too busy worrying about how he comes across to her. And because he has no idea she’s Helena, he has every reason to believe that’s how she’s thinking about him, too! He thinks they’re both dorks in love trying to figure things out. Irving doesn’t have this disadvantage — he’s on the outside and can see everything play out.

All I’m saying is I get it. I hope Helly at least kind of gets it too. What I’m wondering is, will Mark even tell Helly about his assault? Will he hide it out of some misguided belief that it would make her even more angry? Will she yell at him, not knowing that he’s a victim of someone wearing her own face? Much to think about.

[applebees4prez]

humanity doesn’t truly exist in sitcoms. in comedic pieces of television, the heightened reality often resolves in extreme characters. their outlandish behavior may correlate with symptoms of autism and adhd. in this essay i will prove that each of the four main characters in big time rush are neurodivergent.

[dizzy-izzy-in-a-tizzy]

Izzy's behavior during OFMD 1x4 was exactly what he should have done as First Mate. Meanwhile, Edward's behavior was a failure of leadership.

The creative parts of leadership are 100% within Edward's role as Captain. He has the vision, he formulates the plans, he makes the decisions.

Meanwhile, as First Mate, Izzy's role is to execute those plans: cleaning up the details, taking any heat from the crew, et cetera.

What happened in the episode? Well...

Throughout the episode, Izzy asks Edward what the plan is to deal with the Spanish—a mortal threat against their lives.

When Edward's ultimate answer is that he's tired of the the same thing over and over, Izzy says that without a plan they're going to die, and Edward's response is, "Let's try that."

Izzy does the very fucking reasonable thing, as First Mate, of trying to get a plan together so they won't die. This is outside the purview of his normal role, but sometimes the plan offered to you by leadership is 'nothing' and you have to cobble together whatever the fuck you can.

Edward eventually reveals that he had a plan all along, but because of his refusal to communicate that plan with anyone, a critical error is left uncaught—one that Izzy catches the moment he has the opportunity.

Ultimately, Izzy's concerns are proven right, when Blackbeard's refusal to communicate nearly gets them all killed.

Failing to understand the very real frustration of Izzy Hands in this situation honestly seems like a lack of life experience—particularly functioning on teams with a lot of creative vision and low attention to detail.

Attention to detail isn't fun. It's boring, time consuming and often a slog. However, it's clear that Edward and Izzy made a good pair because Edward had the creativity to come up with outlandish, off the wall, genius ideas that made him an incredible captain—and Izzy could play the exact role of first mate, cleaning up the details, being the asshole that got the crew to work, and ultimately executing the plan put forward by the person with the vision.

(This is also why Izzy is so bad at taking on direct leadership—the skillsets overlap, but ultimately being Captain requires skills he doesn't have, and skills that are contradictory to being an effective First Mate.)

[sleepy-cone]

I like to think TimBern is "When you find someone who matches your freak" but in opposite directions.

Tim seems normal on the outside. Just your average yet capable guy. Polite to people he meets and respectful to people he sees day to day. However, he has the most outlandish freaky ass lore that you randomly unlock without any warning, and part of you wishes that you didn't because you need plausible deniabilty, and that was a CRIME, Tim!

Bernard will outright say unhinged things about the shadow government to any and every authority figure he meets in broad daylight. And completely unprompted, ask people, "Do you dare me to [insert crazy idea]?? Someone dare me!!" But then he's just casually at home on a Friday night trying to perfect a soup recipe he got from Pinterest and doing a jigsaw puzzle while the pot simmers for 30 minutes.

Tim and Bern about each other: "He is the normalcy I need in my life."

Eveyone who knows them: "...The scales you both use to measure what you define as NORMAL is skewed due to past traumas and should not be the default method of assessing proper social behavior".

Tim and Bernard: "... Yeah, but he's like really cute though."

[rednightmare18]

Sometimes I really do believe writers overthink and over-reseach what we (often falsely) perceive to be "realistic" to the detriment of how vital and marvelous the weird and extreme are in fiction... and how common the weird and extreme are in life.

I have observed this a lot in regard to how fandom talks about Hans and Henry's romantic throughline, especially re: what is perceived by our comparatively comfortable 21st century ordinary as "realistic" love, affection, sex, and comportment. This is especially true in how we tend to discuss Suchdol and onward.

The thing, though, is that these characters' present circumstances are decidedly outside the daily and mundane, either ours or theirs. Their perception and valuation of what is acceptable is very, very different from not only ours but from what their own might be in more normal circumstances.

They exist and their romance flowers in an environment of the sustained extreme. And that changes everything - canonically, I would argue - by letting the weird and honest flourish as the constraints of what is normally "realistic" crumble.

So rather than hyperfocus on what you and I think is rational and moderate, "likely" behavior, consider instead how depicting the extreme and its effects on its subjects' interaction with the world makes for its own deeper, weirder form of realism.

Before you dismiss an idea as "too emotional" or "too open" for a man in the 1400s, really think and empathize first: Have you ever loved someone with such fierce insanity that you would volunteer your body to be bloody ripped limb from limb rather than allow him to be taken from you? What do you suppose this does to the wiring of your brain when it happens more than once and the threat is recurring?

Before you dismiss an idea as "too alien" or "too gross" or "too offensive" for the characters in question (have you actually researched this within a period context, btw?), consider: Would these characters feel the same way after wiping human guts off their bodies? Would their thresholds of what is weird and offensive change?

In our very real world, bodies & minds under duress are often react in bizarre ways we think are improbable or upsetting in more normal contexts. It's not clean or convenient. But it's real, and this more intensive level of honesty (maybe: outlandish realism) that scratches at discomfort is what does such a good job of reminding us that we are human animals on a spinning watery rockball together.

Moreover - when the concept of death, yours and others, is on the table on a daily basis, the concept of mundane and normal shifts massively, and all else with it.

My point is, in fiction in general but especially in historical fiction where we as writers are more susceptible to the whoopsie of this false-realism: Don't be so beholden to what is supposedly realistic in everyday circumstances that you lose the more humbling, more powerful realism of what happens to a person living the extreme.