#the impressions i get here are fucking BLEAK

[heartbeatbookclub]

There's a lot of ambiguity present in DDLC, and although + does elaborate on a lot of it, it presents some new ambiguity, too. I've already discussed the Protagonist and his entire existence, but I think something people don't even really think about is Natsuki's home life.

In case that doesn't make it obvious, CW: this mini-essay is going to talk a lot about abuse. Take care of yourselves.

Within the original Doki Doki Literature Club, there's an inherent uncertainty in the actual degree to which Monika is personally manipulating the other girls. It's somewhat unclear whether or not Monika is directly manufacturing unappealing traits to give to everyone else, or if she's just exaggerating problems that were already there to the point of catastrophe. In other words, it's unclear as to exactly how much of the game from its outset was something which would happen naturally, or an element of Monika's manipulation.

I think that Plus simultaneously plays into this ambiguity and clarifies a lot of it. There are definitely gray areas left, but the Side Stories in particular answer a lot of questions.

I think what the Side Stories are intent on doing is showcasing all of the girls as characters independent of any potential 4th wall/Monika meddling, and it answers a lot of questions regarding the true depth of each of the girls independent of that manipulation. This includes Monika, actually, and I think what it displays is that Monika's manipulation is far reaching, but she worked with material which was already there.

I've already discussed how the Protagonist is implied to exist within the Side Stories, but vitally, the Side Stories indicate the raw personality (and problems, motivations, etc) of every one of the girls. This includes Monika, and I think makes for a very interesting character study for how Monika became who she is in the main game. That's something I played with a good bit in Coil, if you haven't read it. Monika isn't aware she's being watched and in fact isn't aware of any of the nature of her reality, and thusly puts significantly more of who she actually is as a flawed person on display.

I'm digressing, but only a little bit. Something else this clarifies is the question I asked earlier regarding whether or not Monika was explicitly adding negative traits to the other girls, though it isn't an exact answer: Sayori does have a lot of the same mental health issues displayed in the main game, though clearly not to the same degree. Yuri clearly demonstrates a more obsessive personality, but it's in more of an autistic hyperfixation "I am incredibly passionate about my interests and will talk about them for hours if you don't shut me up" kind of way. I think there's definitely still some factors which are up in the air about Yuri (knives...that's all I'll say), but I think it's clear to see the basis of what was done to her here.

And Natsuki is, well...still pretty ambiguous.

I should be clear; Natsuki's raw personality is still very readily apparent here, and it does do a great deal of exploration of her character, showcasing the real depth of who she is and why she acts the way she does, but there is one critical question which isn't explicitly referred to.

The obvious thing you're thinking of, probably because I mentioned it at the start. Any reference to Natsuki's home life is absent, and it was all I could think about throughout the entirety of her story.

What it's instead "replaced" by in this instance is bullying from a toxic group of mean girls esque "friends". I put replaced in quotes because they are clearly what the emphasis is placed on in lieu of an explicitly bad home life, but I'm not sure I'd call them a one to one replacement. (I put friends in quotes, because...well.)

To be more specific, I'm not sure they're a replacement at all. I think what they are is more a suggestion of deeper issues Natsuki has.

I think Natsuki's behavior and overall attitude when talking about her other friends is very telling with regards to how she views relationships in general. Her immediate knee-jerk reaction whenever anyone says anything negative about them is to, in the first place, minimize anything they did or said as "just playing around", or "making fun of something stupid". Her next response is to immediately place the blame on herself for being so sensitive.

The way she immediately seeks to dismiss and push off any attempts to address any issues with how her friends treat her is heart-wrenching, and constantly blaming herself for responding poorly is doubly so. I think it's also behavior we'd commonly expect of people undergoing abuse, and I'll be frank in saying that I think that her relationship with these people isn't just toxic, it's outright emotionally abusive.

But being in one destructive relationship doesn't necessarily mean she's in another, does it? What is it about this entire situation in particular that leads me to believe there's something deeper here?

It's maybe a little bit of a stretch, but follow me here.

I think Natsuki demonstrates that she is attached to these people, despite their actions toward her. Her immediate defense of their actions, the particular way she chooses to defend them, and her intense fear to even the prospect of cutting them off tell me she doesn't want to let them go. Even further, I'd say her immediate response being to defend them when others attack them is multifaceted, and I think that one of those facets is that someone pointing out how her friends shouldn't treat her that way is probably giving voice to a feeling Natsuki herself has. I think one of the reasons she's so quick to defend them is in order to suppress her own urge to say something.

But why is she so hesitant to say something in the first place?

She doesn't want them to leave her.

This is something which, on the surface, might sound a little strange, but I think more than anything else, greater than any fear of the abuse she might endure at the hands of these heartless weirdos, is a crippling fear of being alone.

There are various things I think underline this trait, big and small (I mean, she outright brings it up when she talks about cutting them off), but I think her entire attitude regarding her friends is representative of someone who desperately wants attention from someone, anyone, whether positive or not. The reason she places all of the blame on herself and defends all of their actions is because she thinks if she brings it up at all, they won't want to hang out with her anymore. She's the problem, because she can't bring herself to put up with it, but she doesn't want them to leave her.

And I think that this, in conjunction with a lot of other elements to her personality, indicate that Natsuki likely doesn't have a very kind home life, either.

I think the biggest thing that illustrates this to me is her sheer willingness to treat the entire situation as normal. To everybody else looking at Natsuki's situation from the outside, particularly as she describes and defends a variety of their actions, it's blatantly obvious what's happening, and Natsuki finds herself confused not only over how other people respond, but how she herself feels.

The amount of time she spends excusing the emotional torment they put her through, and her constant insistence that this is normal, and that she's perfectly fine, she just needs to grow a thicker skin, demonstrate to me that Natsuki doesn't really have a good concept of what "normal" is. I don't think this is all just a conscious denial of reality; I think she genuinely has trouble understanding what's wrong with the situation, beyond that they're acting mean towards her.

"It's just the way things are!"

"I'm the only one who ever has a problem with it."

I think her ready ability to normalize this kind of abuse speaks volumes to how she views relationships in general. I think this is indicative that she doesn't have many good models for what a "normal", healthy relationship would be.

I think that a lot of Natsuki's broader personality, particularly in how she responds to the situation with her friends, and Monika and Sayori's attempts to connect with her, is a pretty fair indication that she doesn't really have a good space outside of her interactions with people at school.

I'm, rather ironically, finding it increasingly difficult to really express everything which showcases it to me in a way which all fits together nicely, but I think if nothing else, that's the point I really want to drive home. It really seems to me based on the way that Natsuki acts that at the very least, she doesn't have a good, safe space at home.

If she did, she would have a much better point of reference for all of this, and I don't think she would be so quick to trap herself in this situation. I think that a big reason she turns to the Literature Club and is so insistent on trying to be friends with everybody in it, despite herself, despite all of the problems and conflicts they have, is because she's desperately searching for a safe place where she can just be herself.

I think she constantly feels like she needs to be on the defensive--in my opinion, a big part of why she finds it so hard to just be nice, outside of something simple like baking for other people, is because her only experience is other people being mean to her, and needing to make a biting comment back. I think that's also why it's so difficult for her to accept others being kind to her: She is so used to just shutting out other people and ignoring them because they're mean to her, that when someone is nice to her, despite her desire to accept it and return it in kind, she instinctively snaps at it, because if she lets anyone in, if she shows any sign of vulnerability, someone will hurt her. Maybe she'll have to admit that the other things people said hurt her, too.

It's like a feral kitten instinctively clawing and biting at the hand of someone just trying to pet it. It's so unusual to them that someone could touch them for any reason other than to hurt them that they feel the need to strike first, until they eventually realize there's nothing to be afraid of.

I think that all of this, in conjunction with how everything else in the Side Stories is presented in reference to the original game, suggest that Natsuki likely doesn't have a very good situation at home.

I think it's vitally important to acknowledge that most people's perception of Natsuki's home life, if it's at all fleshed out, is based on fanon, not canon, similarly to how this whole analysis is really just fan theorizing, and not necessarily 100% accurate. While there are certainly some things explicitly said in the main game, we don't know all of the particulars which go into her home life, and I think this is another example of intentional gaps left by canon that I talked about in my blurb on the Protagonist.

In this case, from what we're able to glean about Natsuki's home, her father is the main parental figure in her life (At the very least, there is no mention of her mother {to my knowledge, it's been a while since I played it}), and from Act 1, he's implied to be extremely strict. Details here are actually one of the reasons I assume this to be correct, because explicitly, Natsuki keeps her manga collection in the clubroom because she doesn't want her dad to find it. In Act 2, this is pushed even further, which is where we get a certain famous line about him physically abusing her, but of course, it's more likely that this is Monika's doing.

I think it's virtually impossible to get an actual understanding of Natsuki's home situation in the Side Stories, because...well, they don't bring it up, but I think it's safe to say that there is reason to believe it's not good. I think it isn't as bad as it is in Act 2, but judging by how things play out in Natsuki's story across the Side Stories...well, let's just say I'm glad she has the Literature Club.

I think excluding any mention of this is probably intentional too, and not because it's an intentional gap being left. I think it would be incredibly out of character based on what we've seen of Natsuki here for her to bring it up at all, both because of her warped sense of normal, and because she wouldn't want everybody around her worrying about it.

This is a subject for fanfiction, I think. Is that foreshadowing? Who knows.

#cw: abuse #i think i should've spent more time emphasizing how Yuri and Natsuki are reflections of each other like how Monika and Sayori are #but i just really wanted to talk about this #when I say 'this is all i could think about' i meant it #my biggest initial thought watching them was 'natsuki's ability to so easily justify this abuse makes me think it's not her first time' #the impressions i get here are fucking BLEAK #i don't necessarily think i'm an expert on this or on abuse so i guess i'm open to further discussion of this #but i just got the vibes yknow? #doki doki literature club #ddlc #musings #ddlc natsuki

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian Angel

Part 1/3 Part 2

A/N: Starting a series where f!reader is the child of a demon and a human and Adam’s been tasked with keeping an eye on her. Please leave requests!

“It has recently come to my attention that a demon and a human have reproduced,” Sera announced. 

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “No shit. For real?”

“The spawn is already grown. So far she hasn’t caused any trouble so I do not see the need for actions further than simply keeping an eye on her.”

“Okay and what does that have to do with me?” Adam asked, taking a long sip from his drink.

“You’re going to watch her.”

Adam spit out his drink. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re going to be her guardian angel,” Sera smirked. Adam’s jaw dropped idignantly. “Do I have to?” He whined.

“Yes.”

That’s how Adam found himself on Earth, stalking some random demon/human hybrid.

Although despite his apathy, she wasn’t just some random, a demon/human hybrid was almost unheard of. She was the third documented instance of that happening.

But as far as he could tell, she led a boring, painfully bleak life. Adam almost felt bad for her. She seemed really depressed. But his job was getting boring. Her routine was always the same. Work, sleep, eat, shower. It seemed that the hybrid was completely unaware of her origin and the powers she possessed. It made Adam’s job easy. Easy and boring.

He started fucking with her, using his ability to be invisible to the human eye in order to fuck with things in her apartment to mess with her head.

One day, while her roommate was out, she stood in the middle of her room, staring at nothing. “Come out you annoying fuck!” She called out. It took Adam by surprise. “I know someone is here,” she hissed. “And you’ve been fucking with me, and it’s pissing me off, and I know you’re here right now, so show yourself!”

Adam debated for a moment. Sera had just said to watch over her, she’d never said it had to be no contact. In fact, Adam was pretty sure Sera would prefer he try to bring the hybrid to the light, but she chose the wrong angel for that task.

Tired of watching her while she was unawares, Adam let himself appear to her. He appeared behind her, just to fuck with her one more time. She turned and jumped, and Adam snickered. To his surprise, she recovered rather quickly.

“What the fuck are you?”

Adam was once again taken aback, and then offended. “I’m an angel, babes, could you not tell by the halo and wings?”

“Well you look like a demon," she replied.

Adam scoffed indignantly. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Who are you and why have you been following me?”

“I’m Adam. Like, first man ever, Adam.”

“Wow, I’m so impressed.”

“And who the fuck are you, bitch?”

“Shouldn’t you know that since you’ve been following me?”

Adam was seething. “Yeah well I didn’t give enough of a shit to remember your name when Sera told me.”

The hybrid narrowed her eyes. Adam narrowed his. The attitude on this bitch! He hadn’t seen such life in her in the weeks he’d been watching her. He definitely didn’t enjoy seeing her come to life like this. Totally not (he did).

“Well you might as well tell me cause you’re stuck with me now that you can see me.” Adam smirked.

She huffed. “(Name). I’m (Name). Why am I stuck with you?”

“Because my job is to follow you, babe, orders from the Seraphim herself.”

“But why?”

Adam thought about fucking with her for a moment, before spitting out the truth. “Because you’re a Cambion, and Cambions are dangerous.”

(Name) blinked at him. “The fuck is a Cambion?”

“A demon/human love child.”

“What, so you’re saying one of my parents is a demon and I’m like, half a demon?”

“Basically.”

They stood in silence for a moment while (Name) processed this information.

“So,” Adam broke the silence. “What’s for dinner?”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #x reader #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel

[fushitism]

we call them

"undertale neutral endings!!! teehee! >_<"

but then they turn out to be arguably worse and far more chilling than the officially designated bad ending

like, ok, dont get me wrong, it's impressive there are so many variations in dialogue and scenarios

the sheer thought and care put into this game is staggering, i dont think anyone can ever discredit that regardless of ur stance on the game as a whole

but Also.

what. the. fuck.

the desolation...

the hoplessness

the utter bleakness of it all..........

THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING NEUTRAL ABOUT ANY OF THIS?!?!?

and why do i feel like neutral endings have the rawest lines ever?

im completely floored by this one.

for these words to come out of ALPHYS, of alll people?!!! Absolute Cinema.

and the normal talk sprite being used here made it all the more horrifying and impactful, for me personally. holy shit!!1!1!1?

you should have, alphys, you really should have.

EUWHEUEH?1!2? no the fuck i WILL NOT be seeing ya, sans.

thanks for the offer though

haha! ohh, well ain't that just bone-chilling? [badum tss]......

no, seriously, im abt to shit myself STOP

alarming implications aside, sans just has the best quotes ever. sry abt ur friends but ure soo real, boneman!

and again, you will nawt be seeing me, sans. put down that gaster blaster

......... resetting at speeds surpassing that of Light.

and to see this on ur screen after choosing to kill flowey (neutral run)........

my shivers have been sufficiently timbered, oh my LORDD. dont just CASUALLY say that to me?1!1! THE FUCK U LOOKING SO CRAZY FOR1?1?!

#undertale #flowey undertale #flowey #sans #sans undertale #undertale sans #alphys #alphys undertale #undertale alphys #toby fox #neutral run #not so neutral methinks #i love this game can u tell

[bleue-flora]

Yo! Just noticed it’s the anniversary of when I finished my second fanfic Dreamcatcher, which is the work I actually started to lean into writing fanfiction (since my first work I really just wrote for myself before being encouraged to share it).

So, in honor of that, here is some of the original second nightmare which was actually written from Dream’s pov before I ended up changing it to Punz’s.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Referenced Torture, Blood, Death, Injuries, Profanity.

Dream is wet and panting, in a puddle of watery red flowing into an equally crimson pond to his side, where the non diluted liquid gets thicker.

There’s white fur stuck in it as the body of a dog, slashed to bits lies there next to him. Both sitting in the despairing silence of the box.

Tears form in the corners of his eyes and his vision gets blurry, but he doesn’t let them fall. He just exhales.

Why does everything die around him? Why does everything he dare to care a smidge about get taken from him?

As if to follow his thoughts, the white turns to black. The fluffy bloodied dog shifts into a cat that’s long since stopped breathing. Dream turns his head, and faintly smirks at the sight of the additional body sprawled out on the floor next to him.

He mutters to the corpse under his breath, rolling his eyes, “To be fair, you were being a bitch. Like don’t blame me, you know you d—deserved it… I mean I lasted like—how long before beating your head in? That’s pretty impressive—pretty fucking impressive, you know.”

Tommy’s unmoving body doesn’t respond, just stays there, unmoving and uncharacteristically quiet. His face swollen and bruised, not unlike the innocent cat he beat to death.

Then his body evaporates and Dream finds himself in a new room, accented with black walls and bedrock. It’s detail is perfectly ominous like he wanted.

He’s kneeling, unguarded by armor with an audience of people surrounding him. His heart beats rapidly threatening to burst out of his chest at the danger. But he ignores it.

Indignant, Tommy rips off the mask that always covers his face. Exposing his pale skin to the cool air and the venomously judging faces.

Despite the frustration at his denial of privacy, he doesn’t so much as dignify it with a flinch. It was expected. He was ready. He’s not about to show weakness in front of a crowd.

They are silent as the axe lands, and lands again before lady death finally embraces him.

They are silent as the sword finds its place in his chest and he falls to the ground, bleeding out into the cold stone beneath him.

It’s ok. He knew this would happen. It was expected, it was planned. He didn’t know they’d kill him twice, but it’s fine.

On one life, he makes his way back down with sharp pain running through his veins. Somehow it seems duller than the pain in the prison cell, though it can’t have been less excruciating.

Tommy once again stands above him savagely firing arrows away. As they pierce his flesh and bone, he searches the cold faces around him and listens intently, hoping to hear one sound of objection to his approaching final death.

Surely, someone will say something, right? Surely, someone will oppose his final death, right? Surely, they woundn’t let Tommy kill him off in cold blood. Would they?

But there’s nothing from them. Absolutely nothing. Standing there, dripping in blood, he feels his heart entirely disintegrate into nothing. Leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Then suddenly he’s freezing from more than just death and despondency. He’s surrounded by ice. Their pillars, tall and sharp, casting the land in a pointed terrain. Despite the bone chilling air and his frozen insides, he stands, planted to the ground, looking at a sign pinned to the glacier. The wood marking the death of his parrot that travelled so far only to die there.

A deep sigh is released from his lungs and the scene smears into broad strokes of colors. Until a well known bleak room encases him in lava and obsidian again.

Sitting there with nothing but the annoying sounds of the prison to keep him company, he wonders if he’s always destined to lose everything. Was it always going to end up like this? Was he always going to end up alone?

#I swear I do plan on expanding this work into a series… I can’t believe it’s been a year and I still haven’t posted any of related fics… oof #blame bad and techno for claiming me attention lol… anyways I do have lots written so it’s coming… :) #leftovers #c!dream #thank y’all so much for your support. kind words. and for encouraging me to write more and making me feel safe to do so and share it. <3 #writing has been really good for my mental health this past year and not only being allowed to do so #but having people enjoy it has been really really healing for me so thank you so much <3 <3 #thanks for being the first fandom that emboldened me to write fanfic <3 #dreamcatcher #dsmp #dreblr #dsmp dream #for real though… I could have written such good arrow and supernatural and maybe even Loki fanfic if I’d know fandoms could be so supportiv #(and that fanfic isn’t just about ships… XD) #dream smp #dsmp fanfic

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!) ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the fires of unholy week rage still, but perhaps today the sinful and the sweet can mix — consider it a calm before the storm ∼

∼ day four brings us our beloved cop with a heart of gold ♥ Miranda Hilmarson ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #fluff and smut #cunnilingus #vaginal fingering #strap-ons #lesbian sex #bisexual character #gangbang #lesbian gangbang #porn #sex work #triple penetration #double penetration #face-fucking #face-sitting #butt slapping #face slapping #acted-out rape #pretend rape #degradation #verbal humiliation #handcuffs #prison sex #friends to lovers #rape fantasy #multiple orgasms #kink!week

...but we could be (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Miranda is crunching on her cereal.

Very loudly. Robin waits for her to finish eating so she can concentrate. She counts to ten in her mind to calm down. Then she counts to twenty and then to fifty, and Miranda is still fucking eating. It sounds like she’s chewing on her own teeth.

Finally, she snaps. “Hilmarson, will you cut it out?”

“Whaf?” she asks, mouth full, eyes wide. She looks like a kicked puppy.

“The chewing. It’s fucking annoying.”

If Miranda was a puppy, her ears would droop. She looks down at the desk and swallows a mouthful of cereal. “Oh. Sorry.”

Robin returns to typing on her computer. Finally, some fucking peace and quiet—

“I shouldn’t overeat, anyway. I was just so hungry. I’m going to brunch later, you know.”

“Hm,” Robin grumbles, not wanting to incite further conversation — and it works. Miranda is no longer crunching on her goddamn cereal, she’s no longer talking, and Robin can finally work in peace. 

The fucking brunch is bothering her though.

“Since when do you eat brunch?” she can’t help but ask. She never imagined Miranda to be the sort of person who eats brunch.

“Oh, I don’t usually — I only eat brunch with my pornstar friends!”

Robin almost chokes on her own spit. “Your what?”

“My pornstar friends,” she says, beaming.

“Right.” Robin hates that she wants to know more about this. “And those are… friends from school that went on to become pornstars?”

“Oh, no. We know each other from the shoot. I starred in a video, you know.” She sounds proud as she says it.

Robin blinks. “You starred… in a porno?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah! It was like an all-girl gangbang scene in a women’s prison. And all the girls were super nice so we stayed in touch. We get brunch every couple of weeks.”

Robin stopped listening on the gangbang part. She shakes her head. “Hilmarson, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

“I’ve been asked, you know. I was on my way to the gym and this really nice lady approached me and told me they need someone tall for a shoot they’re doing, and asked me if I’d be comfortable filming a sex scene. And I said, depends, you know. I wouldn’t do any piss stuff, that’d be nasty. Then she told me it’s an all girl gangbang scene and I couldn’t believe it! That’s been my fantasy since I was a teen!”

“Your fantasy?” Robin repeats. All of this sounds like a fever dream, and something that could definitely only happen to Miranda.

“Yeah! People have asked me to do sex work before, you know. Because of, well,” she gestures to herself, waving her arms up and down, “this. I’ve been asked to be an escort, but that just seemed, oh, I don’t know. Rather bleak.”

Robin can’t imagine a bleaker job than being a police officer, but she says nothing.

“I usually say no when people ask, though — but I couldn’t say no to this. It was a once in a lifetime chance!”

Robin blinks really, really slowly, trying to process what she just heard. 

Miranda’s face suddenly lights up. “Oh! Oh! I can show you!” 

Robin shakes her head. “What?” she asks, but Miranda is already scooting over to Robin’s desk on her chair. Before Robin knows it, Miranda is sitting next to her and grabbing her keyboard.

“It’s available online. It’s on a payed website, but I have access to it. Just a sec,” she says as she types in the address.

Robin grabs the keyboard from her, and Miranda gives her a wide-eyed look. “Are you fucking mental? You can’t search for porn at a police station! And we certainly can’t watch that here!”

“Oh. Right,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. She seems to genuinely not have thought of that. “Well, we could watch it at my place.”

Robin can’t believe her ears. “Sorry, what?”

“We could watch it at my place,” Miranda repeats. “We can get popcorn and beer, and I can show you.”

Robin scoffs in bewilderment. “I won’t watch your porn, Hilmarson. That’d be weird.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, I’m fine with it. It’s really hot, you know. And it wouldn’t be weird. We wouldn’t like, watch the whole thing. We could just watch the beginning, before the action starts. It’s really cool. All the girls are amazing actresses, it’s really realistic. Well, until the part with the sex toys. There’s no way they could get away with having those in prison.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s no way she’s watching porn with Miranda — especially not Miranda-porn. 

“Oh. Okay,” she says, disappointed, and rolls her chair back to her desk.

They continue to work in silence, but Robin can’t focus. Something’s bothering her.

“I didn’t know you were into girls,” she finally says.

She glances at Miranda, who opens up her drawer and pulls out a bag of chips. Her cereal sits forgotten next to her. 

“It didn’t come up.” Miranda opens the bag and shoves a fistful of chips into her mouth. Robin recoils at the horrifying crunching noise and turns her gaze back to the computer screen.

Miranda crunches on her chips for a couple of seconds before asking a question, Robin doesn’t want to answer — but she supposes it’s fair of Miranda to ask, since Robin was the one who broached the subject.  “Are you into girls, Griffin?”

“Not usually,” she says. She doesn’t really wanna talk about it.

“But sometimes?” Miranda asks, still crunching away.

“I guess.”

She lifts her gaze and finds Miranda looking at her with curiosity, munching on her chips. “I thought you had a bit of a vibe,” Miranda says.

“I don’t have a vibe.”

Miranda shrugs. “Okay. I’m not very good at telling, anyway. Girls like me, you know. I think it’s the height. I rarely have to approach first.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Miranda says. “Want chips?”

“No.”

Robin hears Miranda shove the bag back into the drawer. They both continue to work in silence. Robin’s finding it hard to concentrate on work, but she refuses to stop. Her thoughts wander.

It never occurred to her that Miranda might be into women. She doesn’t know why the thought plagues her. It’s nothing special — many women are into other women. Robin has had… experiences. Not her thing, really. Except that one time — but that was its own sort of disaster.

She always thought Miranda had horrible taste in men. Her brother is a prime example, as well as their boss — just garbage man after garbage man. Women are at least prettier, if nothing else — even when their personalities are garbage. Maybe Miranda would do better finding a nice woman for herself. She hopes her taste in women is better than in men, but her hopes aren’t high — Miranda is sort of a walking disaster with no self-preservation instincts. Who accepts to star in a porno after being approached on the street?

About ten minutes pass in silence. Robin doesn’t work — instead she thinks about Miranda’s love life — and then the very subject of her thoughts interrupts her ruminating by speaking again.

“Hey, wanna have brunch with us? I’d really love for you to meet the girls. You’ll love them, I swear. They’re really nice.”

Unlike Miranda, Robin didn’t have breakfast, nor chips, and she can hear her stomach growling. She should probably eat something.

Ah, what the hell.

“Sure,” she says. 

Miranda squeaks — she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Robin really hopes she won’t regret this.

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“Miranda! Miranda!” a group of five pretty young women squeals from across the restaurant. 

“Ohmygod, hiiii!” Miranda squeals back and scurries towards the girls. She pulls each of them into a bone crushing hug. They all reach up to her shoulders — they are absolutely tiny compared to her. Robin can’t imagine what that fucking video must have looked like.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, Mirandy!” one of them says, squished against Miranda’s chest. 

“I’ve missed you too!”

They all hug and scream and Robin just stands there, feeling like she’s witnessing a sorority girls reunion in an American rom-com. She’s already regretting this. “Everybody, meet Robin,” Miranda says after they’re done screaming, her face beaming in delight. Robin hates to admit that she looks kind of cute, all happy and glowing like this. “She’s gonna join us for brunch today.”

The nearest of the girls goes to pull her in a hug. “Hi, Robin! I’m Tracy.”

Robin scoots away. “Not a hugger. Sorry,” she says.

“Oh,” the girl says, clearly disappointed. 

“Oh, sorry, should’ve told you we are all huggers,” Miranda says to Robin, then turns to the girls. “She always acts all mean, but really she’s a delight. She’s the best partner one could wish for.”

“Work partner,” Robin adds, wanting to make it clear right off the bat that she and Miranda are not involved. They’re not even friends. “We’re work colleagues.”

The rest of the girls introduce themselves a bit more coldly, shaking her hand, and she immediately forgets their names. They’re all eyeing her up and down, studying her — it’s all rather awkward. 

“We should sit down,” Miranda says, smiling, oblivious to the awkwardness, and they all sit down at the big table the girls have already occupied beforehand. Robin spends the brunch eating her food and minding her business. The girls try to include her in the conversation a couple of times, but once they realise she keeps giving one word replies to everything and doesn't speak unless directly spoken to, they slowly give up.

It doesn’t take a particularly observant person to see that the girls absolutely adore Miranda. They’re very touchy-feely with her, they all look at her with wide adoring eyes, and they seem to find her jokes genuinely funny. Robin can see why Miranda likes to hang out with them. Nobody at the police station treats her like that, that’s for sure. 

The entire thing has a bit of a “schoolgirls at a sleepover” vibe, but gayer. All of the girls are very clearly into Miranda — they touch her uniform, ruffle her hair, give her an occasional peck on the cheek — and Miranda just sits there, looking absolutely delighted by everything that’s going on, radiating major golden retriever vibes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that these girls would clearly gladly fuck her again (that much is obvious even to Robin). There’s also lots of giggling and talking about clothes (she didn’t know Miranda was into clothes — but then again she did seem to be delighted by Prada shoes that one time). Robin’s just waiting for them to start braiding each other’s hair. The whole thing makes her uncomfortable, especially the physical affection — and on top of that, she’s never been the girly type. In fact, girls like that bullied her in school. She always thought Miranda was similar in that regard, but it looks like she was wrong. 

She seems to be learning a lot of things about Miranda today.

She can’t wait for the whole thing to be over. The food was good, but not good enough to justify the torturous socialising she, for some unknown reason, willingly subjected herself to. She’s relieved when they all start getting up from the table. 

She tries to move to the side and wait for Miranda to say her goodbyes, hoping no one will talk to her again — and she almost succeeds in her plan.

One of the girls — the one with jet black hair down to her butt and an eyebrow slit (she believes her name is Sydney or maybe Sally) — approaches her. 

“Can I help you?” Robin asks rudely. 

“Yes, actually, you can,” the girl says. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your thing is with Mir and it’s none of my business — I know she likes a tough bitch — but if you break her heart I will fucking cut you, get it?”

Robin scoffs. “What?” 

“You heard me. That girl is a fucking delight. If you dim her light, we will all cut you.

“You might want to think before you threaten me. I’m a police officer,” Robin says, so pissed she doesn’t even try to explain she and Miranda are definitely not an item.

Sally — or Sydney — simply raises an eyebrow and eyes her up and down. “We’ve got contacts in the police, bitch. Watch out.”

And with that, she turns. “Mir-mir!” she yells and hurries towards Miranda. “I didn’t get my hug!”

Robin just watches Miranda hug whatever-her-name-is, shocked, mouth agape. She says nothing further as she and Miranda leave the restaurant. She doesn’t bother to wave at the girls, or even spare them a second glance.

“So? What do you think? Aren’t they amazing?” Miranda asks the second they step onto the street. Her voice is high-pitched with excitement. “With them I feel like I’m finally part of the girl’s club. It’s so nice.”

She doesn’t even look at Miranda, just keeps on walking. Miranda just follows her like a puppy. 

“I didn’t know you were a girly girl.”

“Oh, I never used to be. Girls like them used to bully me in school. And look at me now,” she says proudly. “I really came a long way.”

“It’s because they want to fuck you,” Robin says before she can stop herself.

“Oh, that’s not the only reason. They were really nice to me at the shoot, and they really didn’t have to be. I was very nervous, and they did their best to make me comfortable.”

Robin scoffs. “One of them threatened to, I quote, ‘cut me’ if I break your heart. The one with black hair.”

“Oh, Samantha?”

(Okay — so neither Sydney nor Sally.)

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Miranda says carefully. “It’s just something you say.”

“Yeah, when people are an item. But you and I are not an item.” 

“Oh, they know that.”

Robin stops walking and looks Miranda in the eyes. “Do they?”

Miranda just laughs. “Yeah! You told them, and then I told them again.” 

She pauses for a second. 

“Besides, I know you wouldn’t spare me a second glance,” she adds and gives Robin a little smile — the smile of a person who’s used to not getting picked first and is completely okay with it. For some reason, it breaks Robin’s heart.

She frowns. “It’s not that I wouldn’t.”

Miranda’s eyes light up. “You would? Okay, so like, if you didn’t know me, and we met randomly at a bar, would you buy me a drink?”

Robin sighs and starts walking again. “I don’t know, Hilmarson. Maybe. I’d have to be drunk.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, I’d be drunk too!” she says and happily scurries after her. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I’d totally let you buy me a drink.”

Robin says nothing further. They walk in silence for a while until they reach the police station.

When Miranda goes to enter the building, Robin stops her. “Wait,” she says. 

Miranda turns and looks at her with those big, blue, puppy eyes. “Yes?”

Robin doesn’t know what possessed her. 

“If I agree to see the video, do you promise to tell those girls once and for all that we are not together?”

“Oh, you don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to. And they know we’re not together.”

“Tell them again.”

“Okay, sure,” she says.

They stand like that for a long moment, neither of them moving. “Uh… do you want to… see the video?” Miranda finally asks, confused.

Robin purses her lips. “It will plague me if I don’t. But we stop at the actual porn part.”

Miranda’s entire face lights up. “Of course,” she chirps. “Oh, I’ll get snacks and everything, it’s gonna be so much fun, I promise! Come to mine around eight?”

“Sure.”

She ignores Miranda the rest of the day, but Miranda is in such a good mood that she doesn't seem to mind — or notice — at all.

Robin doesn’t know why she did it. She supposes it’s her morbid curiosity — or perhaps it’s that sometimes she gets awfully lonely in her flat at night, and she would appreciate some company. Miranda is obnoxious, but she’s the only person that Robin didn’t manage to chase away with her foul attitude — not for the lack of trying. 

Miranda is not someone Robin would normally pick as a friend, but she has to admit that Miranda is a very good friend. Robin knows she could count on her if needed — and now that she thinks about it, if her place was burning down, Miranda would be the first person she’d call — because she knows Miranda would answer. 

Miranda has shit taste in men, but maybe Robin has shit taste in friends. And maybe she needs someone like Miranda to keep her at least somewhat fit for society. Without her, she’d become a true hermit. 

…

Still — is it weird to watch porn with a work colleague? 

She decides not to dwell on it — she already agreed to the thing, anyway. And it’s Miranda — there’s no way it could lead to anything sexual. Worst case scenario, it’ll be awkward, and then they’ll never mention it again.

With that thought, she closes the subject in her mind and continues to work undisturbed until the end of her shift.

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When Miranda opens the door that evening, she’s grinning from ear to ear. Robin can’t get an image of an excited puppy out of her head. 

“Hiii!” she says, moving aside so Robin can enter. Robin’s eyes wander to her flimsy, almost see-through T-shirt. 

“Couldn’t you have found a proper shirt to put on?” she grumbles, moving past her and walking towards the living room. She knows where everything is — after all, all the apartments in this building are more or less the same. 

Miranda glances down towards her own chest. “Oh, I just forgot. These are my PJs.” She scurries after Robin, following her to the couch. “Why, Griffin? You into me?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear. “You wanna daaaate me and make loooooove to me?”

Robin sits down and on the couch, crossing her arms and legs. Miranda plops down on the couch next to her, making kissing noises into the air. The couch bounces with the force of Miranda’s weight being thrown on it. 

“If you continue to be weird about this, I will leave.”

She won’t leave. Robin hates to admit it, but she’s feeling a bit weepy tonight. She would really appreciate some human contact — but she will be grumpy about it

“If it really bothers you, I can change,” Miranda says. 

“Forget it,” Robin grumbles. 

“Okay. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She could use a beer. Or seven. She can’t believe she’s about to watch Miranda’s fucking porno — even if it is only the intro.

Miranda disappears into the kitchen and quickly comes back with two opened beers and a bucket of popcorn. She puts the popcorn on the little coffee table in front of the couch and hands one beer to Robin. “Here you go. Do you want a glass?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She takes a big swig.

“Someone’s thirsty,” Miranda says as she sits down, taking a sip as well. She makes herself comfortable, lifting her long legs (that, Robin notices, look even longer and leaner in the black tights she’s wearing) onto the couch and crossing them. The way she moves, all tall and lanky, reminds Robin of a baby deer. 

“It’s just been a day,” Robin says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “Has it? You typed on your laptop and had brunch.”

Robin shrugs, staring at the bowl of popcorn on the table, not looking at Miranda or her flimsy fucking shirt. “Well, it’s been a day in my brain, I guess.”

“Oh. I get it. I have those too, sometimes. You PMS-ing?”

Robin takes another swig of her beer. “None of your business.”

“So grumpy,” Miranda tuts. “So, you wanna get right to it? I have it all set up on the TV.”

“Sure.”

Robin drinks her beer, feeling a bit fragile. Maybe she is about to get her period. She shouldn’t for another two weeks, but maybe it’s early. Being with someone really helps, though — and so does the beer.

Miranda grabs the remote from the coffee table and fumbles with it a little bit. “Okay, so it’s connected to the tablet… alright, here we go.”

A big title appears on the screen. 

Girlbang series production — Fun In Prison

  Robin already regrets this. “I still can’t believe you agreed to that. You’re a police officer. Did they at least blur your face?”

Miranda presses pause. “Oh, they asked me if I wanted them to, and I said no.”

Robin chokes on her beer. “Why?”

“Oh, I just think it’d ruin the viewer’s experience. Besides, it’s on a paid website. Nobody in their right mind pays for porn.” She cranes her head towards Robin and Robin finally makes eye contact. She tries very hard not to stare at her chest. It’s not that Miranda has such amazing tits, it’s just that you can’t just not look at someone’s tits if they’re right fucking there. “Have you ever paid for porn?”

“No?” Robin says.

“Precisely.”

Robin scoffs, and then chuckles. “So. Wanna tell me about the plot?”

“Oh, yes!” She bounces on the couch, grinning excitedly, her eyes twinkling. Robin must admit, when she isn’t being annoying, she is rather endearing. “They didn’t even plan on filming a prison scene before they hired me, it was supposed to be just a regular gangbang. But then I told that lady that I’m a cop, and she lost her mind. She told me, Miranda, I’m ready to beg you to do a prison scene — and I said, oh you don’t have to beg, I’ll do it, that’s like, so hot. You ever seen Orange Is The New Black?”

“No.”

Miranda sighs. “Babe, you live under a rock.”

Robin just shrugs and drinks some more of her beer.

“Anyway, the plot is basically that I’m a cop who gets ambushed while doing nightly rounds and then they all fuck me and it’s really hot.”

“Sounds very complex,” Robin deadpans.

“It’s better when you see the visuals. And all the girls are reeeeally hot — but you already know that.”

“I’m sure you’re hot too. Like, those girls seemed into you today.”

“Told you — it’s the height.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got other things going.”

Miranda looks at her with those big, blue puppy eyes and Robin feels a wave of affection wash over her like a fucking disease. 

“Like what?” she asks, and Robin can see the question is genuine.

“I don’t know, Hilmarson, but you do,” she mumbles grumpily. “I can’t think of anything right now, you put me on the spot. Let’s just watch the thing.”

She can think of at least a couple of things — but it feels weird to hand out compliments. She can’t force herself to push the words out of her mouth.

Miranda looks a bit disappointed. “Sure,” she says and presses play.

Robin has to admit — this thing isn’t half bad, as far as pornos go. The acting is not terrible (except Miranda’s, which is tragic). The prison uniforms look correct, and Miranda’s does as well — it’s a bit tighter than it needs to be, but Robin thinks it suits her. It shows off her long legs. Miranda actually looks good, and they put some very natural makeup on her. 

Miranda towers over every girl, and it looks a bit ridiculous when the first one comes up to her and shoves her against the wall. That’s, however, when Miranda’s acting really improves — and Robin suspects it’s because she isn’t acting anymore. She looks like she’s really into it.

The intro is long — longer than Robin thought it would be, but she supposes that’s how it is with high quality porn you gotta fucking pay for — and Robin is on her second beer and already drunk, and she can’t stop thinking about how disappointed Miranda looked when she refused to compliment her and she also can’t stop thinking about her tits in that see-through shirt and about her puppy eyes, and wow, that girl pinned her on the bed and bit her neck and Miranda’s moan is really sexy and fuck, that was really hot. Another girl rips off her shirt and Miranda is now only in a lacy blue bra and Robin can see her nipples, and suddenly she’s hyperaware of the fact that she could also see her nipples if she just turned a bit to the left and—

Miranda pauses the video. 

“That’s the intro,” she says, glancing towards Robin. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Robin says and her voice is much squeakier than she intended it to be. She clears her throat. “It’s good.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that? You don’t look like you like it. You’re doing that weird face.”

Robin frowns. “What weird face?”

“That weird face you always do. You scrunch your nose and look annoyed.”

“I think that’s just my face.”

“Oh.”

They sit in awkward silence for a bit, and then Robin turns to Miranda to fully face her.

“I’m a bitch,” she says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “What?”

“I’m a bitch. I’m a bitch to you, I’m a bitch to everyone. Everybody in their right mind has already left me. Why won’t you leave?”

Miranda is silent for a moment. She places her beer down on the coffee table. “Do you… want me to leave you?”

“No.”

“Why? You don’t seem to like me. You couldn’t even think of one thing to compliment me on.”

“That’s because I’m a bitch. But I do like you. And yes, you do annoy me, but I think you have many good qualities. You’re loyal and kind, even when everybody’s being terrible to you, including myself. Your jokes aren’t funny, but they cheer me up. And you have much more going for you than your height. You have nice tits and really long legs and pretty eyes, and no man I ever saw you fool around with was ever worthy of you.”

Miranda stares at her, at a loss for words. “Do you really think that?” she slowly asks.

“Yes. I really don’t understand why you didn’t ditch me a long time ago, though.” She averts her eyes, then takes another sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’m worthy of you either.”

Robin can feel the couch shift as Miranda scoots closer to her. Miranda takes the beer from her hand and places it on the coffee table, then grabs her by the shoulders. “Robin. Robin, look at me.”

Robin reluctantly meets her gaze. She doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close. She can feel Miranda’s breath on her face, and the only thing she can think about is that Miranda’s eyes are very blue.

“I think you’re a good person,” Miranda says. Robin glances at her lips. They are very pink. “You’ve just been through a lot. I like you, and I want to be your friend. I won’t just leave if you’re acting like a bitch sometimes.”

Robin kisses her. 

Miranda squeaks, but she doesn’t pull away. Robin grabs her neck and her waist and pulls her closer and then Miranda is kissing her back. She hums into the kiss and it drives Robin wild, and then she pushes her tongue into Miranda’s mouth and Miranda immediately welcomes it. They kiss like they’re hungry, and Miranda is a sloppy kisser but somehow in a good way, and Robin loves it, loves how warm and wet her tongue is, and how big her hands feel on her waist. Miranda whimpers when Robin’s hands wander to her tits. She finally indulges into what she’s been thinking about the entire evening and gropes Miranda over her shirt. 

Miranda pulls away. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. But I also want to watch the porno till the end. I want to see you get fucked, and then I want to fuck you.”

Miranda’s eyes go dark with desire and she kisses her again, then pulls away. “No problem,” she says, grinning a bit mischievously. She pushes Robin back into the couch. “Lie back and relax. I’ll eat you out while you watch.” 

Robin can’t remember the last time someone ate her out, and her pussy throbs just thinking about it. “Okay,” she says with a breathy voice. Miranda presses play and the video takes off where they paused it — a closeup of Miranda’s tits in the lacy blue bra.

Miranda pushes away the coffee table and sinks down on the floor, getting onto her knees in front of Robin. Robin’s chest is heaving and she can feel her cheeks flushing as Miranda unzips her jeans. “Up,” she says, and Robin lifts her hips. Miranda pulls down her jeans and underwear in one swift move, pulling them over her knees and feet and discarding them on the floor, leaving her completely bare and exposed. Robin almost feels self-conscious, almost tells her to wait, to slow down — but then Miranda looks at her bare pussy with such lust and adoration in her gaze that Robin just can’t feel embarrassed anymore. 

“It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve had someone do this to me,” she says breathlessly. 

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you,” Miranda says, and she also sounds a bit out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. Robin fixes her gaze onto the screen.

  Miranda’s pants are already gone. She’s lying on the bed, handcuffed, her chest and cheeks flushed. One of the girls is straddling her waist and groping her tits underneath her bra, two are kissing and biting her neck, ears and jaw, two are stroking her long legs and slapping her thighs. Miranda is breathing heavily. Her eyes are hazy and dark, her lips parted. The girl straddling her pulls off her bra, ripping it apart and exposing her small, perky tits. Miranda gasps. One of the girls kissing her neck takes her tit into her mouth and bites her nipple, making her cry out. “Fuck,” Miranda breathes out.

“That’s what we’re gonna do to you,” one of the girls says. “Fuck you until you can’t fucking walk, bitch.” The one straddling her starts slapping her tits, the other slaps her cheek, and one of them yanks her panties down. The camera zooms in on Miranda’s pink, dripping cunt.

  Robin lets out a breathy moan — both because of the visual on the screen, and because of Miranda lightly biting the inside of her thigh. She is gentle, reverent — kissing and licking Robin’s thighs, running her thumbs along where Robin’s thighs meet her vulva. Robin is squirming and breathing hard, and she’s surprised how much she’s affected by Miranda’s teasing. 

Finally, Miranda gives Robin’s pussy a hot, long lick — Robin shivers and moans. Miranda’s tongue is warm and wet against her pussy, and she wants more. She grabs her head, tangles her fingers into Miranda’s soft, blonde hair and pulls her closer. Miranda grins into her cunt and starts giving her pussy long, fervent licks.

  One of the girls is fastening a strap around her hips. She hovers over Miranda’s face, lowering her pussy down to Miranda’s mouth, the strap grazing Miranda’s forehead. “Eat my pussy, pretty cop,” she says, and starts riding Miranda’s face. The strap bounces up and down and hits Miranda’s face as the girl grinds her hips and Miranda licks her cunt with fervour — you can tell she’s really into it. One girl is slapping her tits, and the other produces another strap, lubes it up and shoves it into Miranda’s cunt. Miranda’s stomach muscles contract as the girl stretches her out and then starts fucking her at a relentless pace. She’s whimpering and moaning, her face covered in drool and the other girl’s arousal. “Such a tight pussy. Does it hurt, pretty cop?” the girl fucking her mocks her and Miranda can only whimper.    Miranda’s pussy eating is sloppy. She licks and sucks and smears her own drool and Robin’s wetness around with her tongue. She shoves her tongue inside of her, sucks on her pussy lips, licks her clit. 

Robin loves it. 

She’s never felt so worshipped and adored. In the past, when people ate her out, they usually just wanted to be done with it. Miranda is the complete opposite — perhaps she’s sloppy, but she eats her like she’s devouring her favourite meal. She’s taking her time, really getting in there, and she looks like she’s enjoying herself a lot. She’s humming and whimpering along with Robin. The room is filled with sounds from the video mixed with their own, real-time moans, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “Fuck,” Robin gasps as Miranda finds a really good spot. “Do that again, fuck!”

Miranda is really good at following directions — and she really wants to please. She repeats the movement that made Robin cry out many times, and Robin’s thighs start trembling. “Fuck, Miranda,” she pants, and saying her name only spurs Miranda on, and she slips one finger into her dripping cunt and starts slowly fucking her. Robin keens. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

  The girls throw Miranda on the floor, making her kneel on all fours. Her wrists are still handcuffed. One of the girls spits in her mouth. “Suck my cock, slut,” she then says and shoves her strap into Miranda’s mouth. Miranda looks so hot sucking it — the camera zooms in on her face, on her wide and pretty blue eyes as she looks up at the girl fucking her face. The girl grabs her hair and shoves the strap deeper. Miranda’s eyes tear up as she gags, but she never stops sucking, bobbing her back and forth. “What a good slut you are,” the girl says. Miranda whimpers as two girls start spanking her ass, and the other starts fucking her asshole with a dildo.  The girl fucking her mouth pulls the strap out. “You love it. Say you love it.”

“No,” Miranda says, and Robin can tell it’s the script she must follow, because her eyes say yes and she cranes her neck to take the strap into her mouth again.  “Fucking liar. I know you love it, slut,” the girl says and grabs her hair, starts fucking her mouth faster than before. Tears stream down Miranda’s cheeks and she moans in pleasure as her mouth and ass are fucked relentlessly and her ass is spanked until it becomes bright red.

  Miranda slips another finger inside Robin, and Robin moans loudly. Miranda starts fucking her harder and licking her clit faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” Robin whimpers, pulling Miranda closer. Miranda moans as Robin pulls on her hair, and Robin starts rocking her hips against Miranda’s mouth.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Miranda keens as she rides a girl’s strap, while another girl fucks her from behind. Her face and chest are red, there are beads of sweat on her back and forehead, her hair is ruffled, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed with pleasure. Another girl kneels in front of her and shoves her strap in Miranda’s mouth again, muffling her cries of pleasure. The other two girls are pleasuring themselves, watching Miranda get fucked in every hole. The girl underneath her gropes her tits and the one behind her slaps her ass as they fuck her. 

The girl fucking her mouth pulls on her hair. “That’s it, you’re gonna come from this like a dirty slut,” she says and pulls the strap out of her mouth, and Miranda screams as pleasure overwhelms her. The girls don’t stop fucking her, and she keeps moaning and screaming and rocking her hips. “Fuckyes,” she cries as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

  “Ah, Miranda,” Robin cries, “don’t stop — ah, fuck!” She feels herself clenching around Miranda’s fingers. She grinds on Miranda’s face, and Miranda hums and moans into her pussy, fucks her hard and fast until the tight coil in Robin’s belly snaps and she comes — hard. 

“Shit — fuck!” she cries. Miranda continues to fuck her and doesn’t stop licking her clit. Robin feels the tension build again, and before she knows it a second orgasm washes over her like a wave. She keens and clenches her thighs around Miranda’s head, trying to push her away from her sensitive clit. Miranda slowly pulls her fingers out of her and continues to gently lick her through the aftershocks. Robin’s thighs tremble. “Fuck,” she says breathlessly, her muscles convulsing as Miranda gives her aching clit a small kitten lick.

When Robin looks at the TV again, the screen is black.

She glances down at Miranda kneeling in between her legs. Miranda smiles and wipes her mouth on her forearm. She gives Robin that pretty, wide eyed look that Robin can’t admit she loves. 

“Do you have a strap?” Robin asks. 

“Yeah. Want me to fuck you with the strap?” Miranda asks, still a bit out of breath, climbing back up on the couch.

“No. I want to fuck you with it and make you moan like you did in the porno.”

Miranda’s face lights up. She smiles at Robin, grabs her arm and leads her towards the bedroom.

Miranda comes three times that night. After making her admit she came five times on the set, Robin makes a pact with herself to reach that number next time — but right now, she’s very, very sleepy.

As they lie next to each other on the bed, Miranda tentatively reaches for Robin’s hand. Robin doesn’t pull away. They stay like that for a bit, and then Robin rolls over and wraps her arm around Miranda’s waist. She can tell Miranda loves it.

“So, what are we now?” Miranda asks as she rubs little circles on her back.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks into Miranda’s chest, knowing very well what she means.

“I mean, are we an item?”

Robin waits a moment before she responds. 

“Not yet,” she says. “But… we could be.”

With her face buried in Miranda’s torso, she can’t see her smile.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta-reading. <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @softshrimpy @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

#kink!week #7 days of kink #miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x robin griffin #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it

[lunarcat982]

Untitled book

ok so here's chapter 1 of a story I'm writing I've already written the first 3 chapters so will prob post them at some point. Also this is rly long so if u want me to post further chapters like split into different posts or something js say! and pls give ideas and feedback (it won't be perfect so I'll defo need like improvements lol) :))

Chapter 1 

Meet Felix 

Felix sighed as he walked down the crowded hallway of his school, his thoughts drowning in the chatter and enjoyment within his peers. you could vaguely hear his timid footsteps echo around the school. He had bags under his eyes with a tint of red. He’d been crying again. It was so hard sometimes… It hurt. He couldn’t bear it. It was the end of another day just like the others, painful, emotionless and hell.  Felix's phone buzzed in his blazer pocket, probably mum or dad asking him for something as they always do.  Oh… it was Isabell. They used to be friends a few weeks back, good friends, but she said she wanted to find some new ‘people’ and maybe find love, or some generic shit like that anyway. He couldn't remember what she said exactly, but it didn’t help with his mental state, she was one of the few people who kept him at least a little happy in this fucked up world. Haha probably the only person, and then when she went away, he couldn’t help feeling empty and alone, not even his parents talked to him anymore. 

Apparently, she wanted to meet him somewhere today at 4:00, she wanted to talk about how things are going and maybe hang out a bit more. Felix managed a meek smile, maybe he did have someone to relate to, maybe his existence wasn’t so meaningless. He was getting his hopes up, that was the mistake. 

Felix walked up the steep hill that led to the long winding road that accommodated his house. His feet gently smothered browning leaves that had recently fallen from their respective branches. He had already started conjuring up what to say, what to ask. The only problem was getting out of his house after he was in it, of course mum would start bombarding him with questions about girlfriends if he brought up the fact he was going out with a girl. He would have to lie, not that it meant anything, it was almost instinctive now. He just couldn't get why they didn't understand he wasn't interested in any girls! It angered him more than it should have. 

He had arrived, he stood tiresomely in front of the bleak grey door he knew only too well; something about impressing the neighbours, his mum had said. Lazily he pulled on the handle and slowly opened and closed the door. Nothing, he was safe. Carefully Felix ascended the stairs and changed into something more suitable than his confining uniform; and yet even after this he still felt constricted by his parents' choice of clothes, he yearned for something more…  expressive. It-it didn't matter now, he had to go, he was going to be late. He was downstairs now, and was about to leave, but. 

“And just where do you think you’re goin?” her voice was slurred and slow, she had been drinking again. Felix sighed, “I-I’m going to see a friend”

“Which friend!” His mother snapped at him drawing another gulp of wine from one of her already half empty glasses. 

“It’s a boy mum! Okay?” Felix said, actively avoiding looking at the mess, which was his birth mother, he couldn’t stand to see anyone, not even her like this. 

“Eugh, fuckin’ hell Felix, you keep on seein’ all these boys, you’re gonna end up a fag,” 

Felix shut his eyes and tried ignoring the comment, even though the anger was begging to be let out. He never supported his mum’s or, well, the whole town's view on the LGBTQ+ community. But he couldn’t think about that right now, he needed to go, and with that his mum slunk back into the living room in which all the blinds were drawn down, and Felix swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, ready to see an old friend.    

He was starting to smile more now, he felt heavy weights he’d been carrying for God knows how long lift off him. He felt a sense of escape rush over him; escape from his family? guilt? He wasn’t sure, but it made him feel better and that's all that mattered right now.  And then it hit him, they hadn’t even organised an area to meet up. That was stupid of him. He quickly pried the phone from his pocket and texted asking to meet at… maybe Grey Heart woods? Yeah, that was a good place, he had an idea of something to show her. Felix smiled at the thought of this, he hadn’t been given the chance to express his interests for a long while now and he was eager to do so.  His phone buzzed in his hand “yh ok” she replied.  

15 minutes later Felix was outside the field by Grey Heart woods, he used to hang out here, back when everything was simpler, and he didn’t feel alone all the time. This was where he first met Isabell, they were both 13, wow 2 years ago. Heh, time flies when you have nothing to do with your life. 

At this moment Felix realised Isabell was nowhere to be seen, he checked his phone: 16:01. She was late, eh it was ok people are often late- he had suggested the meeting spot rather late. It only bothered him when he was late, he couldn’t stand that- it made him very uncomfortable; he still wasn’t sure why. 

5 minutes passed and eventually he saw her come out of an opening to the right. She still had glasses although they were new, a ginger ponytail hung from the back of her head and she seemed more confident than the last team he saw her, taller too.  He put on a smile and tried cleaning the mop of black hair that draped over his forehead. In truth he was nervous, it had been so long, and he didn’t want to lose this like he lost it before. 

They walked towards each other, both smiling, “H-hi!” he said, raising a hand to wave, his attempts at hiding his nervous-ness were poor. “Hellooo!” she giggled. He smiled at this, she hadn’t changed, quirky and weird. 

“Heheh, so how have you been? It's been a long time, "he said, more confident now. “Well, let's see, parents still divorced check, no friends check, oh! And still single, definitely check," "and you?” she asked with a beaming smile. 

“Wow ok, let me think, I’ve been rotting away in my room, been crying in the school bathrooms and been completely and utterly alone,” he said, hinting at how much her sudden leaving hurt him. 

“Yeah, I’ll cheers to that!” She said, distracted, looking into the woods to the left of them both. “So, you wanna go in?” she asked signalling towards the woods 

“Um yeah sure,” “I actually have something to show you!” he said remembering what he was planning. “Oh, you do, do you?” she said once again with that cheeky smile. 

They’d been walking for around 5 minutes into the woods now and Isabell was getting restless, “when are we getting there?” she asked. 

“Hehe don’t worry we’re nearly there, I promise”,  

she wasn’t convinced, he could tell. And she was starting to move her body closer to his as they walked.  That was... new, eh it's probably nothing.  

Finally, the pair came to a stop in front of a large tree, around 5 metres up the trunk were 10 wooden planks nailed into various branches, although some appeared to be losing their grip and leaning off the edges.  “Um what's this?”  

“A treehouse!” He said. He was feeling more open with her now, he didn’t mind her judgement. 

“okayy , how are we gonna get up?” she said a little more interested now. 

“Ladder!” he said, smiling and gesturing towards an arrangement of horizontal wooden slabs scaling the trunk of the tree. 

Isabell frowned at the state of the wood but climbed it, nevertheless. Felix followed her up, close behind, smiling more and more. He missed this place.   

Eventually, the two of them had reached the top, Felix was surprised at how well the place had held up, only a few patches of moss growing here and there. “So, what were you gonna bring me up here for again?” She said, her voice smoother and fluid. It was probably just him. 

“Well,” he said, a little nervous, again, “I actually wanted to show you something I’m really interested in… paradoxes!”  he said, smiling once more. 

She frowned at this, “what?” she said coldly. 

“Y'know, a statement or question that contra-” 

“Are you kidding me?”  

“W-what?” 

“I’ve been acting like all nice for you, like we used to be” “And this is what I get…” “Felix, I LIKE you”  

“I” He didn't know what to do, he was panicking and confused. 

She sighed, “I guess I’ll have to do it myself” she whispered as to not let him hear. He did. “Felix, I’m sorry” she started cooing, that same smooth tone in her voice again, “come on we can just be together, I Know you like me” she started moving towards him on her hands and knees. He froze, he didn’t know what to do and was so confused. She was on him now. “W-” he managed to get the start of a word out before she pressed her lips against his own, closing her eyes she moved her hand to his cheek. He felt her tongue progressing towards his mouth, his back now pressed against the wood beneath him, as she leaned into him. He was scared, so scared, he didn’t like this. Without thinking he pushed against her, releasing himself from her clutch.  She got back onto her knees and looked at him with disgust. He hadn't realised, he was now crying, and his eyes were now red with worry. “Fuck you!” she said now angry, “Y-you freak!” she was hurt too, and he could tell in her voice she was on the brink of tears herself.  Without warning she descended the ladder two steps at a time, and ran away from him, all the while he sat there, tears rolling down his red cheeks.  Felix sat there for half an hour more, crying harder than he had in months, as that word repeated over and over in his head, “Freak”. 

#idk how to tag this #art #lgbtqia #depressing shit #writing #chapter 1 #books #reading #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing stuff #writerscommunity #writeblr #writer stuff #creative writing #lgbtq #lol

[lovebites-if]

Here’s me hoping I get a little drabble thing

how would Val and N react if they wanted to use the printer at the same time?

Jdjsjgjs basically a weekly occurrence.

N makes it to the printer first, they check their phone briefly before getting back to work (read: making photocopies of an article Devan liked but likely won’t ever use), and that’s when Val walks in, they carry that cloud of bleakness, of darkness, as they always do.

They’re scowling—as always—N mirrors their expression before they can help themself, and such expressions only deepen when Val makes their way right beside them (and now N can smell them, they can smell the blood, the danger, the decay).

“Move, mutt,” Val practically snaps, “I have work to do.”

“Well so do I— bloodsucker!” N adds the slur like it’s an afterthought (Val doesn’t look impressed). They say, “I got here first. Wait for your turn.”

Val rolls their eyes, “You’re just going to stink up the place and take forever. I’ll go first.”

(Discretely, the werewolf takes a small sniff of their own shirt, but N’s sensitive nose can only detect a whiff of their usual perfume).

“Uh-hu-hu!” N bodily blocks the printer with their much bigger frame, “I got here first! You’ve no right to come here and boss me around like you own the place, Dumitru! I’ll beat your ass!”

“Over photocopies? How... weak.”

N’s growl comes readily, “I’ll show you weak,” and it’s met with an even readier hiss. The flame of hatred dances in Val’s eyes, though perhaps it’s only a reflection of N’s— the fire of rage does threaten to burn them, especially when Val is involved.

That scent of death— it’s so disgusting it makes N bristle.

“Dude...” L walks in the scene, interrupting—N and Val, who had inadvertently squared off mid-argument, immediately back away from each other—clutching their own photocopies, brandishing their own characteristic look of disdain, “You two should just fuck already...”

Both vampire and werewolf tell L to, “Fuck off,” but they don’t. L walks past the both of them, approaches the printer and starts making copies.

“Hey! Not fair,” N pouts.

#love bites if #love bites #naira/namid #val #little drabble thing

[tunashei]

First impressions of Animoprhs!

I'm listening to the Animorphs series while I work, through Animorphs Aloud - a fan made reading of the series. Here are my first impressions/random thoughts about them! Spoilers below if you haven't read them.

Book 7: The Stranger

I often think how you'd REALLY react if you were faced with something paranormal or magical, because it wouldn't just be the monster or ghost or superhero you have to contend with - but your entire knowledge of the universe flipping on it's head. Legit consider how insane you'd go if you found out monsters were *really* real. And they do this to a random person in the start of most books! Ha.

Kind of surprised they consider a human-alien relationship with any sort of seriousness. How progressive. But then there's been a few hints towards Rachel liking Tobias and he's...a bird. Rachel is very open minded.

Somehow I have my doubts Rachel will move away. The clue is the 47 books that come after this.

Man I feel for Tobias, having to spend the rest of his life as a hawk while potentially watching his friends move on. It's not like he can make new friends. Also how long does he even live? Does he have a hawk lifespan now of 10-15 years?

Rachel wants more firepower and she skips the POLAR BEARS? GIRL. Those things are fucking terrifying! Though I did do a bit of research and turns out when Polar Bears and Grizzlies compete for food it's usually the Polar Bears that leave.

Also I have a hard time believing a bear has more 'firepower' than an elephant. Bit easier to move around and get into places as a bear though.

Still can't get over the frequent use of the slang 'hooked up' to mean meeting. Very different meaning nowadays.

The mental image of them fitting pretty much a centaur into a dressing room is very funny.

Wow. Stopping time definitely blindsided me. This Ellimist is like a god?? Was not expecting that.

The descriptions when the Ellimist is showing off the beauty of earth make me very sad I will likely not get to experience it. It's so sad to know coral reefs exist out there, beauty unparalleled, and you can't simply go and see them. Not without money. It's a cruel joke that we're placed on such an amazing planet and yet how little of it we'll see.

Man this is a genuinely tough decision. I really like Cassie's perspective, that humans are now the endangered animals potentially rejecting the one thing that could save them. Honestly if what seemed like a literal god told me the fight is unwinnable I'd probably give in and tell them to take me to a new planet.

Aaaand now the kids are getting eaten alive. I LOVE the amount of traumatising scenarios in these books. Main reason I started em. Feel a bit bad for the Taxon, imagine eating some innocuous snack and it swells up and bursts you from the inside.

Ax has a thing for cutting off people's arms.

You're the second largest carnivore on land Rachel, Polar Bears got you beat.

Also Rachel totally just murdered a bunch of human people.

Now...time travel? Hm not a big fan of time travel.

Damn the Yeerks invested in free, superfast and wide-covering public transport? I'd vote for them.

This is why I don't like time travel. Is it deterministic? Can it be changed? Boggles the mind. The implication is they refuse the Ellimist's offer and stay and fight, and lose, and Rachel becomes a controller. But why would Ax being there mean the future has changed? Did future-Rachel lie about there being six humans to Visser-Three? Why?

PFFFF I'm sorry but as horrifying as the idea of them killing and consuming Tobias after being infected and turned into controllers is, it's also like Disney-level villainy.

If this is the future and it can be changed, why can't Visser-Three kill them? Sure he wouldn't have controller Rachel so the future would be different but the goal of invading would work?

Well this is looking bleak.

I wonder who is keeping Ellimists in check that they even need rules.

Surprisingly quick and efficient mission! And that's the end of that one. A bit confusing, but I wonder if the Ellimist stuff will get clearer later on.

#animorphs #animorphs aloud #book #reading #audio book #first impressions

[ravencromwell]

Ask game: 1, 4, and 20 for Holland

Will do the Vor ones tomorrow!!!!! But for now:

* Rolls up sleeves*

1. First Impression: there's a funny and a serious answer to this.

Y'know how I'm always saying I'm terrible at predicting things? Before I picked ADSOM up, I went looking for ADSOM queer characters or something of the like. And discovered Rhy Maresh, about whom I only knew: his being gay plays a small part in the first book and a much larger one in the next two. So, I'm skimming along and this dude comes into Rhy's room and is all: "I have been to your father for business. I come to you for pleasure."

And my little May December loving heart—which also adores enemies to lovers? Fair somersaulted with joy as I read all about how this "Holland" worked for a rival kingdom. I was _amped up for this slow-burn where they had a long-term thing going on Holland's diplomatic missions that was secret from everyone even Rhy's brother, though I suspected maybe Kell guessed because he sure thought about this Holland a lot, which was only natural if you kinda thought he was gonna be your future brother-inn-law, right?

I can barely type this for laughing at how badly! I got the character dynamics wrong but like: Rhy was so _down! for flirting with him and the guard had said he was dangerous, with very cold, hollow eyes and I couldn't understand how Rhy could possibly be so casual about Holland being in his room if he didn't know something we were missing. (Only later did I learn that Rhy, dearest beloved, if confronted with a suddenly talking tree or wall: would aggressively flirt and charm the leaves/stone off it, only asking how it came to have the remarkable ability of speech after he discovered if it was in fact hot to kiss a tree or wall.)

The serious answer: from the moment I read the lines: "The Antari's eyes slid over the scene—the blood, the ink, the tortured commoner— expression lodged between distant surprise and disinterest. Holland liked to play at being hollow, but Athos knew it was a ruse. He might have feigned numbness, but he was hardly immune to sensation." followed swiftly by "What should I do with him?" even after Athos's "we're not too late" makes clear he expected Holland to follow him instead of help Beloc, I was just like _mine please join the cadre of my best beloveds and let me slay all your enemies (or set it up so that you can be the one to slay Athos do not fucking get me started on Holland being denied his vengeance we will be here all year).

Look, I know there are a dozen different ways to read that scene. I know you can think Holland was simply imagining himself there, or so deeply traumatized Athos was wrong and he didn't give a fuck. But those lines? Combined with Athos' latter staring for tells and seeing "Anger, pain, defiance" at the corner of Holland's mouth and the crease of his eye? Viscerally read as the only sort of solidarity Holland could show to this kid who was about to be a fellow abuse survivor. It didn't _work, but I will die on the fucking hill his asking "What do I do with him?" was a bid to get Beloc out of the frame for the night, because that sort of thing worked often when Athos was distracted.

And so, Holland showing solidarity with Maktahns, even when he didn't actually have the agency to do shit, became an absolute bedrock part of my characterization.

[The two stellar fannish examples of Holland's love for Maktahns in all their bloody glory are Snake Charmer, where he protects Nasi, and Green and Pleasant Lands, where Holland absolutely loses his shit in a contained fashion over Kell criticizing a (quite bleak) ritual. Just fucking peak characterization]

4. how many people do I ship them with? When reading, I'm down for absolutely _anything or _anyone with good Holland characterization. For what I'm likely to write: four. Vor and Tal, which you know. But I'm also deeply. deeply fond of a Holland Ojka arc where she follows him to Red and has to learn how to separate the man and the king, as well as the king and Osaron and properly falls for the man, rather than the king. And I have a deep affection for the Holland Rhy thing you gave me the excuse to write (it's coming at end of semester!!!): a Rhy who deeply misses Alucard and just getting to be a _person rather than a prince. Not even necessarily a fully rounded person who has in-depth conversations with his bed-mate (I mean. he misses that, too but he's not getting it with Holland and that's fine). Just someone from whom all the other party wants is thorough debauchery rather than a tumble and maybe a court appointment for their niece and maybe their friend's brother etc. "You draw them like flies," Holland says once, and Rhy doesn't understand why his laugh is bitter and wistful and it's probably cruel to think of people like insects, because he likes people most of the time he truly does. But also yes, he's so tired of only being the thing from which people take and take and take. And a Holland who wants an antidote to the Danes they probably won't kill who isn't Kell because his desperation to _know Holland is so sharp and Holland isn't here for soul-bearing hour.

20. Weird headcanon: Not weird so much as the one I'm thinking about most today:

It was Alox who ensured Holland could read. Alox has heard rumors that in corners of the city, books can be found. And these Antari, who his brother is slowly becoming one of as his eye turns were once the greatest magicians in the land. People like that like to hear themselves talk, so they probably like to read each other's blather too. Which means his brother has to read, even if Alox never had any use beyond learning the runes for binding so he wasn't cheated out of an inking when he could afford to capture magic.

The year before he decides Holland has to die, he fetches and carries for an old, ill man in a slightly richer district—only for his brother would he carry a dying man's shit down three flights of stairs—in exchange for paper with all the runes on it and some lessons on their sounds. Does his best to teach Holl second-hand, even though what he really wants is a drink—maybe Kosh, maybe blood for a hit of magic he'll decide when he meets his friends later—. Bastard actually leaves Alox two whole intact books when he dies. After that, well Holl never could turn down a challenge. He tosses 'em over and lets him start sounding it all out.

#oh god these were so fun #Holland Vosijk #Shades of Magic

[catb-fics]

Forbidden Part 1

I have so many parts to post before I can get up to date with this story! Student/Professor AU. Cliché as fuck I know but it has been so much fun to write 🖤

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None really for this part… just Van’s skin tight jeans 🤭

Story Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

You feel your heart sink at your lecturer's words. You'd barely even cobbled together enough material to write a 1000 word report, let alone the mammoth 6000 word essay that needed to be submitted. And it definitely needed to be submitted. You were barely scraping through as it was, teetering on the edge of failure. Another unsatisfactory module mark and your chances of progressing on to the second year were looking pretty bleak.

It's not that you couldn't cope with the content of the BA History course you'd joined the previous year in September. You were certainly bright enough. In fact with your A Level grades you had probably sold yourself short in picking your current university. You'd not chosen it on its academic merits or league table rankings though, you'd blindly followed your boyfriend there who'd bagged himself a full sports scholarship playing football whilst studying Sports Science. What you hadn't banked on was finding him in a compromising position with the student coach of the ladies volleyball team only a month into the first semester.

Things had swiftly gone downhill from there. All of a sudden poring over textbooks in the evening was replaced with downing shots in the Students Union bar. You told yourself you were having fun, you were only young once, it was just the first term, you had plenty of time to buckle down and better your weak grades after Christmas, but unfortunately your first semester exam marks were a harsh wake up call. If you didn't pull your socks up you'd be out of the course and off campus by the time early summer rolled around. And then Professor McCann came on to the scene...

Professor Ryan Evan McCann or 'Van' as he urged the students to call him was a recent addition to the Faculty staff. Fresh from his PhD studies and eager to teach, he'd fast become a firm favourite amongst both staff and students alike. He was friendly, enthusiastic and always took the time to explain the course content thoroughly. But it wasn't just his engaging teaching style which saw his module fast oversubscribed with keen students. He was drop dead gorgeous, and the flurry of excited whispers that had flowed around the lecture theatre when he'd stepped up to the lectern to deliver a short introduction on semester two options day had less to do with real excitement for the subject, and more to do with the tightness of his skinny jeans and his piercing blue eyes. You could practically hear the collective sigh from most of the females in the room... and a few of the males too.

And now here you were, three weeks into the term, your self-made promises of turning over a new leaf looking more and more like empty vows as night after night you ventured out rather than taking your studies seriously. Not even the thought of impressing your attractive professor was enough to tempt you away from two-for-one cocktails at the Union club nights.

In fact he'd been the main reason you'd been out until two in the morning the night before. It had started innocently enough. Loud cheers and cheeky remarks as the usual gang of revellers from your hall of residence had spotted Van and a male colleague enjoying a quiet early evening pint in the corner of a bar in the town centre. You'd struck up banter backwards and forwards across the room until Van had caved and agreed to join you all at the next bar in your planned pub crawl. Pint after pint had been sunk, and soon enough it was impossible to tell exactly who the responsible adult was. You'd all seen another side to Professor McCann, a fun, reckless, impulsive side which only served to make him all the more attractive. If only you'd not had that last cocktail you probably would have been able to restrain yourself.

You cringed internally as you recalled bumping into him as he was coming out of the toilets at the nightclub you'd ended up at. How you'd grabbed the lapels of his shirt and backed him into the wall of the narrow corridor, showering him with compliments which he'd awkwardly rebuffed. If you'd left it at that you probably could have laughed it off, kept your head down for a few lectures and there would have been no harm done, but you hadn't. Spurred on by your drunken state and your worries about flunking the course, you did something bad. Something you weren't going to recover from with a flushed face and an awkward apology.

You'd propositioned him.

One hand flat against the wall, the other toying with his belt buckle before slipping down to firmly caress between his legs as he looked back at you wide-eyed and disbelievingly.

"So... Sir," you'd slurred, voice thick with inebriation. "Is there anything I can do to help me pass your module this semester?"

You'd seen a spark of something in his eyes, but it was only fleeting. He'd quickly recovered, firmly pushing you back, hands on your shoulders, spinning you around so you were now the one against the wall.

"Y/N... you're drunk," he'd stated. "I'd think very carefully about your next actions if I were you or you're going to get yourself into a situation that's beyond your control."

"Ooh... d'ya like being in control then?" You'd giggled, pouting suggestively, reaching for him again.

He'd grabbed your wrists, hard, his grip firm as he pushed them back against the wall. "I mean it. Don't make me do something I'll regret."

His eyes flashed dangerously, boring into you for a long moment before he pushed himself back from the wall, releasing you and then stepping away, muttering that he was leaving.

You let him go.

It was supposed to be a warning, a show of his authority to deter you, but it didn't have the desired effect. In fact it did the exact opposite, and as you stumbled home and into bed that night all you could think of was his hands on your wrists, pinning you back against the wall. How it would feel if his lips had met yours and his body had pressed against you.

You fell asleep that night full of thoughts of him running through your head and woke up just hours later, hungover and restless, your head pounding.

"Come on Y/N, you've got a 9 o' clock lecture. You can't be late again."

Your best friend and room-mate Lizzie had appeared at your bedside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of paracetamol in her other open palm. You'd raised your head stiffly, blinking at the harsh sunlight and groaning before sinking your head back down into your pillow face-first.

"Y/N!" she'd grumbled, louder this time. "Hangover or not, you're gonna be in so much trouble if you don't go to McCann's lecture."

The sound of his name reverberated around your head, bringing to mind images of you blatantly  throwing yourself at him the previous night. You considered just pulling the covers up over your head and blocking out the day, but you knew Lizzie was right. If Van decided to fail you then you were out, no second chances. If you even still had a place on the course after your shameful behaviour.

You'd grudgingly dragged yourself out of bed, dutifully swallowing the painkillers and the entire glass of water, then slunk off to the shower.

You'd kept your head down, quite literally, for the whole of your two hour lecture. If it had been any other academic up there presenting the material you would surely have dozed off by now, but you weren't going to miss a second of Van. It captivated you how he commanded every student's attention, his obvious enthusiasm shining through as he animatedly delivered the lecture. And what's more, despite being out until the early hours on a brutal pub crawl like you were, he didn't look hungover at all. In fact he looked fresh as a daisy and even more devastatingly handsome than normal. How the fuck did he even do that?

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

So here you are, fuzzy-headed and shame-faced, trying to keep your head down as you merge into the steady stream of students as they file out of the lecture room. A sigh of relief is waiting with the big inhale you've taken as you step past Van, eyes fixed firmly on the carpet as you notice his boots in your peripheral vision. You’re nearly there, the threshold of the doorway just inches away...

"Y/N... I'd like a word please."

It isn’t a question. You don’t have a choice. You stop in your tracks, letting the remaining students slip past you, waiting until the last one walks through the exit and the door’s closed behind them.

It’s quiet in the room, stiflingly so, and it makes your heart pound with a raw kind of nervousness as you turn slowly, eventually looking up at Van as you come to a stop facing him.

You’re expecting him to look stern and disappointed in you, a disapproving glare to show that you've let him and yourself down, so when you clock the slight smirk simmering at the edge of his lips you’re taken aback. Your cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet as he holds you locked in his gaze.

"How's the head?"

You giggle girlishly, overcome with a shyness that doesn’t usually afflict you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, it's... errr... it's... I've been better I suppose... Look... about last night..."

You tail off, see his eyebrows raise expectantly as he cocks his head to look at you, his smirk widening. He knows you’re mortified and he’s thoroughly enjoying this. This is how he’s going to punish you, but you deserve to squirm. You suppose a touch of humiliation is a small price to pay for your actions. Especially as trying to bribe your way into an academic's pants to get an honours degree is grounds for an instant expulsion.

You carry on awkwardly, stumbling over your words, tongue-tied and pathetic. "I'm... really sorry. I was just... drunk... I... errr... I didn't really mean it."

"So what did you mean Y/N? Do you want to enlighten me?"

He takes a step towards you and you counter it, then another and another and then you feel your back hit the wall. You take a deep breath, holding it, your mind scrambling for a fitting response.

"I just... I... I don't know..."

"You thought you'd just suck my cock and I'd award you a First? Is that it?"

This hits you like a slap in the face and you let your exhale go quickly, your mouth falling agape.

It’s the way he says it, matter-of-factly like you’re discussing a mundane topic and not a sexual act in payment for your success. He isn’t flustered in the slightest, in fact he looks calm and collected. In control. It makes your heart race and that wild, wayward part of you come to life. The part that takes chances and doesn’t conform.

You look at him right back, a challenge you aren’t backing down from.

"And what if I was? What then?"

A spark lights in his eyes and he isn’t hiding it this time, it simmers there with a tension that you feel in every fibre of your being as your nerve endings bristle with electricity.

"Well... I couldn't just leave it ignored. You'd need to be punished of course."

His words light a fire between your legs as a dark part of you stirs and comes to life. Your pulse races and your breathing deepens.

"Van..." you begin, but your words don't come.

They catch in your throat as he leans in, one hand flat on the wall and the other rising up, two of his fingers trailing gently down your jaw. You swallow deeply, anticipation thick in the air as his fingers come to rest on your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look up at him.

"It's not Van to you, it's Sir... You got that?"

"Yes... Sir..."

It comes out like a whisper, breathy and full of desire. His lips curl up into a devilish smile as he looks down on you. There’s a long moment where you just look at each other, your heart thudding hard in your chest, your fingers twitching at your sides as you long to reach out for him, tangle your fingers in his hair, grasp at his hips as you push your own against him. Anything... anything to satisfy the ache between your thighs.

But it isn’t happening. He steps back, eyes still on you as he backs up, watching you carefully.

"Don't be late for my lecture tomorrow... or there will be consequences."

Then you watch as he turns and walks away, pushing through the door without so much as a look behind him, leaving you there breathless and wanting, coiled tightly like a spring.

#forbidden #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #au fanfic #vanfic

[humanmorph]

post about PAL 41. yeah you know which bit. (I deleted this post by accident and had to entirely rewrite it and I am JUST posting it now. might change some stuff later if need be)

First of all "No, you dont get it Dre. I want you to FAIL" bitch me toooooooo

The Future reveal was extremely good. what a strong visual. after everything else that happened, it's still this that lingers with me... God... And at least to me a complete surprise. It's really great as a parallel to the other side of the game with the Axiom as a being unlike (but not entirely) Divines, precisely because they've excised humans/synthetics from their creation and being... and Future is not that and can't be that but it is able to wield itself, no Elect necessary. (In a different post I once said I wasn't sure if that had ever happened before, and I completely forgot about Liberty&Discovery. I did not this time.) There's a lot of different things going on with Divines this season, and some spanning back from PARTIZAN too - I think it's impressive that nontheless it all coheres. I already saw someone put this in a way I really liked, maybe I'll try to find that post again later.

I have thoughts about Figure going back to/from their introduction in PARTIZAN, but it all feels a little pointless. The crux of it is that I would've found the character/their arc more interesting played in a slightly different way, and Dre didn't want to do that, or they would've. Usual disclaimer it's their character etc. and I do see why this is the way it is and how it fits together... I have a whole bit about it in my notes app somewhere I don't feel like dropping in here, but in the end they're just not my favourite PC. Which feels kind of mean(?) to say when they just died, but it does color how I feel about this...? It's not like I'm particulary sad, and I'm also not happy about it. Kind of grimly saying Hrm!, I guess. And I did really love their bonds to other player characters. Back in PZN too, I really liked some of the conversations with Kalar expecially, and in PAL the Cori-Figure relationship was an absolute standout, and I liked them asserting themself more generally post-Perennial too... And then throughout this season they've also always been intrisically connected to NPCs I either really really loved or found super compelling. And then they blew up I am excited about Cori getting to deal with Yet More Grief! Expecially considering their gravity clocks - she's aware that they saw her as someone to take care of, vaguely parental, and the clock is about that being somewhat frustrating to her. But she's also clearly glad that they care about her, and she does love them too, so... Well. I think it'll be awesome : ) Kind of wondering what Clem is up to but also she's not really on my radar currently. 👍 And Gur. Oooooh Gur is So Fucked. Completely even Beyond being fucked. It's grim. Everytime I thought it couldn't get worse for him, he's really been through the wringer, huh?, it does. it does get worse.

Well with all that. I'm still not sure how I feel about this as an end to Figure's arc. It's sudden, it's senseless, it's cruel... And it does hit REALLY well as a moment/scene, because Friends at the Table knows how to do the damn thing (the song really got me. The way it stops suddenly), I just don't know how I'll look back on it going forward. & It's the same for Gur (moreso, even) in that it's not like I can't see how this is extremely compelling & the way it works. The way they are working at it and how it frames both characters' whole arc and past decisions... It's just that I also am unhappy about it. Emotionally. I generally think it's worth it to think about why that might be and after mulling it over it's pretty simple: this is very bleak and I'm not able to enjoy that right now. I'm happy (well.) to leave it at that for now. And it really does depend on future developments too. I felt a similar way (not quite the same) about Valences death - and I do occasionally wonder about a shape of the story with them (and hell, Chrysanth) in it - but there was a lot of things I really loved that came out of their death, be it character developments or world changes, that in the end, I do quite like it. What doesn't really hit for me is. Or rather... I feel strange about "small wheels are breaking". Deeply sad to me in a way I can't quite say how yet. Maybe I've misunderstood "the Wheel breaks" this whole time, which like, that's on me, but I'm not sure where to go with it. Waiting & curious about "knock-on effects" for now. Perennial.... : (

And gurrrrrrrrr. fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee he absolutely cannot catch a break ever in his life/death. oooooohhhh my goodddddddd I do commend Keith for trying. I really do. The moment he was like "Where is real Gur?" I had the tiniest bit of hope. Like yeah PLEASE let Keith do some fucking bullshit. Need that rn. Alas. The dice

Like the world if Eclectic hadn't failed that roll...... fuck the dice for realllllll... [COUNTER/WEIGHT SPOILERS. still about PALISADE though] I JUST listened to Mako grab that damn thing in the C/W finale. A WEEK ago I did that. Oh it's just so cool to put next to each other, both Future itself but also the act of taking it (or failing to do so. And also of course Gur, who himself stole Future) and the way it then so completely shaped itself/it's presence/powers after who carried. That's why it's Zeal for Mako and Ambition for Orth (which I was thinking about the other day when I was looking at the fatt.wiki page... it's titled Zeal and that's literally just the case because Mako grabbed it first. If Aria had gotten it like she was supposed to by winning the auction we would probably not know about that other stuff!). There's even a fun way Future's change is reflected in the mechanics: because they were playing Firebrands there literally wasn't a roll to take it. There was no failure, because it would/could not do anything but be wielded. [C/W SPOILERS end.] Though it's interesting to think about that Future isn't a name given by themself either, though they might've genuinely adopted it. It's the Principality's. I've always loved this bit about Motion from PZN 33:

AUSTIN: [...] These things that we call Divines, whether we think of them as our weapons, or our highways, or our saints or gods or mirrors: they aren't ours at all. No matter how well we shop for names to place on their frames, our words are just ill fitting costumes.

But I don't know!!! I wish they'd gotten to talk to it!! It's so interesting to me the way Austin talked about the Ring (since Keith referenced LOTR) being tired of being worn, the Ring wearing itself. Again, extremely cool to me! Also that it's way to... protect itself (? Eclectic took a peril from Divine Blast & Figure. yeap) is still about the thing they detached itself from, which is what do YOU envision. What could YOU do with me.

I did really like the power of the Divine Opposition going through Eclectic causing an earthquake "it's like a rage boiling up in you, maybe". That was sick as fuck. And I really am so curious about Delegates relationship to Divines... I've said this before... I think it's very interesting that Eclectic doesn't fw it, but what do other Delegates think? How do they feel about weaving magic? Do they know to what extend they even have that power? Keith said Eclectic had never weaved magic before, which isn't true, he did, to get into a bathroom after stalking a random stranger (Connadine) (this is still extremely funny.), but in a sense that really is a very mundane way to use divine magic. And to have this literally seismic event happen because of the power coming from a part of himself that he already doesn't connect with, but DID reach out to in a critical moment in opposition to himself, and he didn't have any control over it at all? That's cool to me!!! I don't really have a neat point to make here, I just really want more about Delegates. It somewhat depends on Eclectic making it to next season or not, since I'm guessing the focus will shift away from Palisade as a place. But I just don't want them as a group to vanish from view, whether we have a player character representing them or not (......... Branched............ If you're out there.................. Call me.........).

Last thing but when the computer smell was mentioned I immediately thought of the Afflictions. Was this just because the other scene prominently featuring a smell ("AUSTIN: But it smells like Valence here. ALI: Shut the fuck up. What are you talking about?") had one of those in it? Yes absolutely. It's also a little wishful thinking, because I like them a lot.

#I knowwww I forgot about something that was previously there on the other hand I also wrote more about something else. #sighs #oh some c/w spoilers in there btw i've bolded a disclaimer but jsyk #palisadeposting #palisade spoilers #i did want to wait until i actually finished the episode to see if something critical to this bit still came up later #but i am posting it now lest i accidentally delete it AGAIN (unlikely but still) #lone marble group side getting it's own post probably. #if i feel like it. going on my walk soon ✌️

[nirikeehan]

TGIF! I went down the rabbit hold of the pick a title list and thought maybe Schuldgefühle (feeling of guilt) for Cullen & Samson would be really interesting!

THANK YOU MEL this was the perfect opportunity for me to noodle around with these two some more.

Please enjoy this installment of Kirkwall Kops

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 988

CW: Descriptions of a dead body; references to suicide

---

The apostate hung by the neck on a high lantern post, twisting slowly in the breeze blowing off the Lowtown harbor. The Kirkwall docks always smelled like vaguely rotten fish, and the stench of the corpse was doing nothing to improve it. Cullen brought his mailed fist to his nose to block the smell as he and Samson stared up at the grisly sight.

“Poor sod,” Samson muttered. 

Cullen couldn’t help but agree. They’d been assigned to the summons from the City Watch, whose missive reported a dead body that matched the description of one of their recent runaways. The Gallows held hundreds of mages, few of whom had made an impression on Cullen in the few months he’d been stationed in Kirkwall, but the crime had blurred this one’s features beyond recognition, even if he had. The face was bloated, the neck blackened, and the days had been especially warm lately, making messy work of the body. If it hadn’t been for the Circle robes and a distinctive tattoo winding up the apostate’s arm, he might never have been identified as one of theirs. 

“What was his name again?” Cullen asked. He felt bad that he couldn’t remember. 

“Trystan.” Samson sighed. “Trystan Marsh. All right lad. From Starkhaven originally, I think. Never had much to say.” 

Samson talked more with the charges than Cullen did; but then, he’d been here much longer. Trystan’s big escape had happened a couple weeks earlier, when he and a few other unhappy mages combined bedsheets, an ajar window and lax nighttime supervision to great effect. This one hadn’t been able to hack it in the outside world, apparently. There was no indication what had become of the other apostates.

“Did he give any indication he wanted to… you know?” Cullen didn’t know why it was so difficult to say. He felt guilty for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He certainly hadn’t been the knight on duty when Trystan and the others had escaped, but something about the volatile nature of so many of the Kirkwall mages brought up complicated feelings in him.

He had made his peace with the reality that they weren’t all Uldreds in the making, and fearing so was overreaction. However, despairing mages were dangerous mages, whether to others or themselves. For every clever caster who made it off the Gallows, there were several more desperate bids for a different kind of escape. The problem was getting so bad Meredith was considering putting bars on all the windows, even the ones several stories above the bay. 

Cullen harbored few illusions about this. It was difficult to make mages lives’ bearable when they were confined to a bleak rock in the middle of the water, in a structure full of narrow nooks and dark crannies. It depressed him at times, and the Templar barracks got most of the day’s sunlight. If the public safety benefits weren’t so obvious… 

Samson gave him a sharp look, one eyebrow cocked so high it was almost comical. “You think he did this to himself? Look with your eyes, kid.”

Startled, Cullen turned back to the hanged man. He’d been absorbed in the tragedy of it, ignorant of certain signs that suddenly presented themselves with disturbing clarity. The lantern post protruded from the side of a building, one with no discernible ledge beneath it to stand on, and the cobblestones below were empty. His wrists, hung limp at his sides, were chafed raw, as if he’d been bound. 

Cullen’s throat tightened. He dropped his hand and stared at Samson. “He was already dead when he was put up there.” 

Samson let out a slow breath. “Sure seems like it.”

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know.” Samson’s grey eyes went unfocused as he gazed toward the mouth of the shadowy alley.

“We have to report this,” Cullen said, a nervous sort of excitement encroaching on his voice. “It’s murder.”

Samson seemed to be barely listening. “Meredith won’t like it.” 

“So?” Cullen retorted. “Since when have you cared about what Meredith thinks?” It was, in fact, a favorite pastime of Samson’s to complain about their Knight-Commander and the various ways she found his very existence offensive. 

“That’s not what I mean.” Samson returned his attention to Cullen. He had an intensity to him Cullen found rare in people. When Samson looked at you, he seemed to really see you, and care about what he saw. There were also times when his gaze meant he wanted you to see something the way he did, and Cullen was usually anxious to oblige. “She’ll try to bury it. One less apostate to reckon with? She’d probably shake this sick fuck’s bloody hand.” 

“I don’t think she’d go that far,” Cullen said, though even as he said it, he felt uncertain. Meredith had taken a certain liking to him since he’d arrived in Kirkwall, with frequent check ups to gently steer him in the right direction since his disastrous exit from Kinloch Hold. He had noticed a through line in their discussions were her concerns about security in the Gallows and the ongoing threat of blood magic. But would those concerns trump murder? Cullen couldn’t picture it. 

Samson shook his head. “She’ll take it from us for sure. Two miscreants in charge of a murder investigation?”

“Speak for yourself,” Cullen quipped. 

“From her point of view. You’re a miscreant-by-association, at the least.” 

Cullen sighed. “So what are you suggesting we do?” 

“Don’t know yet.” Samson rubbed his unshaven chin; his joints cracked as he worked his jaw. “Who wants escaped mages dead is a question. And it what it means to string ‘em up like that.” 

Cullen glanced uneasily up at Trystan Marsh’s body. “To send a message,” he said, feeling a chill despite the heat of the day. 

“Right. But to who? Other mages?” Samson’s gaze joined Cullen’s, lingering on the tight knot of the noose. “Or to us?” 

#cullen rutherford #raleigh samson #kirkwall kops #i got really into this mystery #do i have any idea where it's going? NOPE #sounds like a problem for another night #love writing them in buddy cop shenanigans tho #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

[witchstone]

Could U elaborate on born in the usa-ification of Ethel Cain! If U want haha

yeah sure! anything to talk about bruce springsteen

upfront: so i used 'born in the usa-ification' as a throwaway term to describe what i think is going to happen, but after thinking about it for more than five seconds i realised how greatly the songs parallel each other.

i don't know how much you know about the context surrounding born in the usa but to give a brief rundown: it's a song that's critical of the usa involvement in the vietnam war and how it failed those very veterans it sent there in the years afterwards. bruce springsteen has always been vocal about his opposition to war, and he's always been vocal specifically about this song, even though the lyrics very clearly speak for themselves. despite this, the song started being trotted out as a ra ra fuck yeah america! anthem, notably by reagan (i think trump did too, off the top of my head)

it's an upbeat song, so if you've only ever heard the chorus i can, to an extent, imagine why you'd be under the impression that it's a pro-america song. but literally, all you have to do is take a look at the lyrics to see why that's not the case (and you should take a listen and have a read!)

it's probably worth noting here that i don't necessarily think it's an unpatriotic song, rather it's patriotic for the people rather than the kind of blind allegiance to a government (that's determined to get you killed) expectation of what patriotism is.

i don't dip my toes very far into ethel cain's fanbase, nor do i really know what the mainstream attitude towards her music is, so this is (reasonable imho) speculation, especially now that obama shared american teenager on his top 25 songs of the year or w/e. likewise, it's an upbeat song! but i'm certain that if it hits the mainstream it'll be lauded as a anthem dedicated to the american teenaged experience (positively). i can't imagine it being trotted out at rallies, but i can imagine certain lines being used in things made by and made for teenagers in this sense. the i do what i want refrains, i do it for daddy etc etc, all while ignoring how bleak it is, on a personal level, on a community level, on a national level.

i've never really connected the two songs before but i actually untangle them now. born in dead end towns, alienation, dead soldiers, upbeat tunes with synth music (very different from miss cain's usual m.o). they complement each other greatly

#thank you anon i really enjoyed getting to think more deeply about this one! #sorry someone else could probably articulate this better but it's 32 degrees and i'm a beer in #letters #anon #ethel cain #bruce springsteen #born in the usa #could probably give a much more in depth break down with more sobriety and time

[dothwrites]

the great escapist, a la, goodbye bedlund, the writer of my heart. i'll never love another like ye

just a few impressions:

CAS IS SO SMART! he uses what he's learned of humanity to trap the angels, and i can't help thinking that no other angel would have ever been able to do that. no other angel would have been able to see any worth in humanity.

crowley's crush on dean! it starts here! "i could have played dean" hmmmm, he wants to get inside of dean... his psyche that is...

there are a lot of people who got a really bad hand dealt to them in spn, but kevin has to be one of the worst. his story is so bleak, and it gets worse when you realize that he didn't choose any of it. almost all the other characters in the story CHOSE hunting and the supernatural life, one way or another, but kevin didn't. in fact, he routinely was looking for a way out because he knew that it was going to kill him.

remember when we liked metatron? remember when we thought he was going to be an ally? ha! (also, the DISGUST in dean's voice when he says "you've been reading books". i know he doesn't mean it like "reading books is bad" but it's just funny to me.)

cas is so fucking METAL. hiding the angel tablet literally inside his vessel, digging a bullet out of his gut and shoving into an angel's eye? literally NO ONE is doing it like him.

sam recounting the stories from his past and how dean took care of him. there's an interesting thing here, if you want to dig into it--sam says he recalls going to the grand canyon, while dean says he's never been. sam recalls dean reading to him, while dean doesn't remember that. now you could blame the faulty nature of memories, or point to the fact that some things are more important to people than others--maybe dean reading to sam was important to sam because it was dean taking care of him, while for dean, it was just something to do, but the grand canyon story is so interesting to me! (i know it's just because spn is a SUPER long running show and continuity details were always slipping through the cracks, but if you're willing to go down the rabbit hole, it's a really interesting trip. are sam's trial memories made up? is he creating happy memories for himself? are they planted? hard to believe that dean would forget something that sounds like such a happy time)

#doth watches spn

[townofcadence]

@foxedthecards continued from here!

A bleak silence greeted Artair's voice with no reaction on the part of the sopping wet little redhead sprawled out in the road. Then with a pathetic little drawn-out whine, he toppled over, landing with a splat in the puddle beside him. Huh. Talk about predictive text.

" I'm fihhinnnneeeeeeee.... " he worbled out looking very much the opposite. " I'm good. Great even. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. 'Cause it's uh....one in the mornin'? And I’m here in this little shithole of a town hours outside of Vegas with a brunch gig tomorrow morning at the Silver Strand Casino and that...that was the last bus out of here for the night. The last bus."

He gestured with a dramatic flair worthy of a death scene on a stage." Look at it. There it goes. I'm fucked...I never should have come to Ass Springs or...whatever this wanna-be Little Vegas calls itself. "

He slowly sat back up, flipping his limp red hair out of his face. " God. I need to find a bar and drink myself stupid right now. You know any good places or do all the bars close here after 11? Or I dunno. Maybe at this rate I should just lay back down and hope a car runs me over. I could collect insurance at least. Maybe? I dunno. Uh...Who are you again? "

Oh this man was not fine. He's loathe to use a word like pathetic for anyone-- the connotations are just too negative, and everyone gets down on their luck now and again. But this man is doing his best impression of a wet gym sock on a locker-room floor, and the description crosses his mind before he shoves it away. The guy's gesticulating and flopping on the wet ground (maybe it had been raining earlier?), and he doesn't know what to do but stay where he is, and keep an eye out for cars in case he has to drag this man from the middle of the street to safety.

It kinda gives him the impression of a sopping puppy, when the guy raises himself from the puddle, hair limp in his face. Artair's mouth creases all the more as Jonah speaks. Clearly, the guy doesn't want to be here, though the idea of preferring Vegas and calling this place a 'shithole of a town' is-- nigh incomprehensible. If this place is barren to you, what the hell was Vegas like? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

But either way, it seems the guy really needs a win. Jumping right to drinking or getting run over was... definitely a choice. It's hard to tell if the dramatic movements are theatrical or because he really is that miserable. But maybe he can.... at least nudge him, either way? Help some?

"Uh. Just a guy who saw you laying in the street." Artair finally answers the question Jonah had levied at him, after a beat of consideration. "I thought something might be wrong. I guess it was?" He shrugs, mouth all the thinner and brows creased with an upward slide near the bridge of his nose. He scratches at his chin and then his cheek, looking skyward with a hum. The drizzle is still gentle, and the occasional drop makes the spikes of his hair bounce when they collide. Neon highlights the drops and the wet tips of his hair alike, but it's only a background thought to the current predicament of the wet guy's plight.

His gaze breaks away from the overhead clouds, and he slips his phone from his pocket, shielding it with a hand from any raindrops. His free hand taps against the screen to unlock it. "Sorry, don't hink I can help on that front, I'm just visiting and I've never been here before. But.....mmmm. Honestly, I can't tell you what to do, and we don't know each other. But I might--- personally, I might put drinking on the back-burner? I mean that was the last bus, but there's gotta be other options if you're just looking for transport."

He pulls up firefox, and starts tapping in a search. "You gotta get there tomorrow, right? What about using one of those driving services? Like Uber or Lyft or whatever. They're not as cheap as a bus, but they might get you where you want to go, if it's not crazy far from here." And Vegas was a huge city, so if they were close enough to the outskirts, there's probably someone looking to play taxi. Or hell, maybe there'd even be a actual taxi service around.

#City Limits #rp #jonas #foxedthecards #//he's a wet paper bag of a man xD #ic Artair

[satanfemme]

I wish more people tried that "I like all genres of music except for X" thing with me cause I really am in the perfect position to shut that shit down myself. here's my ultimate fantasy. I ask some normie what music they listen to. instead of giving me a real answer, which is probably just pop, they say "everything except for country haha". I act SUPER impressed right off the bat, like "really?? all genres? oh wow!!! that's really cool - you know I don't find people with the same music tastes as me very often -" at this point I'm growing visibly excited. "this is so great!" you can hear my smile in my voice. and I go on, gushing and rambling on about how perfect - validating, even - it is to FINALLY relate to someone else, to share a musical interest with someone. yeah, I'd REALLY milk it. "not even my friends like my music", "maybe we could even go see a show together sometime...? lol jk.... unless?" etc etc. build the anticipation to a genuinely annoying degree. even throw some casual sadcringe in there too, like I'm pathetically fucking desperate here, like my whole bleak music-centered world just lit up at the possibility of a new friend (perhaps even my first friend...?) and now all the casual self loathing is leaking out with the relief. and then, RIGHT as they're just about to interrupt me to get me to shut up, I insist on putting on some tunes "for both of us to enjoy :-)". NOISE.

GRATING INDUSTRIAL NOISE.

HIGHLY EXPERIMENTAL. NOT ONLY UNLISTENABLE, BUT ALSO PHYSICALLY PAINFUL TO SOME DEGREE.

and I'd love it! it'd be shit I'm for real into. but ohhhohohohhhhhh would I be pushing my pirated spotify app into the deepest crevices of my musical library's iceberg.

and what are they gonna say?

what could they possibly say at this point? it's not country. and they said they like "anything but country". you know I'm not gonna crack either, so no way in hell are they gonna be able to casually laugh this off as a joke - not without offending me. they know this. they can hear my genuine tone, they know how serious I am about this. they know they're trapped, and their face ping pongs between hell, mordor, and the nether as they search for an escape hatch. we're in a car. going 90 down the highway. GPS says 1 hour 30 minutes left until our destination, and was their seat belt always so tight at their neck? the doors are locked. if they're brave, maybe, they could try and side step the social faux pas by simply suggesting I show them "another band" or (if they're a clever, equally-matched opponent) "this is great, really, but I'm not feeling it right now at this specific moment. do you have anything a bit, errr, softer?" oh! don't worry, I do!!!!!! haha! haha yeah, lol, uhm give me just a second to switch out this disc with th--

TRAP CARD! we're listening to my necrophilia playlist now. and I'm turning it up.

#HHDHDJFNGJVNGGNK #thats not a real playlist I have but it'd be VERY easy to make out of my larger halloween playlist #love the dead by alice cooper; now that you're dead by the used; blood by billy cobb; etc #I could go on