#first of all op fuck you for this entire post
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the op of that "you should restart your computer every few days" post blocked me so i'm going to perform the full hater move of writing my own post to explain why he's wrong
why should you listen to me: took operating system design and a "how to go from transistors to a pipelined CPU" class in college, i have several servers (one physical, four virtual) that i maintain, i use nixos which is the linux distribution for people who are even bigger fucking nerds about computers than the typical linux user. i also ran this past the other people i know that are similarly tech competent and they also agreed OP is wrong (haven't run this post by them but nothing i say here is controversial).
anyway the tl;dr here is:
you don't need to shut down or restart your computer unless something is wrong or you need to install updates
i think this misconception that restarting is necessary comes from the fact that restarting often fixes problems, and so people think that the problems are because of the not restarting. this is, generally, not true. in most cases there's some specific program (or part of the operating system) that's gotten into a bad state, and restarting that one program would fix it. but restarting is easier since you don't have to identify specifically what's gone wrong. the most common problem i can think of that wouldn't fall under this category is your graphics card drivers fucking up; that's not something you can easily reinitialize without restarting the entire OS.
this isn't saying that restarting is a bad step; if you don't want to bother trying to figure out the problem, it's not a bad first go. personally, if something goes wrong i like to try to solve it without a restart, but i also know way, way more about computers than most people.
as more evidence to point to this, i would point out that servers are typically not restarted unless there's a specific need. this is not because they run special operating systems or have special parts; people can and do run servers using commodity consumer hardware, and while linux is much more common in the server world, it doesn't have any special features to make it more capable of long operation. my server with the longest uptime is 9 months, and i'd have one with even more uptime than that if i hadn't fucked it up so bad two months ago i had to restore from a full disk backup. the laptop i'm typing this on has about a month of uptime (including time spent in sleep mode). i've had servers with uptimes measuring in years.
there's also a lot of people that think that the parts being at an elevated temperature just from running is harmful. this is also, in general, not true. i'd be worried about running it at 100% full blast CPU/GPU for months on end, but nobody reading this post is doing that.
the other reason i see a lot is energy use. the typical energy use of a computer not doing anything is like... 20-30 watts. this is about two or three lightbulbs worth. that's not nothing, but it's not a lot to be concerned over. in terms of monetary cost, that's maybe $10 on your power bill. if it's in sleep mode it's even less, and if it's in full-blown hibernation mode it's literally zero.
there are also people in the replies to that post giving reasons. all of them are false.
temporary files generally don't use enough disk space to be worth worrying about
programs that leak memory return it all to the OS when they're closed, so it's enough to just close the program itself. and the OS generally doesn't leak memory.
'clearing your RAM' is not a thing you need to do. neither is resetting your registry values.
your computer can absolutely use disk space from deleted files without a restart. i've taken a server that was almost completely full, deleted a bunch of unnecessary files, and it continued fine without a restart.
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❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞
part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me
chapter summary:
[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]
[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ]
| best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,
contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.
a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡
There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.
It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—
There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.
Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.
And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"
And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.
"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.
"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.
"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."
You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.
It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.
On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.
But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.
Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.
A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.
You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?
"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.
Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.
As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.
A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."
Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.
"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'
Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.
Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.
Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."
"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."
Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."
If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"
Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.
"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."
Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.
"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."
"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"
You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."
You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.
"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.
And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.
As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.
"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."
You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."
"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."
"Bye, Hel!"
Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"
Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"
The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.
"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.
Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."
You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"
"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."
You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."
"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.
Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.
Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.
You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.
Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.
It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.
He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.
And it intrigued you.
You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.
"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.
"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."
His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"
"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."
He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"
"No, why?"
"You're too... forward."
You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"
And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.
At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."
In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.
"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."
It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.
So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.
"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.
Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.
He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."
You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"
He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.
You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"
He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.
"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."
"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.
"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."
"Okay."
You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.
He speaks up. "Yes?"
You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."
His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"
You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.
It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.
"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"
"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"
"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."
You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.
"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."
His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.
"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."
You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.
"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."
"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.
"Honestly?"
He places the wineglass down. "Yes."
You smile. "Yes."
You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.
It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.
"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"
You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.
So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?
You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."
He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.
"And what is me and you?"
"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."
"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.
And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.
His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"
He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."
You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.
"Shut up."
He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"
"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.
You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."
"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"
"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."
You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."
He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"
You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."
"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."
You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."
"No need for insults," he deadpans.
You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."
"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."
"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."
"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"
"Ñuha riña—"
"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"
He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.
"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"
"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.
"What's the difference?"
"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."
"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."
"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"
You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."
"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."
There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.
It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.
It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.
He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.
Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.
"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"
"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."
It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.
You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.
"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"
"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.
"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."
He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.
"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"
He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."
"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.
Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.
Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.
You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'
Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.
'Noice'.
Another ping.
'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.
You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.
TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr
#aemond angst#cregan stark x reader#best friend's brother!aemond#aemond fluff#cregan smut#hotd fluff#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x you#hotd x you#hotd smut#cregan stark x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aemond fanfiction#aemond crack#aemond targaryen x reader#tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ
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in no particular order, here are my favorite fics that i've read this year!! please show a lot of love to all of these wonderful authors <3 (also please heed their rules, esp for nsfw fics!!)
part of my 2023 wrap up!
@koqabear
um like. quite literally everything sol has posted this year. i am being so serious. check out their masterlist right NEOWWWW and read EVERYTHING
@blackhairedjjun
flowers of every color — i could rave about this series for like 10 hours straight, i'm not even kidding. it's sweet with the perfect amount of angst to really draw you in, i fell in love with every character more and more with each chapter <3 now where is my prince!jjunie :(
@tyunkus
amazon wishlist (m) — me when me when me when roommate!tyun offers to fuck me...god, i need this so bad
@jishyucks
gloves & dittany — OHHHHH how i love this fic...one of the best harry potter aus i have ever read, and with yeonjun?? slytherin!yeonjun!!!! ooooo you really got me good, op <3
bittersweet — *cowboy cat meme* DRUNK SOOOOOOOOOB i think this wins the award for being the cutest fic i read in the year of 2023
@beom-pyu
i can't swim, idiot! (m) — i will never not shut up about this fic...just faking married? with beomgyu?? with feelings involved??? yeah. Yeah <3
like the moon — merman!kai you will always be famous to me, one of my all-time favorites by far!!!!!
@toruro
answers (m) — this academic rival!taehyun fic had me screaming crying gnawing on my leg like wtf mika. how could you do this to me. i am dead now.
@hyukalyptus
something nice (m) — i went SOOOO insane over this fic like the dynamics were just. scrumptious. i love yeonkai i love this fic i love hp for writing this yes yes yes
like, never ever? (m) — ohhhh my god. this one really got me good,, dom best friend!beomgyu giving mc her first orgasm?? sign me tf up !!!!!!
@qqtxt
sway with me — i sent this in for their 1k event i just :')))) i love this so so so much!!!! dancing with yeonjun is my dream, so thank you for taking my request op!! <3
@hueareloved / @huenation
my love mine all mine (m) — the most tender and soft and SWEET nsfw fic i have ever read, so in love with this and sleepy lovesick jjunie AGHH brb rereading this
ditto — ohhhh how i love angst. amor's writing style is beautiful and it made this beomgyu fic that much more heart-wrenching <3
@huckleberrykai
laundry basket (m) — no bc this went CRAZYYY with the perv!mc thing, savored every single word of this kai fic tbh
comfy cozy (m) — CUTE AF. i am the biggest proponent of soft smut and berry writes it so well <3 i loveee soft yeonjun more than life itself
@aduh0308 / @banggyu0308
yeehaw (m) — OKAYYY cowboys!taejun fucking destroyed me like. i don't think i ever recovered from this
berry sorbet (m) — i need kai to be my soulmate rn wtf. cute n sweet and i loved it
@boba-beom
airport crush pt.2 (m) — the minute smiles told me she was working on airport crush pt.2 i passed away. nothing could have prepared me for this fic, it destroyed me in the best way...god, i need yeonjun so bad
trapped in your game (m) — i salivated. i quaked. i (s)creamed. best friend!yeonjun, please hmu </3
@napofamoon / @mazeinthemoon
you're the one love (m) — moonie ATE with this fallen angel!yeonjun fic!! i love sacrilege n this was just sooo hot
@tubatwo
workaholic — this made me giggle and kick my feet so hard...i love you cafe boss taehyun, pls marry me
@hyuk4ngel
honeymoon avenue — i. love. angst. and fay is exceptionally talented at writing it!! taehyun better watch out tho >:(
@mapofthemazeinthemirror / @afterbluehours
untitled (m) — this yeonbin x reader fic is SOOOO hot like. i screamed. i cried. i rolled around in a fetal position because it just made me so insane
@nightlyawnzz
duality (m) — OHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYY GODDDDDDD i think this is one of the hottest kai fics i have ever read in my entire life. i don't often see kai as a hard dom in fics so this opened my eyes (can't wait for the final part!!)
@scintillasofbeomgyu
you are in love — one of my jjunie comfort fics!!! sweet n soft and everything to me :')
@petrichor-han
twenty-three suns (m) — rain's writing style hits me straight in the gut, especially with this summer fling au with taehyun :') lovely yet heart-wrenching and AGHH i love this
@ncteez
untitled (m) — UMMM this camboy!yeonjun fic altered the trajectory of my entire life. i fucking die every time i read this, like it has to be laced with crack or something
menace (m) — this was batshit INSANE LIKEEEE gangster!yoongi fucked me up so bad (in the best way)
@yeonboy
never meet your heroes — ONE OF MY FAVS EVER. LIKE. COLLEGE AU WITH SOOBIN???? I AM SO OBSESSED YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND
@ijhyo
how to get the girl — i ate this up SO hard. i just adore both the mc and beomgyu's characters in this, definitely another all-time favorite of mine
@cheolhub
head (m) — SAR YOU WERE INSANE FOR THIS. sub!soobin makes me so feral and this made my brainrot even worse UGHHH
@starbandit
backseat (m) — oh. oh yeah. now this is everything to me, best friend!yeonjun + car sex = a very very happy me
@tonicandjins
learning languages (m) — i don't often read donghyuck fics (or nct fics in general), but this one. oh, this one is beautiful. it made me cry, it made go through so many emotions i just. read this right now, you won't regret it
@heart2beom
cliche — i still vividly remember this first time that i read this, the dialogue is hilarious and it is just sweet n fluffy n AGHH i will forever adore this fic <3
and some more accounts with amazing fics!!!: @majestyjun @hyewka @taegimood @naomiarai @hyuk4sbf @fairyofshampgyu @enha-cafe @moonhoures @wolfytae-exe @dearlyjun @heartchoi @sook9i @tinietaehyun @minastras
a big thank you to all of these writers for sharing your works!! <3
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#Op I need u to know I thought this was about his post-coytal bedside manner when I read the first line#was fully expecting you to wax poetic about how Ed's mediocer attempt at making breakfast was actually a heartfelt attempt to make sure#he didn't feel like he was a One And Done type of thing#I was vibrating#and then it was s1 meta 💀 RIP LMAO (@zo1nkss, on this post)
No, absolutely, let's talk about it. Because this?
This is terrible. Comically bad. The worst anyone's ever done it, I'm sorry to say. The toast looks like it's covered in coal dust. The tea (? I hope it's tea, might as well be Ye Olde Cuba Libre) has clearly gone cold. Ed spooned the marmalade directly onto the tablet instead of just leaving it in the jar like a sane person, for fuck's sake!
Of course that's deliberate; they even make sure we know what the platonic ideal of a nice breakfast tablet looks like with the title card.
It's like an Expectation vs Reality meme. There's a flower, there's porcelain, there's even a plate! Ed, I know you've had breakfast before, why are you so bad at this?
Because, of course, this was doomed from the start.
Ed is panicking, because he knows falling into bed together right after everything that happened in 02x06 was a mistake, and he's desperately trying to salvage the situation.
Ed wanted to take things slow, because he wants stability. He wants to pursue happiness. He wants to build a beautiful life with someone he loves! Breakfast in bed every day!
Instead he to watch the love of his life be tortured in front of him, because of him, and then had to watch him intentionally kill a guy for the first time in his life - also because of him! This is the opposite of what he wanted, for himself or for Stede.
He wanted them both to be safe and happy, but instead they had an evening of horrible experiences and then had sex about it. It's all coming crashing down. Aside form the worst breakfast spread in known history, look how the scene is shot and coloured: The slightest green tint, just enough to turn the light harsh and cold, how far apart from each other they are. Tons of empty space in the frame. How they are backlit, so they are in the shadows, their faces barely discernible.
This isn't a happy Morning After. This is them standing at the ruins of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment, but the violence of piracy broke into it and destroyed it.
Ed knows he needs to leave it behind, once and for all. Throws out his Blackbeard kit to make his decision to abandon the pirate life irreversible. Tries to have a soft, domestic moment, shares the lovely story about Merstede coming to rescue him, in an attempt to salvage his dream of retirement with Stede.
But Stede? Oh, Stede is on an entirely different page. He just had his first real taste of the power violence can grant him. While the torture wasn't fun, in the end, he triumphed! Defended his love, defended his crew! And topped it all off with what was probably the first positive sexual experience in all his 40whatever years of life! He's patronizing and kinda bitchy about the whole spread, because he doesn't get what Ed is trying to tell him. All he sees is Ed being terrible at this domestic bullshit, but that's okay because he thinks he's terrible at it too!
They'll just sail the seas, terrorize the various empires and have adventures together, forever and ever! That's the dream, right? Right???
(Wait, what do you mean Last night was a mistake?)
#THEY NEED TO TALK TO EACH OTHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR#SO BAD#god will they ever have 1 single conversation this is driving me nuts honestly#yk the more i think about it the more i love that izzy sung the soundtrack to their first time#because it makes it just SO awkward and uncomfortable#& i think thats the point#this was never going to work. not like this#yes i know i have already written a thousand posts on how bad ed and stede are at communicating. i will write a thousand more.#our flag means death#ofmd s2 spoilers#blackbonnet#thoughts
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do re mi, abc – steve harrington
this entire blog is 18+. minors dni. shoo.
this entire post is nsfw. no minors. none. i don't want to see you here. go read something else, shoo!
the title should (hopefully) make it a bit more obvious. nothing gets the girlies going like a nsfw alphabet!! these are all my hot takes, so if you don't like 'em, i can't hear you (:
a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
steve harrington is an angel. an affectionate motherfucker. after sex before sex and during sex, he's full of love and he's nothing but a sweetheart. asks you if you need a snack, water, cleans you up– but not before holding you against his chest for a solid 10+ minutes. shit, there have been times you guys take a little nap together all curled up. he'll take the best care of you, though; running you a bath if you're sore afterwards and throwing towels into the dryer so they're warm and fluffy for you, ordering food if you're too hungry for a snack but too tired to cook, and making sure the bed is tidied and made so you can lounge together and be little home bodies, which is something he only recently realized he adores with you.
b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
as much as people know him as steve "the hair" harrington, he's a big fan of his hands. not just because he likes them, but he knows you like them. the way you'll stare when he's handing you a coffee, when he's had to manipulate that bat of his, the way you fluster when he's setting his hand on your thigh while he drives. the biggest and his most favorite thing about his hands, though, is how useful they are in regards to you. how would he be able to hold your hands if he didn't have any? how would he bring you flowers, coffees, treats, things that remind you of him? how would he lift you up to fuck you in the shower?
when it comes to you, as much as he wants to act like he's just some man easily swayed by something like your boobs– not that he's not, he could stare at them for days, anytime you guys are about to argue and he sees them it just turns into sex instead– his favorite part of you is your neck. it should be obvious, really with how he'll give it hickies for days, he'll mash his face into the crook of your neck to provide you both comfort, the way he treats it so tenderly when you ask him so nicely to wrap his hand around it. it's the home of your vocal chords, and there's no sound he loves more than the sound of your voice, so he worships the place it originates from, obviously!
c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
in the beginning of your relationship, steve tries to stay normal about this. he'll keep it safe, wrap it up and toss away the condom, an occasional load on your tongue if you've got your lips wrapped around him and won't let go, the odd time or two he missed you so dearly that the first kiss back had him cumming in his pants.
now, later in your relationship and later into his development from carefree teen to tired babysitter and grown man, that greatly changes. he's embarrassed at first, to tell you that he doesn't see himself with anyone other than you. getting over that? it's a slippery slope to raw-dogging it. it's also at this time the two of you get far more comfortable; he loves when you soak his face, arm, pelvis, chest the first time he let you grind against his jungle of curls. he also loves to do the same to you, always promising and following through to clean you up after, whether it's on your thighs, stomach, just ontop of your folds, your chest, back. the first time he doesn't manage to pull out in time, though?
let's just say steve discovers something new about himself. he always knew he wanted to be a dad, as many little harringtons as you'd allow him. he never thought you using that against him as dirty talk would have him going round after round in the hopes that maybe, oh maybe, it would take.
d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
steve is very open about many things. you adore his lack of filter from his very obvious puppydog nature, and he never quite understands why people would hide these kinds of things. one thing he will take to the grave, however, is he knows where all your pairs of panties are going. the black lace ones you just bought that seem to have vanished in the washing machine? you'd never suspect your sweet stevie to be the culprit, you'd just assume he was being polite and the sweetest boy, offering to do the laundry this week.
you know full well it's him, it's why you've gone from buying expensive pairs of nice underwear to getting slightly cheaper, so that when your stevie slips it off of you and it's never seen again, you're only down 10-15 dollars instead of 40.
he can't help it, he excuses it as nothing but unwaivering love for you. how much and how greatly he feels about you effects him all the time, even leaving him to jack off holding your pretty little panties against his cock as he strokes it when you haven't been around much.
e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
steve harrington is well-experienced in hook-up culture. he can fuck and chuck like a professional athlete. staying long enough that domesticity is sexy, though? a whole new ball-game for him. the longest relationship he's had was with nancy, and we all know how that ended. he's not used to being at a point in a relationship where he can say that, yes, the idea of fucking a kid into you is so unbelievably hot. give him time, give him safety, and make sure steve feels loved and appreciated.
f = favorite position (this goes without saying)
steven harrington, the man that you are. he adores you, wants nothing more than to look you in the eyes, watch your face contort whenever he does something new or fucks you a little deeper. anything with you two looking each other in the eyes is his favorite, missionary the standard, a cowgirl here and now to mix things up. his absolute favorite, though? it has to be those times when your legs go from around his waist to your legs going over his shoulders, calves on either side of his head, caged in underneath him.
you'd called it something weird, a mating press or something along the likes, and he doesn't care to know the name. all that matters is he swears to hell, heaven, and beyond that he can watch himself bulge in that pleasant little expanse of skin that shields your insides, can feel the gummy kiss of your cervix against his tip, and god the sight of you falling apart when he gets you both oriented like this.
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
while steve is a mostly silly guy, he tries to keep things serious in the bedroom. sure, he'll say something a little teasing that'll make you smile and giggle, maybe something that even earns a full-on laugh that he normally utilizes to press his girth inside of you. but overall? he's stone-cold serious. we've seen how intimate this man is (which i'll touch more on later), so keeping the vibe all about how much he loves and cares about you, adores making you feel good– that's the goal!
there have been times though, don't get me wrong, where there are goofs that basically make the whole rest of the moment a gigglefest. the time you guys broke your bed? hilarious! steve felt a mixture of guilt and overwhelming pride knowing he– literally– rocked your world so well he broke your bed, so he offered to foot the bill for a new bed, even helping set it up and test it out. the time he nearly dropped you in the shower? not as funny when it happened, but afterwards you still refuse to let him lift you against the tile.
h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
this is another demonstration of steve's growth as a person. closer to his king steve days– when he was still pretty active on the swim team and all, mind you– he was pretty close to completely shaven. sure, he kept it just neat and trimmed down below the belt with a thin little happy trail, but that's it.
now when it comes to his starcourt days, as he let his chest hair start to grow out, he did the same all the way down. it got a little ridiculous at one point– he was mortified when you got a pube in your throat and nearly threw up because it just wouldn't dislodge itself– but that was enough for him to know you love that steve prefers leaning closer to natural.
nowadays? that man has a happy trail to drive you crazy, he keeps it as neat and tidy as he can near his dick without cutting himself but it's still got something there. he heard someone say it was a sign of masculinity somewhere, never really could get back to the entire bare-naked routine.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
okay. this is the fun part. we all know steve is a hand-holder during sex, that he's got chronic cling problems, and that he's nothing but a golden retriever in a human form. but it's so much worse because you return it, actively seeking him out whenever. hell, the first time you told him you loved him, he was balls deep! it's no wonder sex gets him all mushy with you; every time he sees that blissed-out look on his face, he's reminded of the fact that, yes, there are women out there who love him, and you're the one who loves him the most!
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
steve doesn't have the highest drive. i know, that's like sacrilege to say, but he really isn't he likes the touch of someone else. sure, if you left him right and riled before you're going off to work he'll quicky rub one out thinking about just how much he's gonna return the favour later after his own shift. but mainly? he prefers to get horny, seek you out, and rock your world for some time, then just get right back to life as if nothing happened.
now. as mentioned in the dirty secret section, he's a little panty thief. consider this the only non-emergent exception to steve's iron-will. if he's got a pair of your panties handy, he'll need enough time to basically wear those out. he'll be exhausted and not very good at hiding what he's been doing– a big reason for why he's not a big fan of giving himself a tug– and the only shred of decency he has is the fact that he knows to keep his little tools hidden.
k = kink (one or more of their kinks)
praise kink. this should be a given, the man will whimper so pretty for you if you tell him just how good he's doing at making sure you won't be able to walk at work tomorrow.
free-use. it takes a long time to drag this out of him, and it also happens entirely accidentally. you were just trying to wake him up on his birthday with some breakfast-and-head (he still hates that you won't just be normal and stick to breakfast in bed, but the name always has a little smile on his face), but god the way he moaned for you because you were just going for him, unprompted. needless to say, it started quite the conversation.
hair-pulling. come on. look at that fluffy crown atop his head! give it a tug at those beautiful brown roots, watch him have to stop his thrusts for a minute so he just lose all composure and piston into you until you cry.
breeding kink. there is no good goddamn way in hell you can have sex with this man without him letting loose inside you. if you don't? god, the whimpers that leave that man's lips. "baby, please, did so good for you-" "honey, sweetheart, please, y'killing me here-" "please, i'll clean you out after, just can't stop, you're so good to me"
bondage. this is a post-starcourt development. he's still scared and felt out of control about being tied, beaten, tortured. it was actually recommended to him by a therapist to explore that, to regain control however he can, help himself slowly get over that. so when steve's felt especially out of sorts, you two will set some time aside, plan something out, usually with him in fuzzy cuffs with a safeword in place. it's really the trust that gets him going, but the fact that he has to put his pleasure entirely in your hands and you just run with it, it makes him lose his mind in the best way possible.
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
call him old-fashioned, but he mostly prefers to keep anything going on between you two with clothes off to happen at home, in either his or your bed. that's not to say you two don't have a habit of going at it whenever you both feel like it. you've done it in the back of his beamer, his pool, the shower multiple times, the backroom of scoops ahoy (a one-time venture, you nearly froze the skin on your back off being held up against the walk-in for that long), the backroom of family video (robin can't prove it, but she knows it happened), even a few parties when you were both still in school. the best place in his mind, though? eddie's van. he had no idea why his backseats were soaked, and that was alllll you.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
all alone, steve is more focused on romance and intimacy. sure, he gets a stiffy now and again, but he can mostly ignore it if he's not entirely in the mood.
with you, though? the man is a live-wire, a cherry bomb– only a moment's notice away from cracking into flames, burning you with that fiery adoration. you're smiling at him? he's got last night on his mind, when that same smile was what triggered sloppy, messy, yet oh so tender sex. that pretty little sundress you've got on? the flashes of skin have him feeling like a pubescent teen again, all worked up. you being good with the kids? god, he can already picture you down the line, a little harrington in your arms while he makes breakfast, now he's hard and he needs you.
basically, you turn him on in general. it's hard for him to not get all excited when you are around, so tender, perfect.
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
degradation. steve is a sweetheart, already having more than enough problems with his parents, so please don't give him more. even if it's supposed to be hot– he can understand that lots of people are into that, really, but he can't grasp it for himself– it just makes him all insecure and ruins the time for him. just stay nice and sweet, just for him.
inflicting pain on you. anything above a smack on your ass or– more recently– a hand on your neck is a no. he could never hurt you, seeing you in pain triggers his protective instincts and kills his vibe entirely.
threesome. this one is a bit trickier, a little more of a gray area, but it's still enough to make steve uncomfy. he won't entertain the idea of bringing in another girl– he doesn't need more hands on him other than yours, that's more than enough for him– but he has, sheepishly, thought before about expanding his trust just enough to let a friend in at some point. the closest he'd gotten to accepting this as a reality was when you and him were stoned with robin and eddie, robin had run off to the house phone to call vickie, and eddie had been telling you– who had been so nicely playing with steve's hair and made him so drowsy you assumed he was asleep– that he'd never slept with anyone before. sure, he knew eddie had a reputation of being a freak, but with the growing kinship and the deep trust and understanding he started to feel for the other boy, he genuinely considered asking eddie if he'd want to give it a try with you two. he never got the balls to say it, though, but it still sits in his mind sometimes.
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
king steve would never consider going between a girl's legs. he believes in the toxic male stigma, that women are just around for a man's pleasure. after nancy, his mind changes slightly, but with the long time apart he changes.
now, though? steve harrington is a munch. he doesn't know if it's just because he loves the reactions he gets out of you– you get so loud and you pull his hair and your legs get hooked over his shoulders and it makes him feel so strong, not to mention he loves when he makes you feel so good you squirt and he gets a physical show of how good he did– or if it's because it's you, but he just adores it. (you know exactly why: steve harrington is a man of unwaivering service. he loves you, and he'll do whatever he can to show you that. plus you also know he just loves the way you taste, so he won't say no if you ask nicely. he's also whined about wanting to taste you before, so you know he actually enjoys it, but won't point it out to embarass him.)
in regards to receiving, he won't say no if you offer, but he's not going to be an asshole and ask/demand you to suck him off. he doesn't mind being woken up with your lips around him, but he won't wake you up to handle his morning wood. he enjoys it, sure, but not enough that it takes precedence over fucking you, so he won't necessarily choose it openly.
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
harrington is a very versatile man. that being said, he can do either or; he can fuck you like your lives depend on it (he can manage a quickie, or his jealous streak flaring up means he's got to pound you till your mascara's running from your pretty tears in the bathroom of the hideout), or make the sweetest, gentlest love of all time to you (nearly every time the upside-down gets him hurt or in danger, you two take the chance to affirm each other of the unrelenting love shared by the two of you).
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
while it's entirely possible, steve prefers not to do quickies often. sure, they've happened between the two of you before (see above, also at his work, your work, between picking up and dropping off the party of gremlins), but he prefers getting to take his time with you, slowly work you open and fuck you until you fall apart, then put you back together with all his love and tenderness.
r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
the more steve risks his life trying to save hawkins and protect the kids, the less he cares about considering things 'risky'. fucking you bareback? psh, he nearly died from those bats, it pales in comparison.
that being said, there are certain things he contemplates longer before actually trying it. one big thing is the whole idea of pegging. sure, he's heard some great things about it, even seen a couple decent pornos of it when he sneaks them from work, but the idea still spooks him; he's not sure how it would feel for him, whether he'd like it or not, how you'd react to the idea, etcetera etcetera.
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
'big boy' harrington isn't necessarily booksmart, but he's keen enough to know himself. he can go 1-2 rounds himself before he gets overstimulated and the aching throb of his cock starts to hurt more than it feels good (another thing he'll think about exploring one day with you, but definitely not soon), so he gets you handled first. if he doesn't have you falling apart 5-6 times when you guys have sex, he's disappointed in himself and convinced he did a poor job. reassure him that yes, he's doing amazing, he needs to take it easy on himself.
t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he'd never really thought about toys before you came around and introduced him to them. sure, the cuffs are a given (see kinks) and he knows lots of girls your age have vibrators, but when you two settle into something more serious than just a casual fling, he's letting himself warm up to the idea of them being more prevalent. things like you holding that wand vibrator of yours against your clit while he's fucking into you drives him crazy, the one time you held it between his hard cock and his balls when you were giving him head made him see stars; hell, even watching you ride that pink silicone cock had him clawing the walls like an animal!
as soon as he starts getting comfortable with you using them on him, he starts going out of his way to buy things he'd find fun. they start simple enough at first; cheesy bachelorette party gifts like edible underwear, sex dice, blindfolds. eventually though, he gets things like flavoured lubes, sensory balms, gags... he starts going a little wild, to the point where he's been given a monthly budget for these kinds of splurges so he doesn't go too overboard.
he's a curious man who just loves the hell outta you, let him indulge in all the weird things he sees and finds neat ):
u = unfair (how much they like to tease)
steve's a stubborn, impatient man. he can handle teasing only so long; both giving and recieving. it's like a time bomb, a countdown of restraint before he gives in, relenting to whatever carnal desires the two of you will be indulging in.
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
again, another instance of development; king steve would never be caught dead making noise in the sack. he's of that toxic mindset that he should be silent, only hearing his girl, and that it's just a fuck-and-done thing.
the new and improved steve, though? god. i cannot even begin to explain this without going feral. it starts simple enough; he'll growl, huff, puff, groan here and there. he'll even moan for you if you get him worked up or sensitive enough! later down the line when he realizes you're it for him, he gets a little more lucid. he'll start to whine for you if he's needy, even whimpering so pretty, and you really can't get him to shut up. he can start quiet, but most of the time you two have to usually shut each other up with a liplock, otherwise you will most definitely get caught or a noise complaint.
he's not even ashamed; he knows you love it, so as long as you're not too mean about him being loud, he'll continue to do so unashamed and unabashedly.
w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
steve doesn't need to see you in lingerie. most of it he finds tacky and overboard– sure, there's a few sets you've tried on before that have him gaping at you like a fish out of water, but those instances can be counted on two hands– and it's just more he has to take off of you. he does love you in as little as possible, though; his sweatshirt and panties? he's hard as a rock. a pretty sundress? he's got his hand on your knee and slowly working up. don't get him started on the mini skirts you wear to parties with no panties on underneath, or when you do wear them and take them off during the night to slip into his hand.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
steve harrington has a big dick. whether that's long and average width, or average length and girthy i'm not sure, but it's big. you've gotta be stretched open and worked properly, can't just go sticking it in and breaking you, now, can he?
it's also got a nice little upwards curve to it, something that your gag reflex doesn't love, but god does it hit all the right spots inside you so much easier.
we've all seen steve's arms, too, so you just know that he's got some pretty veins to it. not too much, just a few small ones up and down, but one large and pronounced vein on the underside that pulses so prettily when he's worked up. he's got some big, heavy balls too, ones that are extra sensitive, even just little touches have him writhing and gasping for air.
i also like to picture that his dick, much like that mane of hair, is uncut. au naturel, as the french would say.
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
steve had an average-for-a-teen-boy sex drive back in his king days. now? he's a little more mellowed out. that's a total fucking lie, this man would easily fuck you all day if he could. he's just so full of love and adoration and you wreck him, so it's only fair he does the same to you!
he'll settle with whatever you give him, though, as long as you know he loves you beyond anything else.
z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
this is another generalization: most of the time, he'll stay awake until you fall asleep. if you won't, whether it's because it was a quickie or you have something to do, he'll stay up with you, just being lazier because of all his expended energy.
now, when the exception applies, treasure it. there's nothing sweeter to the eyes than a sleeping steve harrington, conked out after a passionate encounter, hair all mussed up as he snores softly against the pillows, breathing all peaceful and tanned skin littered with hickies from your pretty lips.
#archers rambles#archers thoughts#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington headcanon#archer speaks#archers 18+ emporium#18+ mdni#18+ only
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@lazylittledragon did more Mombin (check it out here it's great) which I think means I might be contractually obliged to write more fic that is inspired by it. Like wowza I am obsessed with this concept
Tw: vomiting/morning sickness, reddit, discussions of cancer
Robin was dying.
That was the only explanation.
Dying.
And the worst part was, she was dying of something that was both incredibly funny, and incredibly sad, and she had been so desperate for answers that she had gone to a place no mortal should ever dare to go to.
Reddit.
Posted by u/familyvideobrokeme
I (24F) think that I might have breast cancer, and I have no idea how to tell my (25M) best friend.
So my best friend “Sam” and I have been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. He’s not just a friend to me, he’s my person (and before you get any ideas- I’m a lesbian, so no, not happening.) we tell each other everything, even the super gross stuff neither of us wants to hear- like seriously he’s asked me to check his ass to see if he managed to pop the pimple he found there before- so I’ve never been in this position before…
But I think I’m dying of breast cancer, and I have no clue how to start this conversation.
It just came on really suddenly??? Like last month I was fine, and this month my boobs just hurt in this really weird way I’ve never experienced before? Like I’m sore and tingly and my bras don’t fit?! Boobs are kind of a joke between us though, so I feel like if I just blurt it out then he will start saying ‘boobie cancer’ over and over at me and we will just end up laughing and he’ll think I’m kidding.
Sam is also my roommate? I don’t know if that matters here? I also haven’t gone to a doctor yet, but there isn’t anything else this can be, right? Nothing else just magically makes your boobs hurt and get big?
Robin had made the post at three am the night before while crying and eating Ben and Jerry’s, and she had forced herself to not look at replies all night, even going as far as to shut her phone off entirely.
But now it was the next day, and she had steadfastly ignored the notifications from Reddit all the way through Saturday Brunch and Bitch.
She couldn’t ignore them anymore.
“You’re good if I work a little?” Robin asked, pulling her laptop close to her and carefully angling it so Steve couldn’t see the screen.
“As you wish,” Steve muttered, completely absorbed with whatever dog video he was watching.
“Dingus,” She whispered affectionately, an odd mixture of love and guilt crashing in her chest as she opened the website and logged into her account. She had over a thousand notifications now, and the comments were still rolling in as she opened her post and scrolled down.
Endofthebeginningoftheend
OP are you sure you’re not in love with Sam
Grapenuts
Dude she said she’s a lesbian
View 564 more replies
Robin rolled her eyes. She had expected that, but she didn’t expect it to be the top comment. She quickly scrolled past.
Cheercaptainfromhell
OP I would definitely go to a doctor before anything else!
SmeddieSmunson
Seriously how has she gotten this far without going to a doctor??
The answer was easy. Robin was terrified of doctors. Why go to a doctor when Steve had EMT training?
Because in this instance she couldn’t ask Steve for help.
Robin kept scrolling.
Frenchiefreis
You might be pregnant honestly…I would take a test first
Headphilosopher
She’s a lesbian so I doubt it, but pregnancy can also cause those symptoms-
Robin snorted to herself, side eyeing Steve to make sure he didn’t look up when she did.
Did everyone just ignore the part where she said she was a lesbian?
…was Robin ignoring the part where being a lesbian didn’t mean fuck all when it came to her chances of getting pregnant?
Yes she was ignoring it because it was once just once and they had barely even gotten to do anything at all and-
Robin scrolled again, growing more and more desperate
Rummingbird
That doesn’t really sound like breast cancer to me My mom had similar things happen when she was pregnant though-
Another scroll. Another flutter of her heart.
No. It wasn’t that. She was dying. Dying was bad but the idea that she was…that she could be…
HyllyBRd
OP have you considered that you might be pregnant? I know that you’re a lesbian, but if you’ve had penetrative sex in the last month then you might want to consider-
“Are you going to be good for me?”
Robin gasped as the memory hit her, closing the reddit tab with a slam of her finger on the mouse pad, her entire body starting to softly shake as she panic opened a google tab.
Boobs hurt????
Not exactly the most scientific way of phrasing that question, but Robin needed an answer that didn’t involve nine long months of what the fuck. Luckily there was a read more question that got right to the heart of the issue.
What kind of breast pain indicates pregnancy?
It was going to say something completely different to what she had, and Robin was going to laugh, and then she would turn to Steve and let him know she was dying of boobie cancer.
It wasn’t going to be the same.
It wasn’t.
Robin looked at the screen.
Fuller. Sorer. Tingly pain that felt unlike anything else. Aka exactly what she had.
Robin’s fingers moved on autopilot, asking another question of Google
How late should my period be before I worry?
Worrying about what? She knew about what, but she couldn’t bring herself to type it, she couldn't even think of that word yet.
Google said after a week of missing your period it was time to see a doctor. Robin’s period was over three weeks late.
And a month ago-
A month ago…
“Fuck you’re so tight,” The woman above her whispered. Robin whimpered, unable to help herself as the stretch-
“I need to use the bathroom.” She blurted out, slamming her laptop shut and practically throwing it off of her, stomach twisting into knots.
“I’ll tell you what I tell my students Bobbin,” Steve said, barely looking up and completely unaware of her meltdown, “You don’t need to ask me for permission to go take care of your bodily functions,”
“Oh, shut up,” Robin replied, laughing breathlessly. It was such a stupid joke, such a meaningless stupid joke. But it was safe, and it was familiar, and if the sneaking suspicion creeping down Robin’s spine was true, then nothing would be safe and familiar again for a very long time.
She stood up, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Steve’s head as she walked by, just because that was familiar too and she needed it. Steve hummed, leaning over to bonk his head against her tummy as she passed him.
A bonk on the tummy that may or may not be-
Nope. It was a no. It was definitely a no. There was no possible way.
Robin was going to be sick.
She basically flew the last few steps to the bathroom, managing to lock it tight before she threw up in the sink. It was disgusting, and messy, and she pushed the tap on before kneeling down at the porcelain throne and continuing to hurl.
I need Steve.
It wasn’t even really a thought. She couldn’t think while throwing her guts up, that was an experience that required every bit of her attention and mind power.
No, not a thought, just an instinctual message from the universe, a pull from somewhere deep inside her that felt like more than just a truth.
Because Robin didn’t need Steve because she was throwing up. Or because she thought she might have boob cancer.
Robin needed Steve because she knew she was pregnant.
“Fuck me,” She groaned, leaning back from the toilet only to lean forward once more as the rest of brunch came back up.
#steve harrington#stranger things#st#st drabble#robin buckley#mombin#platonic stobin#Steve and robin#robin and steve#tw: vomit#tw: vomiting#tw: mentions of cancer
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The 'Batfam on Reddit' post was fun and I won't mind another one! (I have nothing specific in mind besides more sibling shenanigans)
Going down the list, here's Jason
———————
Posted to r/AmITheAsshole by user local-zombie
AITA for changing my grandpa's cookie recipe?
Earlier this week, one of my (22M) sisters decided to fill my rifle with purple glitter. As revenge, I swapped the salt and sugar before she made her waffles this morning. Prank worked, yada yada, that's not why I'm here though.
See, like a dumbass, I forgot to switch them back. I've been running on 4 hours of sleep and I'm not even home half the time, sue me. It didn't really hit me until I was watching my grandpa make his signature chocolate chip cookies.
This was some cinematic shit, I tell you. Everything happened in slow motion. Before I could say anything, he dumped an entire cup of salt into the batter followed by a teaspoon of sugar and started the stand mixer. It seemed then that all was lost.
Out of nowhere, my dad—and I can't believe I'm saying this—descended like an angel from the heavens and asked my grandpa to help him with his hair. And lucky for me, I'm the only other person trusted to be in the kitchen. My grandpa told me to put the cookies in the oven before he went upstairs.
This is where I might be the asshole.
I needed to fix the dough immediately, so I added extra sugar and chopped up some caramel candy to (hopefully) turn it into some halfway-decent salted caramel chocolate chip cookies. Then I scooped them out, threw them in the oven, and prayed harder than the goddamn Pope himself.
Apparently God had a high call volume though, because as soon as the plate hit the table, my ENTIRE family knew something was up, like a bunch of fucking detectives or some shit. And they immediately blamed me. They're not wrong, but the fact that that's their first reaction is totally unjustified.
Anyway, now my family's pissed off and my dad thinks I should've just told gramps, but I think trying to fix the situation should count for something. So, Reddit, AITA?
Comments
bluebirdz: Did they taste good?
|— local-zombie: Not like the original, but a solid 7/10
|—— bluebirdz: All's well that ends well. NTA
redrobin: yta
|— local-zombie: At least provide some reasoning
|—— redrobin: no
starfire: NTA but next time give them a heads up
|— your-tired-librarian: Also voting NTA but OP should've fessed up from the beginning.
|—— thatpurplething: I'm saying YTA for the waffle part
|——— orphanized: not relevant
|———— thatpurplething: It is to me
i-am-the-darkness-i-am-the-light: NTA for the way you handled it, that was pretty smart. YTA for tampering with food as a prank tho :/
notmysecretanimeaccount: You are indeed the donkey cavity for the poor setup and execution.
|— local-zombie: Dude just say ass
|—— notmysecretanimeaccount: Ass cavity. Happy?
|——— local-zombie: Not what I was thinking but I'll take it
|———— lesbian-premium: Congratulations on the worse conversation the internet's ever had
kyle-rayner: YTA. Just in general
assenal: nta. your family is overreacting
dickwings: soft yta. how would you feel if you were expecting one thing but got blindsided by something completely different?
|— local-zombie: I'd just deal with it instead of whining like a pissbaby pretty boy
|—— dickwings: nvm make that a hard yta
|——— local-zombie:🖕
kitty-central: ESH. You for what you did, your family for how they reacted
|— pennyworthy: At last, a sensible answer.
official-batman: YTA. And grounded.
#jason todd#red hood#dick grayson#tim drake#damian wayne#duke thomas#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#barbara gordon#harper row#kate kane#alfred pennyworth#selina kyle#bruce wayne#batman#red hood and the outlaws#batfamily#batfam#incorrect batfamily quotes#batbros#batboys#batgirls#batkids#batsiblings#batman family#incorrect quotes#incorrect dc quotes#dc comics#headcanon#tw swearing
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i totally understand why some people have read my posts about my recovery experience and been a bit freaked out by it if they haven't gotten top surgery themselves yet, and i also totally understand other people who have had top surgery wanting to reassure those people so they don't get scared out of having top surgery.
what i don't love is when, in an attempt to be reassuring, other people who have had top surgery say "well, my experience was much easier than this and yours might be too. don't be scared of having this kind of recovery, because you might not!"
if you had a super smooth top surgery recovery, i'm so happy for you and i'll be the first to admit that i envy you. i'm genuinely glad you got lucky! but i also know that, when i was preparing for top surgery, i wanted to know how to prepare for if i did have a rougher time and need more support, because being pleasantly surprised by a better time than you expected is much easier than being unpleasantly surprised by difficulties no one prepared you for. trying to find out how to prepare and being met with varying degrees of "don't worry, that didn't happen to me" was infuriating. the chorus of "that didn't happen to me" didn't do anything for me when one day post-op it took three people to figure out how to lift me into a sitting position without hurting me, and i never want anyone to find themselves in a situation like that totally unprepared. i worked really hard to get ready because i'm disabled and knew my body never has a chill reaction to anything, and i want other people to be able to prepare themselves too, whether they have a specific reason to or not.
not to mention, nothing in my experiences so far has been some worst case scenario that you should pray never happens to you. none of the things i've described in my posts have been complications; it's all just natural parts of recovering. every single time my surgeon has seen me, she's assured my that i'm healing perfectly so far. so yeah, things have been rough, but this isn't a horror story that i'm telling. it's not a warning or a cautionary tale. it's all totally normal and expected, even if it is more intense than some people's experiences. it just doesn't feel great to have my experience treated as something awful when it's all just part of the process.
the confidence that comes with knowing what could happen and feeling ready to face it is such a powerful thing, and i want people to be able to have that going into their surgery. i want them to be able to trust in their knowledge of what could happen and feel equipped to handle whatever comes their way. i want them to know that it'll be worth it in the end, even if it's hard for a while. i want them to know that top surgery is a wonderful thing and is worth doing, even if it's a rough experience, and that they can have a hard time and still come out the other side thrilled with the outcome. i want them to be able to look that fear in the face and say "yeah, maybe it'll suck for a few weeks, but then i'll be so much happier for the entire rest of my life, so fuck it, let's do it."
if i've learned anything over the past week, it's that top surgery is scary but it's also so worth it. if it would make your life better, go for it. i promise, the fear will be worth it. and honestly? a lot of the scary shit isn't nearly as scary once you've experienced it and learned how to work with it.
#idk like. if your experience wasnt like mine go ahead and make your own post detailing how things went for you!#but maybe don't come onto my post and talk about your experiences as if they somehow contradict mine#don't act like i'm giving the Bad Scary Info and you have the Nice Reassuring Info that can make it all better#all of the information is important. all of it#and all of it - the really smooth recoveries and the really rough recoveries and everything in between - are just part of the process#it just. feels Bad#i'm gonna leave this mostly untagged for now i just wanted to put it out there#top surgery adventures
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Saw a post about gacha addiction earlier and I didn't want to Get Into It with the OP because I fundamentally don't disagree with them but it left me raging internally at the counterproductive approach.
Listen. Gacha addiction is real. It's fucked, the companies that pioneered the softcore gambling-lootbox-gacha model straight up bragged about how effective it was. If you have never spent money on gacha, ideally you really shouldn't start, because the only way to determine whether or not you'll get addicted to any specific thing is to fuck around and find out even if you know for a fact that in general you do or do not have an addictive personality. The most dangerous gamble to take is the first. If you DO decide to spend money anyway, you should have a comprehensive strategy in place to keep it from slowly consuming your entire budget. Also, even if you don't spend real money it can still become a problem, because it can also end up consuming all of your time - any game can do this, any hobby in general can become toxic in fact, but gacha games in particular have the FOMO factor of "I have to keep grinding so I can save enough for my blorbo's next banner". If you play gacha games - even on a free-to-play basis - you should be aware that you are taking a risk and you should be willing to admit to yourself if it's become a problem. If you find your gacha budget creeping upward despite your income not doing the same, or you find yourself regularly trying to grind out pull currency even when it's overall not fun anymore, you should take a hiatus from the game/s, and call a therapist or gambling addiction hotline if that proves to be difficult.
And if you have concerns about other people developing gacha addiction...shaming people or downplaying what they like about the games or characters helps literally no one; if anything it only sends them further into denial for your smug sense of superiority.
Thing is? Gacha games are games. Most successful ones, despite the obvious comparisons, are a lot more than just slot machines to fill out a gallery of blorbos to rotate on your screen instead of in your head. They tend to have genuinely compelling lore and characters and enjoyable gameplay - the gacha is not the game itself; it is a recruitment and power-up system in an actual game. This only becomes more true as the market becomes more competitive - like, FGO shows its age with its slow start; you can really tell it launched at a point where all one needed for success was to tie to an existing big fandom and give you a little new content with your faves, but even then the appeal was the lore and the characters far more than it ever was the summoning system, and it's kept up as time goes on, intensifying both the story and the strategy as it's come into a life of its own. Genshin Impact, at 2 years old, is as "real" of an action RPG as a Kingdom Hearts game, with intense strategy elements involved in team building. Arknights is a tower defense that I'd love to play were it not for my medical phobia because what I know of the setting and lore is some POWERFUL social commentary that is right up my alley.
I could list more examples, but it's not really the point. The point is that gacha games are real games, with real lore, and real characters. These games don't have playerbases composed exclusively of victims of predatory monetization unless you REALLY stretch the definition; in order for a game to be a good gacha game, first it does need to be a good game. It's easy to say "oh, they don't really care about the story or characters or gameplay, it's just an elaborate ad for the slot machine, it's just a cash grab" - but...even accepting that as true (which is debatable), so what? What's the difference between that and the latest big studio movie? The latest Netflix original series? The latest "conventional" "one-and-done" AAA game? Do you think the CEOs greenlit those out of nothing but the love of art and storytelling?
People are going to get attached to these stories and characters, and mocking them over it isn't ~taking a brave stand against predatory marketing strategies~, it's not ~waking people up to the fact that they've been duped~, it's just being a fucking asshole.
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An earnest call for your support: Help me determine if there is a gas leak in my house.
for a long time now, I have been reading and hearing about This Guy on the news, and have been reading all the articles and stories about him:
Above: Sam, tenting his weird-ass fucked up fingers like a real Wall Street Guy might do in a movie he saw
Yep, you already know this guy, his name is Sam, I'll be referring to him as Sam, as that is his first name, and not by his initials, which is what I imagine a pod person might do in an attempt to emulate human behaviour. Whatever. You already know him and what he did, I won't waste your time. Listen. Pay attention. This is not a post about this guy or what he did. That shit is boring as fuck. This is a post about a potential gas leak in my house. We'll get to that in just a bit. Remember.
I've read all the articles and all the op-eds and everything. About Sam. Let us explore the entire spectrum of media coverage of Sam and Sam's Big Ass Problem, starting from the bottom, with the worm-food-tier jackasses: What do people like Jim Cramer and Shark Tank Guy have to say about him?
Above: CNN's "Mad Money" Jim Cramer also doing a weird hand gesture while he tells your alcoholic cable-news-addicted uncle to put his money in some dumbass shit
Above: I think this is the Shark Tank guy? I don't remember his name. Could have sworn his suit had dollar signs and not question marks (?)
I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam is a boy genius who is super duper smart and can move objects with his massive brain due to knowing about Tech, FinDom FinTech, and computer money, specifically Money Coding. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court".
Moving on from the worm-food-tier to the mediocre-tier: The totally nameless basic bitch journalists at the New York Times or Bloomberg. What do these assholes have to say?
Above: Jim Fuckface, associate financial correspondent for Bloomberg. Jim enjoys winding down on a Friday afternoon by sipping a Bud Lite Lime and wearing his baseball cap backwards, which bears the logo of his local professional sports team.
Above: Kate Fuckface, columnist at the New York Times. Kate enjoys spending her time chatting and interacting with her friends on Social Media Platforms like Facebook and Instagram, as well as purchasing items on Etsy
I'll summarize their conclusions: "Displaying the characteristic awkwardness of incredible technical and financial genius, it was clear to me during our interview that Sam's depth of knowledge truly knew no bounds. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."
Finally moving on to the people that might actually have a clue about what they're talking about. Sam Levine and Michael Lewis:
Above: Matt Levine, author of a comedy email newsletter named Money Stuff that is 95% financial information by weight and somehow still usually funny as fuck.
Above: Michael Lewis, author of a bunch of really good books you haven't read that were made into pretty decent movies you have seen: Moneyball and The Big Short.
I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam sure is a smart kid and seems to know a whole lot about economics and this digital currency, and I mean a whole lot, and even more about business, accounting, and finance. Bright kid! Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."
A pretty goddamn clear consensus across the board on both counts.
I listened to the interviews the entire spectrum of people listed above conducted with him -- the ones during which they unanimously concluded how smart he is. I listened to many hours of ad-hoc, unscripted Twitter Space calls he participated in, where he fielded questions about his fraud and his business with complete strangers. I listened to them very carefully. And here is my problem! I came to a different conclusion!
Sam is a fucking moron. I am not talking about solely his intellect, or solely his decision-making abilities, or any specific criteria. I am talking about all of them.
There are two possibilities:
(A) I am correct and, somehow, literally everyone else is incorrect, most of whom know vastly more about these topics than I do
(B) There is a fucking gas leak in my house and I have completely lost all cognitive abilities, suddenly and unwittingly, and exist in a cartoon reality inside my skull that would allow me to reach such a wildly different conclusion from the same evidence.
The likelihood of (A) being correct is very nearly 0%. I mean, come on. I am not fucking around when I tell you how troubling this is for me. I wrote earlier that this isn't a post about Sam or his bullshit. This is a post asking for your help in determining whether I have lost my god damn marbles.
I'll give Sam one thing -- he has some nominal ability to bullshit. If he's writing a Tweet, or making a short statement, he can finesse his words that, on some level, mask how much of a dimwit he is. He absolutely can't do that through about six hours of unscripted interviews. Listen to that shit. Listen.
I am going to go check all the joints in the gas lines in my house as well as the ports on my stove and heater. I'll come back and write a follow-up post on outlining exactly why I think homeboy is an idiot. While I do that, please, go listen to the interviews and tell me what you think.
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Bad Takes in the Welsh tag vol. II- this reblog on a post about the number of Welsh speakers. (I have cropped out the username of OP and as ever, I only focus on the sentiment, not the person. If you know OP's url kindly do not send them anon hate etc.).
So I saw this take a few days ago in a reblog on a post in the Welsh tag and wanted to address this sentiment as well, since it does the opposite of that other bad take that I saw and made a post about the other day. To be clear, I don't disagree entirely with OP, but there's an element of wishful thinking that I sometimes see when it comes to Welsh / other minoritised languages which can end up doing more harm than good.
This screenshot was also discussed in the LGBTQIA+ Welsh Discord I run and the broad consensus from those of us in there who live in Wales is that OP is painting a very inaccurate picture of the status of Welsh, particularly of Welsh in North Wales. It is frustrating when you have people who value Welsh, but don't value Welsh enough to bother with accuracy in their promotion of the language. This post is intended as a gentle reminder that we can fight for the Welsh language without misrepresenting the situation on the ground so to speak.
The post itself has a 'fuck yeah, Welsh!' attitude which I personally love. But sadly this particular post is riddled with misinformation. First of all, we have "Welsh law is that all signs must have We[l]sh text on them but there is nothing in the law that says signs must also have English on them". Now the wording is kinda vague here- but I'm going out on a limb and saying that the OP is likely referencing The Welsh Language Standards Guidelines (which have been updated several times over the years). The guidance has a number of Standards relating to signs in the Welsh language, such as Standard 32, Standards 47-52, Standard 66 and Standards 111-113. The section of Interpreting the Standards also contains relevant text, such as in Part 3- Interpreting the Standards article 15:
Plain text: "For the purposes of the standards a requirement to publish, provide or display any written material in Welsh does not mean that material should be published, provided or, displayed in Welsh only, nor does it mean that the material should be produced in Welsh first (unless that is specifically stated in the standard)"
Of the Standards listed above, Standards 47-52 are specifically designated as Standards relating to signs and notices displayed or published by a body. Which state things like "... if the same text is displayed in Welsh and in English, you must not treat the Welsh language text less favourably than the English language text" - Standard 47 and "You must ensure that the Welsh language text on signs and notices is accurate in terms of meaning and expression" - Standard 49.
Anyway, back to the point. OP is incorrect in stating that there is a loophole by which the Welsh Law forgot to specify that the signs had to have English as well as Welsh and that public bodies can get away with monolingual Welsh signs. This just isn't true. Important to note is that the law is intended for public bodies- so big companies, road signage makers etc. This guidance isn't for random farms in North Wales which have signs that say "wyau <-" pointing up the lane with no English translation.
Now, the next sentence is a little loaded, well-meant, but a little loaded nonetheless. "The Welsh nationalist dominated rural authorities in the North"- it's loadedness comes down to its vagueness I think. While it isn't wrong per se that Welsh Nationalist parties like Plaid Cymru do well in the North West, it is a little skewed to ascribe Welsh speaking status to whichever party is doing the best in a given area. It isn't that clear cut, unfortunately. To get into this issue, we have to talk maps.
So those Welsh speaker maps that have nice gradients and have the West of Wales coloured in dark, gradually getting lighter as you move East? Unfortunately, these maps can be very misleading (especially if, like in the map OP was commenting on, the source of the data was left off). But the long and short of it is- these maps tend to imply that Welsh is exclusively spoken in the NW and that everywhere East of Bangor has had it. But the data presentation is very flawed, since it tends to erase Welsh language gains in places like Cardiff, Swansea and Monmouthshire.
You've all seen maps like this right? NW in the darkest colours and SE in the lightest?
Unfortunately when it comes to these kinds of maps, they can be very misleading from a language revitalisation point of view.
Here's some maps I actually studied at undergrad for this purpose
On the face of it, your eyes zip up to Gwynedd and Môn on the first map and then over to the second and- 'oh no!' you might say, there's been a -2.1 to -4.0 percent decline in Welsh speakers in those areas. And of course, this is something that language revitalisation wants to address. But look at the first map again. Look at, Monmouthshire, Caerphilly, Cardiff and Swansea. Then look at the second map.
Welsh speaking is actually being increased in these areas, between 2001 to 2011.
The misleading nature of a language map like this one is not its borders, its colour or key, but its omission of the sociopolitcal forces at play in language revitalisation. Large population centres like Cardiff, Caerphilly, Newport and Swansea are actively gaining more Welsh speakers. While Gwynedd and Môn are losing some. But Welsh speaking (despite a few wobbles) is on the increase. So where did those Welsh speakers from the North go?
South.
It isn't a hard-and-fast rule, but many rural Welsh speakers (especially those who live in areas with high amounts of holiday homes which drive up rent/cost of staying in villages in North Wales) actually end up moving to more urban areas in the South, meaning that some of the decline of Welsh speaking in North Wales is down to Welsh speakers just, moving to a different part of Wales- which in turn makes those areas see an increase in Welsh being spoken.
Of course, we actually have to address the cause of the exodus of Welsh speakers from rural areas holiday homes raising house prices making them unaffordable for locals and drives them away but the way that our data is represented is not as dire as it looks. Still not great, mind, but not apocalyptic either.
Then there's the other inaccuracies in this post. Small businesses like farm shops, high street businesses and houses can have Welsh-only signage because they are not local authorities and much of the guidance indirectly referenced by OP mostly only applies to local authorities. This is how you have farm shops advertising produce in Welsh only, or shop names in Welsh (such as Siop y Pethe and Broc-Môr in Aberystwyth) or the name of the house my flat is in. Businesses have different regulations for signage inside the shop in different situations. But the guidance indirectly referred to by OP in the screenshot mostly applies to road signage.
Big name brands such as Tesco are definitely not going to have monolingual Welsh stores and it is disinformation to suggest that they do- especially not when they've made gaffes such as "sboncen" to mean squash (the drink). "Sboncen" means squash (the sport), while they should have put "sgwash", meaning the drink.
Or my favourite instance of these "arwyddion gwael", in which instead of offering a free ATM service, this ATM on the Tesco Express in Aberystwyth offered "codiad am ddim" (free erections):
So I dread to think what a fully monolingual poorly translated Welsh Tesco would look like.
I don't disagree with OP on the final part, that we should celebrate Welsh's "punk ass attitude" in surviving despite attempts to eradicate it from existence. But spreading false information is definitely not the way we should be doing that.
Instead, we can celebrate things like the National Eisteddfod coming to places like Wrecsam in 2025, which aren't typically selected due to there being fewer speakers. But what bringing the National Eisteddfod to areas with low-speakers does is reestablish that yes, actually, Welsh deserves to be spoken all over Wales, not just in Y Fro Gymraeg (Welsh concept equivalent of the Gaeltacht in Ireland). It's an active, real reclamation of areas previously lost for Welsh and revitalising them by bringing the language back with the biggest Welsh language event anywhere.
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Never Looked Back
Prologue of There’s Nothing Like This
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader
Warnings: none :)
Word Count: 1.3k
Author’s Note: the rest of the chapters will have more Jamie and more words. Shoutout to @buckychristwrites for letting me word vomit to her and to my wife @andr0medafallen for being a supportive baddie
Flying has never been your favorite thing, and as you begin your descent over London, you’re reminded of the last time you’d flown this far. You’d been seventeen, alone and anxious and on your way to Chelsea, brimming with excitement over finally reaching your dream.
Not even seven months later you were on your way home, ligaments torn and joints aching in a way you’ll never get rid of.
Now, sitting for so long makes your hips cramp and your knees lock and you can feel your ankle swell and pulsate with pain. You know your back would start cramping if you weren’t landing, so you have something small to be thankful for. Really, you’re just lucky that you have a few days to recover before training begins.
It hits you how pathetic it is that you, a professional footballer, need to recover from a plane ride. You try not to let it bother you, try not to wallow in self pity and hatred the way you did when you were 17, laying on your mother’s couch post-op and believing your life was over.
If only you could see yourself now, on your way to join the brand new AFC Richmond women’s team.
The idea of leaving the US was nerve-wracking, but you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play in England again, to try one more time to achieve a dream you’d had since you were a little girl. It was so clear that everyone you talked with truly believed in creating a space for women, to support them and push the sport forward, and that starting a women’s team wasn’t simply a way to keep up with other clubs, to stay relevant.
As the plane lands, you finally allow yourself to feel excited in that same giddy way you did the last time you made this journey. You were finally one step closer to making your dreams come true, and you weren’t going to let your negative thoughts and fears ruin it for you.
The entire ride to Nelson Road, you couldn’t help but let that giddy excitement course through your veins, feeling like you’re a little kid again and on your way to your first day of school. You can’t help but wonder who’ll be in your class, who your teacher will be. The Richmond women’s team has been kept fairly quiet, and you have practically no idea what you’re getting yourself into.
Walking through the doors, your nerves start to build again, and you think your heart is going to beat right through your ribs as you make your way to the front desk. Before you start speaking, you need to take a deep breath or else you’re worried you’ll collapse, and that seems like bad luck considering you’re here to be an athlete.
“Hi, I’m here-“
“I know why you’re here,” the receptionist cuts you off and you’d be upset if she wasn’t beaming at you, “Ms. Welton is waiting for everyone in her office.”
The receptionist shows you the way, gesturing up a grand staircase that gives you plenty of time to freak out some more, your anxiety only growing the closer you get to the owner's office. As you open the door, you wonder if it’s too late to turn and run and catch a flight back to America.
All those feelings disappear when you see one of the other players talking with a gorgeously tall woman, and you can’t help but to squeal despite how unprofessional you know it makes you look.
“Mackie!” You yell out, causing the other woman to turn towards you, a grin blooming on her face when she notices you. Claire McKenzie had been one your best friends since you both debuted for the US team together at twenty years old, bonded by your age and your bench riding skills.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asks as she pulls you into a tight embrace, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.
“I’m here to play some fucking football!” You reply, feeling ten times lighter than you did in the hallway now that you know you have Mackie on your side.
Breaking apart from the hug, you feel everyone’s eyes on you and you’re wishing the floor could just open up and swallow you when the woman who must be Rebecca Welton smiles kindly at you.
“I’m glad to know some of you ladies are already friends,” she says, the room breaking into laughter and the weight lifting off of your chest.
After everyone had arrived, she took the time to introduce herself and the few other non-players in the room, including Keeley Jones, the true mastermind behind the Richmond women’s team. No matter how much this team means to you, to the rest of the team, to Rebecca, it means ten times more to Keeley. This was her idea, her baby, and you can already feel the pride and excitement radiating off of her at the sight of the team gathered before her.
You’re determined to win it all for her.
“This is Coach Kent, and Beard and Nathan Shelley will be your assistant coaches until we can find someone to fill those spots permanently,” Rebecca says with a smile, but you can all feel the tension coursing underneath the surface.
“So no one wanted to coach us?” A voice from the back of the room asks, and it’s like you’ve been drenched in freezing cold water now that somebody’s said it out loud.
“No one has expressed interest… yet,” Rebecca adds, trying to keep up her jovial facade as the players start to mutter to each other. It feels like you’re in gym class again, standing and hoping and praying you get picked for dodgeball but knowing you’ll be last again.
“Oi! I fucking want to coach you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Roy says, sounding angry but you can’t quite place what he’s truly feeling, “and these two want to fucking coach you.” Beard and Nate nod, Roy crossing his arms across his chest as your murmurs die down, placated by his statements.
“With the limited space and limited coaching staff, there will be some days where you share training with the boys, but we’re all one big family here,” Rebecca adds, and you can tell by now that the smile plastered on her face is fake, that she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince you.
As you wrap up in the office and head downstairs to see the dressing room, you can’t help but feel as if the entire world’s against the team, against you. All you know right now is that you’re going to need to work ten times harder than everyone else to prove yourself to the fans, to the media, to the world.
Passing by the men’s dressing room, you briefly lock eyes with someone walking towards the pitch, who smiles as you pass. It’s so quick that your brain isn’t able to process who it is, so you try to forget it and follow the rest of the team to the brand new women’s dressing room.
The players rush into the room as if the floodgates opened, everyone trying to find their kit and their name and their number. As much as you want to play it cool, want to make a good first impression on Rebecca and Keeley and the coaches, you can’t help but grin and run with the other girls, everyone giddy as they see the kits in person.
When you finally find yours, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.
It’s the classic Richmond blue, with your name in bold white above a large number nine.
It’s as if everything you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you: you’re a striker on a team you care about. You know it’s going to be an uphill battle, know you’re going to need to prove yourself over and over and over, but right now, with your kit in your hand, your team laughing and smiling around you, you think you can face it.
Tags: @andr0medafallen @buckychristwrites @benedictscanvas @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @scaramou @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @presidential-facts @yepyeahuhhuh @loveslide @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @rae4725 @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @captainfrisbee @dalebo3 @theloud-yet-quietone @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @rockchickrebel @legobatmans9thab @curlypeter @lostinwonderland314 @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @kno-way-home @nicklet94 @fan-goddess @innocentbi-stander
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt imagine#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction
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𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕. 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 + 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 <𝟑
feat. mikey sano, draken, baji keisuke, chifuyu matsuno, mitsuya takashi x gn!reader - fluff (1.1k+)
nana's note/cw: i just think having your first kiss with draken would be like getting a glimpse of heaven but idk that's just my opinion—cw: plot-based manga spoilers in chifuyu's, mentions of eating in baji's! enjoy my loves hehehe <3
part 2 here!! ^^
credit for the prompts to op with this post! (except for mikey's! i made that one hehe) edit: seems the post got deleted? however prompts still belong to that blog!
MIKEY + "well if you keep doing that, i don't need anymore sweets."
mikey grumbles at the empty fridge cabinet, which he designated to store all his treats. chowing down the final bite of his last taiyaki, mikey turns to you with a pout. "i thought i told emma to get me some more the other day," he says with an adorably angry expression. you giggle at his fuss, stepping forward to wipe a crumb off the corner of his mouth. he looked so cute like this; messy hair, oversized pajamas, and soft pink lips just begging you for attention. mikey lets you touch him as you please, smiling at you playfully as he leans his back against the counter. you rest a palm on his cheek, and he nuzzles himself into your hand. then, you throw all doubt out the window to lean in slowly, and kiss him—a kiss so hesistant, careful and soft, that mikey needs to guide his hand up your neck to push you further onto him. as you indulge yourself in mikey's lips, you decide he tastes like strawberry cream and smile to yourself pleasantly. when you two release for air, mikey whispers against your lips: "well if you keep doing that, i don't need anymore sweets."
DRAKEN + "do that again."
the cushion of your couch sinks under the weight of your boyfriend's body. draken lays on his back, with his head resting on your lap, eyes shutting immediately. he had a long day at the shop, and you were determined to give him a relaxful night ahead. undoing his braid, you ran your fingers through his blonde locks tenderly, earning you a blissful groan from the man below you. his hand slowly reaches back and grips your thigh with a grateful squeeze, before sliding down to rest on your knee. your entire body flushes, you never ceased to react from his touches. continuing your ministration on his head, you carry your wispy touches to his face; running your fingers gently over his forehead, cheeks, nose and lips. draken doesn't make a single noise or move at all—not even when he feels you lean down over him, and your lips hovering above his own. you kiss him, and feel his body’s slight tense of shock, before he melts against you like putty in your arms. despite it being the first time, you two move in perfect unison. you pull back for air, but it's not long before draken grabs you by the sides of your face, and tells you to "do that again."—and how could you say no?
BAJI + "you're the best first kiss i've ever had.. not that i have much to compare to."
"oh man, that smells fucking good!" baji cheers, mixing up the yakisoba noodles in the two bowls for you and him. you hum in agreement, feeling your stomach growl at the thought of devouring it all. "you always make packaged food look so delicious, kei’." you tease, giggling at his half-assed glare. his jutted pout looked so adorable, you couldn't help but hug him from behind and squeeze his torso lightly, much to his (also, half-assed) protests. as your boyfriend continues his preparations, you admire just how handsome he was. the sun's afternoon glow through the open window kissed him gracefully, allowing you to stare at the sharp contours and highlights of his face. he had his hair tied up just the way you liked it, and you felt the strings at your heart pull when he looked down at you. "what's u—?" he starts, but you push up on your feet to meet your lips with his', and—although quick—it was perfect. internally, it felt like you had finally untied the strings that made your heart ache so dearly around him. you couldn't help but feel a little nervous at his shocked expression, before it softens into a lovesick grin. "you're the best first kiss i've ever had.. not that i have much to compare to." he says, chuckling at his words but reconfirming them when he leans down for another peck. and another.
CHIFUYU + "...oh god, can we try that again?"
the doorbell rang, signalling that chifuyu's huge order had finally arrived to his front step: 25 boxes of the gang's 'thousand winters' tees. you, who had nothing else to do this afternoon, offered your help—to which your boyfriend graciously accepted with an estatic grin. for the past hour, the two of you have been carrying in box after box (with well-needed breaks; you guys didn't expect this to be as tiring as it was), until each one was properly stacked atop one another—except for one. as you bent down to carry it off with the rest, chifuyu spun around holding the shirt with a blissful grin at his purchase, only to trip his foot against the side and fall face forward towards you. "c-chifuyu!" you scram to catch his body, until you feel the impact of his lips smush against your's. chifuyu's eyes widen at the situation, before he pushes himself off of you and begins profusely apologizing. "oh my god-shit! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean it!" he spills, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the taste of your lip balm and decides fuck it: "...oh god, can we try that again?" you laugh, and nod, before leaning into give him a coordinated second kiss.
MITSUYA + "we can take things slow."
mitsuya shuts the door to mana and luna's room with a quiet click, "they're fast asleep, love." he whispers to you and you smile with a nod. the two of you then make your way down the steps of his home, being sure to not be so loud. the clock reads 9:38 PM and you begin to set up a random film while mitsuya took care of the snacks and drinks. making his way over to your little set up, mitsuya grins at the fluffy blankets and excessive amounts of pillows you've gathered. with no plans to sleep in his bedroom, you and mitsuya got comfortable against one another—his left arm wrapped around your shoulder with a big bowl of popcorn on your lap, and pressed play. now 40 minutes in, your focus shifts from the characters on-screen to the constant feeling of mitsuya's palms on your hips. you still at every slight movement of his fingers, and your heartbeat pounds in sync with his breathing behind you—it seems mitsuya's focus is not on the movie, either. you crane your head behind you, gasping when you meet his face only mere inches from your own. his eyes flicker to your lips, and you find yourself mirroring his action. he leans in ever so slowly, lips grazing against yours when he mutters, "we can take things slow, okay?" you nod once, barely registering his words when your desires take over and push yourself onto him. mitsuya smiles into the kiss, hands roaming and only spreading more warmth around you and the now-forgotten film.
taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya@gwynsapphire@sscarchiyo@reiners-milkbiddies@smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog (send me an ask or dm to be added!)
reblogs and comments are very appreciated ^^
#mikey x reader#draken x reader#baji x reader#chifuyu x reader#mitsuya x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#mikey sano x reader#mikey sano x reader fluff#mikey x reader fluff#draken x reader fluff#baji x reader fluff#baji keisuke x reader#baji keisuke x reader fluff#chifuyu matsuno x reader fluff#chifuyu matsuno x reader#chifuyu x reader fluff#mitsuya x reader fluff#mitsuya takashi x reader#mitsuya takashi x reader fluff#tokyo revengers x reader fluff#mikey drabble#draken drabble#baji drabble#chifuyu drabble#mitsuya drabble#tokyo revengers drabble#mikey sano drabble#baji keisuke drabble#chifuyu matsuno drabble#mitsuya takashi drabble
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So overall I don't like the OFMD Reddit. I've tried to create a post about why narratively I felt S2 didn't work ignoring the Izzy stuff, one only about the Izzy stuff(since there are very few Izzy-focused fans on there), then another talking about Olu/Jim/(Archie/Zheng) talking about why I was disappointed in it. If it's a negative post, moderators won't approve the post to go live. Which I don't love. But okay, if you want a positive echo chamber to offset Tumblr and Twitter about this season, sure.
I still check it out of curiosity when I stumble across this GEM.
We've had quite a bit of time to debate this. Almost two years, and this was posted 11/15/23. Yes, the OP was very kind (I agree that Ed thought that Stede was cool cause he beat Izzy, and was a new pirate on the scene. Then once he realizes how dumb the crew is the plan springs up into place), and I'm not hating on them specifically. Just that some social media places are just still at this point.
I blame a large section of the fanbase for not EVER reading any Izzy POV meta. Who are now scrambling to go back to rewatch S1 knowing what we know about Izzy now.
If you want to see all the responses, ranging from those I agree with to those that are just wild, let me know, I might put the link in the comments my favorites range from. 'Blackbeard wanted to but Ed didn't' to the usual Izzy is a superhuman being. To 'ALL THIS WAS JUST TO KEEP IZZY ON THE SHIP'?
Do they not see how INTERESTING the dynamic between Ed and Izzy is? That their relationship is giving and pulling at just the right times? Izzy trying to maintain their shield and Ed desperately trying to find a life where he doesn't hate himself? Both of them DON'T REALLY WANT THIS-Ed being openly suicidal to Izzy keeping his head down and working- living day by day- each NOT talking about their issues.
That hiding behind the Blackbeard name is the only way they'll survive? That killing Stede Bonnet could genuinely give Ed the out he craves. Izzy could then Captain a ship full of a crew that (theoretically) already fears and respects him?
[Not that Izzy would be good at it, or even want to be away from Ed, but you get my point. This was a *change in their lives* that is VERY tempting to two men who have been in survival mode for YEARS-
Also, it's very obvious Jenkins didn't plan Izzy's character out, so Izzy wanting to captain to me can just be written off as Jenkins not knowing the character yet, since he NEVER PAYS THE SCENE -WHERE IZZY IS FLATTERED AT POTENTIALLY BEING GIVEN TITLE CAPTIN-OFF (cough cough Izzy could have been the captain/first mate S2ep8)...moving on]
If Lucius didn't stumble in, Ed would have killed Stede here. He was aiming for a fatal spot in his neck and actively swinging down, I couldn't find a gif and had to take a photo on my phone, but you get my point.
Ed then realizes that not only was he willing to kill a guy who, overall, had been very kind to him, but then gets the Kraken as a reminder that he HAS killed. That he's spent his entire life killing to put himself into a better spot. Slowly rising up the ranks, and it's never been enough to keep him happy. Be it his dad, or fuck, even killing this rich dude and stealing his identity.
~BUT NO~
Izzy is SO EVIL guys, Ed doesn't want to kill Stede! He just has to pretend to be violent in front of Izzy so Izzy doesn't mutiny or leave him!! Doesn't that TOTALLY make sense? Ed's struggling since he never wanted to kill Stede, and he's struggling with the 'order' Izzy gave him!!
[Ignoring how Ed wanted to help him retire in the first place, how Izzy nudges Ed to follow the fisherman thing, and how Ed wanted Izzy to *stay* in the first place.]
The reddit is FILLED with takes like this, btw. Sorry if it seems like straw-manning, but I can find the posts if you need them.
#ofmd#izzy hands#stede bonnet#edward teach#ofmd critical#Maybe?#ofmd meta#ofmd analysis#our flag means death
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@thegirlwhowatchedtv
Alright, I do not want to derail OPs original post, so I will make my own!
Disclaimer: If anyone tries to argue that something Aziraphale does "isn't that bad" or tries to blame Crowley for it, you will be blocked. I'm an abuse survivor and that kind of denial is not just disrespectful but also triggering to me personally, and I do not want it anywhere near me; I hope you can respect that.
Discussions and arguments are fine, abuse denial is not.
Disclaimer 2: I don't hate Aziraphale, none of this is hate, I understand he is acting based on his own trauma. However, none of that excuses his behaviour, and I will delete any and all responses that say something along the lines of 'his trauma means he gets a free pass to treat Crowley like shit'.
--
With that out of the way, let's get into it, shall we?
Yes, you’re right that he’s not fully listening to Crowley
This is the first point that is also the most important one. If we do not properly look at this, every other interpretation of what comes after will be (partly) incorrect. I have already written several metas about this, and I will do it again.
Aziraphale isn't not just "not fully listening", he is not listening period. He has not been listening to Crowley the entire season, and he sure as fuck doesn't start now.
but a large part of it is that he doesn’t even understand what Crowley is saying to him or why he’s saying it.
The fault lies by Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone.
"It's probably best if I start off doing all the talking and you do all the listening."
Crowley is telling him hey, I have something very important to say, and I really want you to just listen to me for a moment. Every single time Aziraphale wanted to tell him something, Crowley listened. All he is asking for is the same. But Aziraphale does not care about what Crowley wants to say and never has. From the second he enters the shop, he is not listening or giving a single fuck about what Crowley wants.
Aziraphale wants everything to be about himself; he is the most important being ever so Crowley needs to "hold his thought" aka shut the fuck up. Following so far?
From his perspective, he comes to Crowley with this huge offer that will solve all their problems, Crowley shuts it down, and then abruptly changes the subject.
Yes, that is indeed his perspective, and his perspective is 'valid'. However, it is so far removed from reality it borders on delusional and thus CANNOT be considered as an 'alternative' to what is actually happening here. Aziraphale thinking this is a problem, not an excuse.
Aziraphale looks baffled and isn’t fully listening in this scene because he doesn’t understand what any of this has to do with the Metatron’s offer.
Again, Aziraphale not listening is a problem, Crowley does not need to do anything different because the issue here is Aziraphale not listening. Aziraphale has NEVER listened.
The Metatron's offer, yes. The one he presented to Crowley not as an offer but as a decision he made for the both of them without asking Crowley if that's what he wants. He shows up and tells Crowley "I have decided that you will lose everything about yourself and go back to the place that cast you out because I want to try and change a system that cannot be changed. Your thoughts on this don't matter because this is what I want and I have decided you also want what I want."
Healthy much, huh? Fucking disrespectful is what it is, and Crowley would have had every right to punch him for this alone.
He’s anxious to get back to the subject of heaven because from his perspective, Crowley is ignoring what he said and refusing to engage in a discussion about it.
Aziraphale is a gigantic hypocrite and again, yes, this is his perspective, but it is NOT based on reality or in the least bit proportional to what is going on. It is NOT an excuse for any of his behaviour, it doesn't matter if that's how he sees things because the way he handles it is horrible and hurtful.
When Crowley puts his sunglasses back on and walks away, he tries to follow him and practically begs him to come with him, because at that point he, too, is panicked and desperate, and thinks that Crowley is giving up and rejecting him.
Aziraphale is not begging. Crowley was begging. Aziraphale is doing what he always does - he is trying to manipulate him. I'm tired of people not seeing that, so I will pull out a fucking checklist.
First point: He is making decisions for Crowley without allowing him freedom of thought or speech. Quite obvious, I believe.
"To heaven! Work with me."
Aziraphale is trying to use Crowley's attachment to him to make him forego his own boundaries and do what he wants instead. This is something he has been doing for centuries.
"We can be together!"
Here he is repeating what Crowley actively said he wants - he wants them to be together. Aziraphale is "offering" that without understanding the difference between their expressions of it. Another attempt at emotionally manipulating Crowley by pretending that he and Crowley want the same thing and that Crowley is being unreasonable.
"Angels, doing good!"
Same thing, trying to bait him with something that Aziraphale thinks of as the ultimate reward for Crowley, ignoring that a) Crowley does not want it and b) this is the climax of millennia of Aziraphale telling him he does not love him as a demon. So it obviously does not fucking work.
"I need you!"
Ahhh, classic guilt tripping tactic. Aziraphale is trying to make Crowley feel bad and guilty for not wanting to follow him to heaven, actively pushing the buttons he knows exist because he put them there. 'Rescuing me makes him so happy.' Aziraphale knows that and he is using that knowledge to get Crowley to ignore his boundaries and thoughts to come and 'rescue' him instead.
By now, Crowley is looking away and not responding to any of his manipulation tactics.
"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."
I can't even begin to describe how horrible that sentence is. Not only is he completely ignoring Crowley's history of pain and trauma (that he never cared about and often doing the opposite by implying he deserved it), he is telling him that he is stupid and neglecting all the rightful concerns Crowley has had over the centuries.
His intention is to get Crowley to submit to him by making him feel as if he is incapable of making decisions for himself in this regard so that Aziraphale can make them for him instead.
If you can read this and not be physically and emotionally repulsed by it then I honestly don't know.
Crowley, who stopped when Aziraphale called and hates himself for it, finally responds.
"I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."
I'm my own person who understands this situation and can make decisions for myself.
It's the truth. Aziraphale is spinning lies, and he is trying to cut through them with the truth, but Aziraphale doesn't care.
"Well, then there's nothing more to say."
Besides wanting to have the last word, Aziraphale once again does what he did in episode one: my way or the highway. I will leave you or force you to leave me if you don't do what I say.
Just that this time it does not work because Crowley knows he will lose him no matter what.
They both also stubbornly refuse to understand that the other person would never in a million years go with them.
Crowley KNOWS that Aziraphale does not want to run away. He wants to keep Aziraphale safe, and in his mind, the only way of doing that is to get as far away from the danger as possible.
And I want you to actually look at Crowley's speeches.
EVERY SINGLE TIME he ASKS. He ASKS Aziraphale to run away with him, he says please come with me, he says I want this, do you want it to? He says I love you, I love us, I want to keep us safe, will you come with me?
When Aziraphale says no, he respects that. He doesn't try to manipulate Aziraphale the way Aziraphale is manipulating him - who also NEVER FUCKING ASKS HIM. He just assumes he knows what Crowley wants and decides for the two of them.
So why would he leave now that he’s being presented with an opportunity to fix things in heaven and protect the earth? Of course he wouldn’t.
He wouldn't. And that's the point. The only choice for Aziraphale is to go to heaven, and the only choice for Crowley is not to go.
There is NO version of this where they do not separate over this. Any version in which Crowley tries to follow him ends with Crowley dead and wiped from existence. This is the only way this argument could have gone because Aziraphale is currently incapable of making rational decisions.
but Aziraphale has no idea that’s why that happened to Gabriel because Crowley didn’t tell him
Even if he had Aziraphale would not have listened. Aziraphale has treated Crowley like fucking GARBAGE for centuries, never shown compassion, never offered a safe space to talk about all the horrible things that have happened to him. The problem is not Crowley not telling him, the problem is Aziraphale being so unreceptive and full of himself that Crowley COULDN'T tell him.
They’re both well-intentioned and terrified of losing each other, and as a result, they both handle this argument badly and lose each other anyway.
Handle this badly - there is no other option. Crowley is handling this as well as he can but Aziraphale is stuck where he is and needs to choose to break out of it. There is no version where this works out well. I am not misinterpreting Aziraphale, I am simply not excusing or ignoring all his unhealthy and maladaptive coping mechanisms and manipulation attempts like so many people seem bound to do.
I am so fucking tired of trying to excuse Aziraphale's actions as if this hasn't been his behaviour since Eden. Six bloody thousand years and he has not learned a single thing and still treats Crowley like shit.
Crowley chooses himself over Aziraphale for the very first time and I am so, so proud of him for that. I know how hard it is, and he is in so much pain because he loves Aziraphale, he doesn't want to lose him, but he loves himself more.
#alex talks good omens#good omens#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#good omens season 2#go2#aziracrow#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable divorce#good omens meta
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btw if you get a begging message from this person, block and report. they are a (very clumsy) scammer targeting people who have helped to fundraise for ahmed and his family. according to people actually active in the area they claim to be from, all of their local info is wrong and they only speak google-translate arabic lol. truly despicable.
it looks like GFM has already shut down their campaign and refunded the 2 entire donations they managed to wheedle out of people but keep an eye out for this shit and never feel bad about looking for red flags when a complete stranger asks you for $$$$
this is an instructive case bc they did almost everything wrong:
brand new blog, every post has 1 like (by op)
only other interactions are from aggregator / bot accounts
'some replies have been hidden or removed' on their begging post
I actually couldn't find their photos on a reverse image search, but it's pretty easy to fool tineye with image editing so that's not a guarantee that they aren't stolen. regardless...
...same selfie used repeatedly on their blog and in DMs (and they sent it to me unprompted, which is a super weird thing to do unless you already know you sound shady as fuck)
keeps repeating that they're 'ahmed's friend' but never tags him, and he has never intereacted with their posts or mentioned them
asked me to message them first so their replies couldn't be published <= insanely dumb, why would someone genuinely fundraising for their dying family want to keep it a secret
anyway it's all very transparent and evil but going back through their notes there were enough well meaning people trying to signal boost their shit that this needs to be spelled out. there are people in the world who have no qualms about impersonating a victim of genocide to steal your money. you are always allowed to ask questions. you are always allowed to subject this shit to scrutiny.
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