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anxiouspotatorants · 26 days

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Actually you know what I need to rant about this: while literati is technically a good girl x bad boy dynamic it is written so incredibly well and avoids so many pitfalls and stereotypes that it makes a good girl x bad boy hater like myself (I’m only half joking — I don’t think any trope is inherently good or bad but I tend to dislike most pairings with this dynamic) fall head over heels for their story and relationship.

So much of what makes the two of them work is the contrast between how others perceive them and how they truly are. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people who understand who Rory is as a person (Lorelai, Lane, Paris, Richard and Emily to a certain degree for starters), but she's constantly met with the expectation that she just does good and is supposed to make everyone proud 24/7. Stars Hollow as a group especially are big on this, as seen f. ex. through how Taylor takes Rory's one comment about an inappropriate DVD and twists the whole thing into a censorship crusade and makes Rory its poster-child even though she wants nothing to do with it and tells him so repeatedly. But instead of hearing Rory disagree with him (like he would Lorelai and Luke) he assumes that she actually agrees with him - and why shouldn't she when she's the perfect sunshine paragon of good who would never disagree with her elders? Also her grandparents treat her as incredibly fragile and childlike, like she must be too innocent to ever do anything wrong and so whenever she does something it has to be somebody else's fault (usually Lorelai, but occasionally Jess or whoever else was present). Time and time again Rory is treated like something innocent and naive and weak — but not by Jess. He sees her as a person.

And it obviously goes the other way too. Jess is treated like shit by pretty much everyone else. Either people hate him unprovoked or very much provoked (he did do a lot of pranks in his first few weeks and while I'm a Dean-hater I'm not blind to how much Jess picked fights with him), or they’ve simply given up on him. He tells Rory himself that every authority figure he had back in New York gave up on him too, from teachers to principals to his very own mother. But Rory doesn’t treat him like a lost cause, she treats him like the smart, brilliant and asshole-ish teen that he is. By having faith in him she also often holds him more accountable than others. Where f. ex. Lorelai or the other adults just roll their eyes, Rory physically drags Jess into doing his shifts at the diner. While others write him off, Rory chews Jess’ ear out for not helping Luke more and for willfully making enemies out of the Stars Hollow adults.

They don't put each other on pedestals or below each other. Jess doesn’t try to make a sinner out of Rory and she doesn’t try to make a saint out of him. There’s genuine respect between them. They expect each other to have integrity and treat others with kindness and honesty, and the rest is good old chemistry and common interests.

I particularly love how in so many of their scenes (especially pre-relationship) when they spend time alone they just get to be these goofy nerdy kids. They argue about controversial authors and dig through records shops and eat hot dogs and make fun of each other and try to make each other laugh. It’s not just sexual chemistry as it too often is in a dynamic like this (and often uncomfortably sexual when writing teenagers - looking at you Gossip Girl), and not just well written intellectual chemistry — they have platonic chemistry too. A hell of a lot of it actually.

While I don’t think ASP wrote them through a purely deconstructionist lens on the good girl x bad boy dynamic (if she did plan on writing the dynamic at all), there is something to be said about how where many around them treat them like stereotypes they treat each other like people. To so many people, Rory is a perfect small town princess, a little miss sunshine with booksmarts for days but too delicate and sweet for anything with grit and weight. To a lot of the same people and many more Jess is a pathetic brutish and maniacal lost cause, hell personified in a chainsmoking leather-wearing teenager. But to each other they are actual human beings. Kind and mean and flirtatious and scared and reckless and smart. Rory really thinks that with the right motivation and mindset Jess can be the kind who does (and at the end wrote) incredible things. Jess really believes that with a little more practice and support to step out of her comfort zone she can be the amazing journalist she wishes to be.

They don’t have this stupid «we’re so bad for each other but we can’t stay away» thing that too many trope users rely on and don’t even justify in the plot. Everyone else might think they’re not fit for each other, but they knew they were each other’s person from the very first day.

#where a lot of good girl x bad boy dynamics are about opposites attracting #what draws Rory and Jess towards each other is how much they resonate with each other #the books the weight of expectations and assumptions the passion for more in life #they don't look at each other and see a sexy alien world they look at each other and see themselves #me rant because me unnecessarily passionate about this #again I don't inherently hate the good girl x bad boy dynamic #there's just so many examples of doing it badly out there #like I don't even need the dynamic to be morally good I just need it to be justified in the narrative #and to not just rely on the same old “it's so bad but it feels so good” and relying on stereotypes over actual character writing #Rory and Jess is one of the ways this dynamic is actually done right and it's because ASP doesn't dumb them down #or take the dynamic for granted just because it's popular and bound to have an audience #literati #gilmore girls #rory gilmore #jess mariano #rory x jess #gilmore girls meta #my meta #also extra because I can't contain myself

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alexandriaellisart · 7 months

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mother's daughter

#raven #teen titans #arella #raven and arella #i will complain until my dying day #i want more of raven and her mom #they're lorelai and rory u can't change my mind

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panharmonium · 9 months

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Man, these past few days...so many thoughts. About my life then, my life now. What I missed. Thoughts about what I'll never have. And what I want to have.

#gilmore girls #this episode is another one where it's like #lorelai had this huge horrible thing happen #and instead of making it about her she turns the whole situation into an opportunity to do something great for rory #she takes rory to the college of her dreams and doesn't give away even the slightest hint of wistfulness #when it triggers all these thoughts about what she missed and what she gave up to be rory's mom #rory comes out of a college classroom so excited about 'college is gonna be amazing; i can't wait; i love college; i love harvard!#and lorelai just makes space for rory to be giddy #and tells her how amazing she is and how she blew everyone in the classroom away #without ever once letting on that she has painful emotions about her own missed opportunities #she makes this whole trip into an opportunity for rory to celebrate and revel in her upcoming future #even when lorelai's own intended future has just collapsed!#anyway i'm learning to make gg gifs myself so i don't have to put my bookends thoughts on other people's sets #but this one really is the most bookends vibes #vague bookends thoughts #*

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 9 months

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hi, the way this blog is formatted and the menu is written is so creative and fitting! i had a great time looking through it

may i request some fem reader w rocky? maybe him playing the violin or reciting poems in a public space to himself and reader is the only one to react (positively) so he immediately is struck in awe. please and thank you :)

Good evening, Anon!! First off, thank you very much for the compliment. Two things you should know, however...

This ended up over three thousand words long somehow. (For the record, it was gonna be a scenario.)

It's the cheesiest meet-cute I've ever written, so I advise you all to brace yourselves, folks-

That being said, enjoy!! <3

When you heard it, everything else quieted.

The thunder of cars bolting down a busy road, metal armor bobbing upon four wheels as they broke past and left smaugful clamor clashing against the monstrum business blocks, softened to but a distant skitter of shiny black bugs ambling self-importantly about. The cacophony of pedestrians, indiscernible faces in square suits and tasteful pastels spewing bits of language into one converging mess, each voice independent yet competing for dominance until they clawed at your eardrums and suffocated your thoughts now felt no graver than the meek rustle of forest foliage when coddled by the summer breeze; a humming chorus to a beautiful solist’s serenade, and when a bycicle trilled inches past normally skittish, city-dweller you it didn’t even occur to step aside as you were far too absorbed in the one delightful sound that made the greys of asphalt’s reign seem greyer and dulled even the most striking women’s daywear to sun-worn cleaning rags in comparison.

It was a melody the color of blue, matching his eyes.

You hadn’t a chance to admire them for long when you spotted him in the crowd. They drifted closed for long stretches of time as their owner’s features suggested a deep, gentle focus on the music, his whole being smoothing into the instrument. There was something bewitching about the violin, you found; seemed even its players could seldom resist its particular pull, fingers dancing across the strings as if possessed by magic. The rosined bow dipped to and fro in a hypnotic sequence that pulsed like the rise and ebb of the tides; sometimes the pace changed, slowed to but a meandering, peaceful ponderance before it flew from the threads of catgut like nimble sparks of lightning, with the ease and comfort of at least a thousand hours of practice.

Must’ve been a classical piece, if not improv; but for that far too complex. Vivaldi? Mozart? You hadn’t heard it before, so you couldn’t confirm, however it proved the enchanting stranger to be both talented and educated. He looked up from his divine craft to initiate eye contact with passersby and, yes, he had the bluest eyes indeed, seated under emphatic brows, and he gave a hopeful smile of such integrity to those undeserving strangers who walked past in indifference as if he’d been an smaug-borne ghost, a trick of the light invisible to all but yourself and when he turned in resignation and his gaze caught upon you, playing still, your breath hitched in your throat.

How long had you been gawking there, frozen on the sidewalk like a dimwit? Oh, no. He must have thought you such a creeper; a notion which you had to rectify, and rectify it quick. Puff your chest out, march up, tell him you liked his playing and leave a dime; you took off at once with this very plan in mind.

In doing so, you forgot you had stood on opposing sides of the road.

Heels clicked across hot concrete in a headlong hurry. You realized that the cars were still coming midway through when his eyes widened in horror and a spontaneous screech of tires replaced that joyous melody. You stumbled back, blinded by car polish and a pair of glaring headlights you profusely apologized to before skittering away from a second car in the right lane when it came to an angry halt likewise. Loud honks scolded you along your path whilst you yelled back sheepish sorries.

Well, talk about making an entrance.

As you reached the paved edge, a hand manifested to help you up on it.

“Are you alright, miss?”

And blue eyes. You felt yourself sink further into the road with the transient wish those cars had hit you after all, nonetheless took the offer and tottered along with the stranger’s help. He held bow and violin in his other hand, by the neck, and you narrowly avoided stepping on their rickety case with a meager amount of coins and a crumpled up bill inside.

Ah, right. He’d been busking, after all.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he reiterated, scanning you, and you realized you’d missed the previous question. “It’s hardly safe to cross this thoroughfare without looking both ways first, you know. You ought to try that next time.”

“I know, I know– I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

You weren’t. Not when this handsome vagabond with the most radiant blue oculars you’d ever seen and enough of a musical gift to put you in a trance kept observing you from such proximity whilst implicitly chiding you for being a tunnel-visioned idiot.

“Well, great news, then!” he grinned. Oh. That’s a lot of teeth, you noted with slightly raising eyebrows. “I doubt I’d have been able to sleep tonight had you met an undue fate under the stampede of these motorized beasts all for just trying to reach me.”

An odd penchant for metaphors, too. When you didn’t respond right away, he withdrew his gesturing hand in contemplation.

“You… were careening specifically my way, yes?”

“Yes!”

You snapped out of your appreciation for his endearingly boyish timbre and thereby commenced a frantic battle with your purse as you attempted to pry something from it.

“Right, I was heading this way– just give me a moment–”

He watched in intrigue as you counted something he couldn’t see under your breath, then produced the intended amount of what he identified to be cash and reached to hand it over to him, near breathless.

“I really loved your playing.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye yet hardly missed his astonishment when he conceived the sum.

“Miss, that’s ten dollars.”

“Yes,” you affirmed curtly. “What of it?”

“I can’t accept that.”

Hearing which, you did finally face him with a frown.

“You’re a very kind soul,” he asserted in a hurry, smile never faltering, “and I’m thoroughly humbled by your contribution, but I cannot rob a lady of her hard earned pay in good conscience for that frivolous noise–”

“It was beautiful noise,” you interjected with knitted brows, “I really did enjoy it, and you deserve much better audience than the pedestrians of some drab street corner who’ll never bother to pay your music the attention it deserves.”

You pointed curtly toward the flow of people. Some in turn spared you a glance, but then you blended into their scenery again like another pair of shop mannequins.

“So take it from a lady,” you enunciated, all but shoving the money in his chest, “and I sincerely hope you end up in a concert hall someday.”

You exhaled and waited. He stared at your extended hand, then you, then at your hand and back again and gorgeous as you found those gleaming sapphires you couldn’t for the life of you tell what he was thinking. Your arm muscles trembled, and you contemplated whether sparing yourself from the awkwardness of further playing statue might be worth giving up anyway.

Finally, he seized your wrist with both hands. He didn’t seem to notice your startlement as he was busy beaming at you bright enough to put celestial bodies to shame.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…”

God forsake it, that smile alone was turning your heart into a fluffy, overripe dandelion inside your chest. If he kept up, you feared he might just blow it apart.

But you managed to tell.

“Well, miss…” he began, implementing your surname, and you would’ve bolted on pure instinct had you not taken root at your spot, “your generous praise is, by far and large, the most invaluable gift I could’ve received on this brilliant morning.”

You took a deep inhale, acutely aware of his touch tingling across your skin even though he meant nothing by it… you supposed.

“You have certainly made a lowly troubadour’s day with your gracious approbation,” he patted your knuckles, at the same time gently shoving your offer away. “You see, I could tell from the moment our gazes locked across the street that I would enjoy the pleasure of meeting someone positively extraordinary… right after she ambled through the active traffic. Call it a concise connection of kindred souls, if you will. You, miss, have proved yourself a true appreciator of the arts.”

When those blue eyes were holding yours hostage so intently, you almost did believe he could see into your very soul. You tried to brave it, however.

“Thank y–”

“Which is why this won’t be needed.”

You held the rejected money against your chest, where he had guided it.

“You’ll be better off forfeiting it to charity,” he suggested, “if aiding the honest predicaments of your fellow citizens in need is a cause dear to your heart. Like orphans! Those poor, unmothered things, always caught in the throes of some quintessential lack or other; surely they could put your benevolent funds to good use… that is, in case you are looking to make a charity. If you’re not interested in, erm, providing for the orphans, that’s still quite fine. You just seem to me the sort to care for children. But that doesn’t make it your obligation, of course, to feed the orphans… no one is about to force that duty upon you… in equally sound conscience I suppose you could just as well keep the money…”

He proceeded along his mildly morally concerned tangent, but any of it beyond the lip movements you ceased to process. Some convoluted cliché about personal indulgence over supporting the waifs of the world, you reckoned. In terms of lifting your spirits it achieved a ludicrous heap of nothing, and amidst your silent marinating in this strange and unexpected failure of your strange and unexpected encounter, you continued to clutch the bills to yourself.

You didn’t figure that may have looked like dismay on his end until he trailed off, fidgeting vaguely as he probed your expression. The warmth of his hands on yours still lingered.

“My attempt at a point is,” he resumed at a slower pace, “you’re awful generous, but to tell you the truth, I’m quite comfortably off without the help. I am employed, after all.”

“You are?”

Rude as it sounded to gape the question so, you hadn’t considered that possibility. He was… well, not badly dressed, but his clothes appeared worn and a tad oversized on his comically skinny limbs, granting him a ragamuffin sort of appearance.

Though you still found it quite charming.

“Sure am!” he grinned in earnest, and you’d soon come to accept that his face simply looked that way when he did. “This is only some nifty supplemental income for a craft I spend day and night honing anyway. Really, I play out here to preserve my associates’ peace of mind more than anything. The other day they got so peeved with all the melodic caterwauling my boss had to fetch a broomstick and chase me out into the great wide open after failing to quiet me down.”

A chuckle escaped you at the joke, and it’s like his eyes gleamed brighter.

“What can I say,” he admitted with a theatrical shrug, “a musician’s ichor pulses to the ever-flowing rhythm of higher realms beckoning. That can hardly be helped. When my eager heart doesn’t sing Apollo’s odes from the strings, it reaches for the lyre, however… but they don’t deal in stanzas and limericks on the job market in contemporary times.” He glanced off into the distance wistfully, as if envisioning an ideal future where they did. “Miss M, our aforementioned lady-in-charge, says it’s only since our customers can’t exactly do the Lindy Hop to recitativo verse form.”

“So that means you’re a poet?”

“Indeed!”

You hummed in acknowledgement. He gave his vest a proud little adjustment as part of the performance, not that it served to make him look any more presentable.

“Vivacious vicinal versificator,” he expatiated with a playful half-bow, “humble herald of numinous inspiration, eulogizing the beauties of this peculiar earthly life to the cobblestone and the stars for a passtime. Old Muddy Miss herself has proven to be my most faithful audience… and for lack of substantial competition, in her listening skills she remains unexcelled.”

“Not for long, I should hope.”

That made him pause. Your nerves struck you alert as you rushed to explain.

“That is, well, I would be curious to join said, um, audience… mayhaps… sometime. I mean– you have a fascinating vocabulary, sir, so I can only imagine…”

He listened on with perplexed blue eyes; you mentally smacked yourself for the honorific. No one so refreshingly unrefined as this overeager stray puppy of a man could even remotely qualify for a ‘sir’, and you were happy about that, because had you made so many social blunders with any other stranger in succession you would’ve craved death.

He took his sweet time providing a readable reaction, but when he did he laughed. Not with a mocking edge, as you had feared; the sound tinkled as melodically as his trusty violin.

“Oh, miss, you’re just a bundle of pleasant surprises.”

You came to chuckle along, too, a nervous smile stretching your lips. He took your hand again.

“I’d be delighted to deliver a private recital,” he dipped forward then paused, perhaps contemplating whether a kiss on the back of it would be appropriate, peering up at you in a bluest display of rapt attention that made your heart leap, “if that’s truly the case.”

You averted your eyes. The vague unease as if you’d given your name to a fae in a stroke of recklessness minutes prior melted into the bustle of sluggish, smoke-ridden traffic.

“So where is it that you work?” you switched the topic.

Attuned, he let go of your hand as if it had burned him, adjusting his hat like an excuse.

“Little Daisy Café,” he responded quickly, perpetual cheer intact. “It’s just an ambitious spit from here, actually, a few blocks down that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where you’d been headed. “Awful cute little gem of an establishment. Perhaps you’ve been to?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Well, I can only recommend that you drop by. The pancakes are to die for.”

“And there’s live music?”

You both glanced at the violin, then back at each other. He gave you another grin that you couldn’t help but detect as somewhat complicit.

“Makes your early beverage taste all the sweeter.”

You let your eyes linger on one of the boutique windows in the background; a closed one under construction. The ample light struck it at an angle which obscured the debris-filled darkness and activity inside, flawless glass surface glimmering at front in gorgeous deceit. Its reflective sheen conjured an alluring vision; deep azure sky dotted with fringed, fluffy lamb-clouds.

Suppose you offered it.

“Well, if you won’t let yourself be tipped,” you sighed, putting your money away, “may I treat you to breakfast, at least? A plate of those fabled pancakes, even?”

Childlike delight flashed across his face before the metaphorical reins were pulled back with a frantic grip.

“Why, miss, you’re spoiling me,” he lamented, “but I really shouldn’t–”

“I was heading for the bakery myself,” you continued with a pacifying gesture, “but now with your recommendation in mind, I might as well try a treat from that ‘little gem’ of a café, no? You could show me the way there, and… I suppose I could listen to those stanzas of yours, if you’d be willing to share…”

The words intended to compose the rest of your reasoning kept tumbling from your grasp before you could string them together, and someone in the crowd of pedestrians laughed. A snooty, feminine laugh. He kept watching you and you only, however, engulfing you in that mysterious blue once again.

“…granted that is okay with you, of course.”

He began to smile like the sun itself and dove with startling momentum for the violin case.

“Why, it’d be most uncouth to refuse the benevolent offer of such lovely ladyship,” he concluded while packing away his instrument then slapped the lid over the case once finished, money withstanding, “and I don’t reckon I’ll make two more pennies to rub together this morning, so I’d be more than happy to escort you along.”

He grabbed the handle and sprung up, beaming at you with the energy of a couple additional suns before he got an idea and moved to offer his free arm toward you like the smoothest of gallants. Clearing his throat, to boot.

“Mademoiselle?”

You put a hand to your chest, accentuating the action with a playful once-over.

“Chivalrous,” you chuckled before locking his arm with your own. The two of you would set off this way not unlike lovers, which he stiffened at the realization of.

“Too much?” he questioned.

“No, it’s quite alright.”

The cracks in the sidewalk became very interesting all of a sudden, however. You could feel his skinniness and lack of musculature thus far only guessed through the rolled-sleeved shirt; not that you minded.

Must have not gotten treated to meals often.

“About that poetry,” he piped up a bit quieter than before, “granted you won’t tire of my voice ahead of time…”

“Don’t be silly.”

You gave him a look, then caught yourself.

“Well, alright,” he resigned with an evaluating pout when you turned away, “but, uh… unfortunately, most of my limbs are occupied. And the fervent gesticulation makes up half the performence.”

By that point, you found yourself believing him. You all but burst into laughter at the mental image.

“Maybe you can gesticulate it to me after the fact,” you quipped.

“…Fair enough.”

You reached a street corner together and turned it. From the corner of your eye, a young couple were teasing each other by a flower shop on the opposite side of the road with a posy gift of piquant red tulips, blushing and giggling. You matched the bouncing steps of the stranger you were intertwined with in newfound giddiness.

“Let’s see,” he pondered, scanning the rows of buildings in an absent-minded manner before his eyes lit up. “Right! As fortune would have it, there does happen to be one I’ve been itching to inflict on a willing pair of ears for the past week…”

He made a big show of clearing his throat before he began; you were eager to let the mesmerized flow that had brought you to him in the first place take you along, absorbing the dramatic inflection and animated spirit oozing from his entire complexion as he made the widest gestures he was capable of in his inhibited position nonetheless.

A stranger indeed…

“Wait!”

Before he could proceed with any experimental odes to clay and calicos, you cut him off. He turned to you right away, magic put on hold.

“I never caught your name.”

He glanced around in recollection before those notorious brows sprung up.

“I never passed it,” he exclaimed, bewildered, and wriggled from your hold haphazardly as he scrambled for his hat. “Oh, foolish I! Forgive me this horrendous discourtesy, milady, if you might find it in your heart.”

You simply observed him in amusement.

A zephyr swept along the length of the street, bringing where you stood a nectarine fragrance which, though delicate, transcended the heavy smoke and for a delightful moment let you smell nothing but itself. With his hat now off and held politely to his chest, the breeze ruffled his tousled hair as it did yours. His blue eyes shone in the urban grey like diamonds.

“The name is Rocky Rickaby.”

And when he said it, you already knew you wouldn’t tire of that voice anytime soon.

#{💌 mod rory 💌}#{fun fact!! I did a bit of research on how much ten dollars would've been worth back then}#{and I came out of it still not understanding how dollars work}#{anyway this is finally finished!! keep feeling like there's something weird or historically inaccurate here that I can't quite identify}#{if that's the case feel free to point it out to me!! I don't rlly write historical fiction like. ever}#{Lackadaisy fics sure are a challenge for that reason hahah}#{but I do love it}#lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #rocky lackadaisy #lackadaisy rocky #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy x reader #reader insert

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angelsanarchy · 1 month

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 34 {END}

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

Oystein sat at the typewriter, drafting up a letter for Mayhem's fans. It had been at least nine months since Helvete was closed down, Varg had started his own label and had already put out a demo for his new band. They had auditioned all over Norway and beyond to find someone to re-record their album and they were in the final stages of putting it together.

Oystein didn't expect to fall so seamlessly into living with Y/n but life had been good. He felt like they lived a normal, surprisingly uneventfully fun life together. She decided that she wanted to quit her jobs and start studying in healthcare. He found it noble of her to want to focus on psychiatric care in such a time when people didn't take mental health serious in the slightest.

He had finally taken her home as his girlfriend for the holidays and his family was over the moon excited that they had finally gotten their stuff together enough to be a couple, no one more than his sister. She had made them matching bracelets to wear and made sure Oystein's was black.

Oystein had done exactly what Y/n had suggested and let the sting of Helvete closing burn off before he started looking at other buildings he could lease. Now that they were wrapping up the album, they planned to start the search for Helvete's new home.

Oystein heard the front door open and didn't bother looking up from what he was writing.

"Hey baby, I picked up dinner because I did not feel like cooking tonight." Y/n greeted him putting the food on the table and dropping her bags on a chair. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind and looked over the letter he was proof reading.

"What do you think?" He asked looking it over.

"I think Black Metal is about to get one hell of an album." She kissed the side of his face and he smiled as she bumped his glasses with her lips. He spun around in his chair and put his hands on her hips.

"How was your day beautiful?" He asked pulling her into his lap.

"It was exhausting. I want to get in the bathtub and just soak for like an hour." Y/n rubbed circles into Oystein's chest and his eyebrows went up.

"Sounds nice although you don't look nearly dirty enough for a nice long soak." Oystein teased gripping her hips a little tighter.

"Oh yeah? You want to help with that I'm sure." She smirked at him as she grinded her hips down into his semi-hard cock.

"You know me, I'm a helpful guy." She laughed at his response and she leaned down to kiss him.

"Your dinners going to get cold." She warned as she started to get off his lap but he held onto her wrist.

"That's what the oven is for." He reminded pulling her back onto his lap. She laughed running her hands through his hair.

"Are you gonna leave you glasses on if I let you fuck me?" Y/n teased making Oystein purse his lips at her.

"Let me? You think you get to let me fuck you?" Oystein gripped the back of her neck holding her in place. She bit her lip as he moved his free hand between her thighs and felt the damp spot on her panties. He pulled them to the side and started to play with her clit.

"I fuck you whenever, wherever I want because you belong to me." Oystein sucked a spot on her chest that was exposed. She started to thrust her hips into Oystein's hand but the closer she got, the more she needed him.

"Oystein..." He was equally desperate for her as he tossed her legs off of him and started to undo his belt buckle and jeans. Y/n scrambled to pull her dress over her head and step out of her panties. She practically hurdled his hips to straddle him in the chair. She lowered herself slowly onto him letting out a groan but there was no patience in Oystein's hips as he started pistoning his cock into her. She bounced on his thighs, the sound of her skin slapping his and her moans filled the apartment as she held onto him for dear life.

"F-fuck.." Oystein whined. Y/n put her hand around his throat and squeezed making him look up at her. His glasses were slightly fogged from having his head against her chest.

"You full so good baby. I want you to cum inside of me. I want it. Please." She begged and Oystein's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he continuously slammed his cock into her. When he did cum, Y/n swiveled her hips feeling his load dripping out of her and onto his thigh. He hummed as he tried to come down from his orgasm and she smiled. Once he was able to look at her, he chuckled at the fog covering his lenses. She pulled the glasses off and smiled giving him a sweet kiss.

"Hold on." He said making her throw her arms around his neck as he got up and shuffled them towards the bed. She laughed as his feet squeaked along the floor before she landed on her back on the bed. He silently went back to rubbing her clit and using his fingers to bring her to the same ending as he was. He wasn't sure what was his cum and her own release as it leaked onto the bedspread.

"Don't stop baby. I'm gonna cum." Y/n cried out and Oystein kept his eyes on her face as she came on his fingers, waiting for her to grip his wrist to stop him from overstimulating her.

The two of them lay next to eachother and smiled.

"I think that's the first time we've fucked at your desk." Y/n pointed out. Oystein nodded his head.

"All the time we've been here and we haven't fucked at my desk, kind of hard to believe." Oystein chuckled.

"Well that's your work station. I don't usually like to bother you when you're working on something." Y/n pushed some of his hair off his face and he smiled.

"If you think riding my cock is a bother, I'm clearly doing something wrong." He joked.

"We'll have to make a list of the places we have left to christen around here." Y/n looked around and Oystein agreed.

"We've got plenty of time for that...for now, I need your help getting out of my pants so we can heat up dinner." Oystein looked down at his legs and Y/n laughed seeing the mess of pants, underwear, loosened belts and boots around his ankles.

"You're a mess." She teased helping him take his boots off so he could slip his legs out of his pants.

"Yeah but you love it." He lifted her chin with his thumb and she smirked as he held her chin.

"I do...to hell and back." He smiled at her before kissing her sweetly.

END

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/N #Films: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #Alkaline Series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #END #I can't believe this is over #sorry if the ending is corny

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weepynymph · 8 months

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This is maybe an unpopular opinion but on my last rewatch of Gilmore Girls i just couldn't help but be on Rory's side with how mad she is at Lorelai for shutting her out when she wants to drop out of Yale. Yes it's the wrong move for her, but not letting her move home to figure things out and then freezing her out when she moves in with her grandparents just feels like such a mistake and one that I feel Rory had every right to be upset about. She needed time and space and support to figure things out and Lorelai just didn't give her that, instead it was 'not an option' and not up for discussion, which made Rory feel like she was only supported if she chose to get over it and go back to Yale.

I watch it and I so clearly see how Lorelai's reaction has a LOT to do with her being triggered by her own past trauma (especially with her parents and the fear that Rory will miss out on the same things she did and ultimately be taken away from her by Emily and Richard) and I have so much compassion for what she's dealing with at that point but yeah... Rory's not the only one who fucked up in that rift. In many ways a lot of how it went so wrong has to do with how Lorelai responded to it.

(btw I absolutely LOVE Lorelai I just get sick of everyone blaming Rory for everything)

#Gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #I just can't help but think of how things could have been if lorelai had let her move home #and work at the bookstore until she figured things out

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bellamysgriffin · 1 year

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Dana Watches Gilmore Girls: New and Improved Lorelai (6x01)

#lorelaigilmoreedit #parisgelleredit #ggedit #gilmoregirlsedit #dailytvwomen #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #gilmore girls #*#dwgg*#this made me laugh. definitely a fav moment from the episode #but i can't believe im finally realizing that they are quite literally #just not going to give paris a character arc.... like at all?#if anything shes regressed... and become broader... and she deserves better

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locke-esque-monster · 3 months

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I did not put my money on Percy Jackson, a show helmed by 12 year old characters, to be the first show I've actually seen to authentically portray what happens when you're looking at your passenger more than the road.

Any other tv show: Driver spends half the time looking at the passenger because they're having a "Serious Conversation" TM, and/or they're giving looks with serious longing/romantic overtones. Despite this, the drive is smooth and incident-free.

Percy Jackson show: Percy stares at Annabeth instead of the road for one moment (because she just encouraged/believed in him) and he immediately takes the mirror off the passenger side by scraping the car against a wall.

#looking at you Dean Winchester #I don't want to say that Chuck's favor kept you from crashing the impala #But if you love Baby that much you'd think his eyes would be on the road more #I remember my roommate unable to focus on Jess and Rory talking in GG 2x19 #Because his eyes were more on Rory than the road.#So now I can't watch that scene without thinking it's no wonder Jess crashed Rory's car #bless the PJO writers for showing authentic driving and not this trope #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson disney+#percy jackson tv show #gilmore girls #jess mariano #supernatural #spn #dean winchester

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rogersstevie · 6 months

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something so relatable about rory taking a bunch of bullshit until she finally snaps (like 1x04 when she's late for her test and finally has enough of the way paris and tristan treat her and goes off on them in front of anyone) but especially when she's being treated like she's stupid/when she's not being listened to

1x20 has everyone treating her like she can't deal with anything pertaining to dean or how difficult the breakup is and finally she snaps at lane and then her mom and goes to her grandparents' house to get away from it all because she just wants to be around people who can be empathetic without acting like she's going to break at any second

and 2x20 has everyone in town treating her like she's a silly girl who got caught up with jess and the poor thing got hurt because of his wicked ways and she keeps defending him while nobody listens until she finally blows up at her grandparents' party surrounded by all these people and she goes back home to get away from it all and ultimately finds comfort in luke, the only person who understands jess is not a villain here

#gilmore girls #gg 1x20 #gg 2x20 #like it's very interesting how basically everyone always goes on about rory's maturity and intelligence #and then thinks she can't possibly be a proper judge of her own feelings (particularly lorelai lol see her trying to force rory to wallow)#there might be other examples i just noticed how similar those two bits were

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saltygilmores · 2 months

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DANCE MARATHON EPISODE (AKA MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR)-PART 5

After a quick blowjob break out in the soon-to-be-bloodspattered Stars Hollow High football field, a certain homocidal maniac in a puke green church donation bin coat has returned, and he's ready to dish out some sass. Shane is not in tow yet, but we need to give her time to freshen up and make herself presentable for the remaining few hours of her life.

Lane's pointless bitterness towards Jess is such a fucking waste. My "Lane hates Jess for stupid reasons when they could have been pals" rant has been reheated in the metaphorical microwave too many times already, so I won't repeat myself, but yeah. It's still about that fucking car accident.

Getting your dick sucked on the high school football field before committing a gruesome homocide can really work up a boy's appetite.

Baby you're such a good noticer. *kisses forehead*

I can't think of anyone more deserving of a rock hard permanent public erection. Wait And now, for what is possibly my favorite five-word exchange in the entire series:

The most perfectly executed dry delivery. Ugh! Sheer perfection!

Well, at least egg salad sandwiches beat the Crack and Despair Sandwiches Liz used to pack in his lunchbox.

Miss "My Virginity Spared Me From Becoming Football Field Fertilizer" has arrived with Also-Not-Dancing Butthead in tow. If the food is for the dancers, I better not see him eat anything. I will smack that sandwich out of his hand so fast so help me god (virgins always survive the killing spree).

You ever think about what a monstrous hell it must be for Jess living in a place like Stars Hollow? I think about this a lot. But I like to think that off screen he gets in his car and gets the fuck out of there as much as possible. Anyway, this is another perfectly dry one liner that I absolutely love. I want to fil out adoption papers and take all of his sarcastic one liners from this episode home from the shelter. R: You have nothing better to do than sit in a gymnasum staring at a dance marathon? J:Idk, do you have nothing better to do than sit inside a gymnasium staring at a dance marathon? R:Do you think you're bugging me sitting in front of me and staring like that? J: Do you think you're bugging me dancing and staring at me like that? R: I'm not staring at you! J:How do you know I'm staring at you?

Dean: It's been two years. Maybe you can glance at my dick for once, Rory. Has Rory ever said anything supportive of Dean that wasn't said with the same conviction as if she were a bank robbery hostage? Deany has that constipated look on his face again. Is he sad because no one was staring at him? But someone was. I'll give you a hint, it's a certain MILF who wants to turn that 34 into a 69. Lorelai is 34 years old in this episode, by the way. He's proudly displaying his love of young milfs on his literal sleeve. Listen, you could power Stars Hollow with the combined sexual frustration of these three people + Lane and Dave Ryglaski to make it extra nuclear. When nobody puts out, you get three teenagers eating egg salad and having an "I'm not staring at you!" argument in a school gymansium at 10pm.

Ooooh. Jess is shakin in his little murder boots. J: I'm supporting my town. R: Go back to New York. Oh Rory babe, if only he could, he'd be home now with a smile on his face with a pushcart hot dog in one hand while some easy alt chick rode his dick. Well, yeah he's got that now but he's going to feed her to the swans then take an 8 month vow of celibacy for some reason.

Got em.

He's so LAME. Jared: Hey AmyShermanPalladino, can't Dean get any fun comebacks for once? Why does Milo get all the good sass? AmyShermanPalladino: You can pick from the reject pile. We've got "my former comment still stands" "Are you trying to act tough, you're wearing a tie" and "You're the one who's going"

She's so horny. God help her.

Shane Campbell stars in the newest WB Network vehicle, "My Favorite Murder Victim." He keeps picking at that sandwich like he's going to find a $100 bill in the bread.

You want this poor girl to spend the last precious hours of her life doing math problems?

I guess egg salad will wash the taste of dick out of her mouth.

We heard you the first time, Ice Vagina. What is Dean even doing here, lol.

There's something incredibly erotic about this line.

Dean is like, what the hell is going on? Why is she touching me?

*immediately pushes her off*

Don't give him any more ideas, Jess.

I just want to point out that on the table behind them, fresh fruit and brownies are available for consumption. You know you guys don't have to eat those sandwiches.

Code for "I'm gonna go find the murder implement I stowed away in the bushes earlier"

#gilmore girls #jess mariano #shane campbell #shane is swan food #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #rory gilmore #I can't believe that like a half dozen people read this shit I write and don't unfollow me #bless your hearts #smoochies #I am fucked in the head #I even held back a few really insane things

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