#why are you kind of hot <3< dave
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I'm literally just a freak that made a tumblr sideblog to be even freakier.
you can call me sharms and for the most part this blog is just for me to be freaky about three real people and a bunch of folks from my timelines.
not that you need to know but I'm a diagnosed patient of psychosis and I have a lot of attachments. dont try to check me how do you know that your reality is actually the real one huh.
tags:
#moirail time <> riley
#consuming you <3< norman
#sonadow irl/j <3 sal
#i fell in love with a war <3 candy!karkat
#walking on the wrong path <>/<3 kankri
#hide your insecurities <> non-sgrub!kurloz
#happy birthday from blue <> blue
#theres a hole that you fill <3</<> non-sgrub!feferi
#youll see me again <3 arcjec voorat
#its hard to be charming smart and disarming <3 karkat
#maybe you would learn to live a fucking life <3 hal
#why are you kind of hot <3< dave
#vomit in the void of doom
#candy!sollux thoughts
#eridan thoughts
#non sgrub!mituna thoughts
#moirail time <> riley#consuming you <3< norman#sonadow irl/j <3 sal#i fell in love with a war <3 candy!karkat#walking on the wrong path <>/<3 kankri#hide your insecurities <> non-sgrub!kurloz#happy birthday from blue <> blue#theres a hole that you fill <3</<> non-sgrub!feferi#youll see me again <3 arcjec voorat#its hard to be charming smart and disarming <3 karkat#maybe you would learn to live a fucking life <3 hal#why are you kind of hot <3< dave#vomit in the void of doom#candy!sollux thoughts#eridan thoughts#non sgrub!mituna thoughts
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since hes open to feedback im considering talking to james roach about giving jade the justice she deserves after her narrative shafting in act 6 and one-dimensional ooc-ness (and also being a plot device deprived of agency) in the epilogues. if i do im probably going to link to this post……
so james if i sent this to you and you’re reading this, hi! :)
you say, “i want you to know if youre having problems with the story you can come to me with it and i will hear you out”. first of all you are such a good dude and have such a good open honest approach to the fans. i need to get that out there, because i know you’re just as much a fan of these characters and world are we are. secondly, i don’t know what your plans for homestuck beyond canon are, but dave and jade’s poor handling is a problem in both homestuck canon (act 6, even act 5 fucking them over with “tell, don’t show”; see the latter half of section 1 of the post at > Dave: Deploy cloning apparatus. and section 2) and post-canon that has yet to be addressed.
i understand the nuances of making things flow in a story; things that have already been established can’t be simply retconned. i wrote this post knowing that in mind and hopefully working around that into believably timed and justified/needed arcs gives it more potential
jade is a character i care about so much, and many fans also. her dynamic with dave was one of my favorites but the resolution to their separation…is not even really a resolution. it’s hard to talk about one without the other since theyve always been narratively intertwined. or at least jade has
remember how they musically collaborated more than the other kids? (crystalanthemums is their surprisingly tender song dont forget. i saw that the weird troll grub versions of objects make a comeback in the upd8; make music a relevant part of homestuck in-universe again too </3) dave sending her sbahj furry poster in the mail? the first ones to use a collaborative fraymotif in the comic? kringlefucker and conksuck boot? literally collaborating on creating the right seed for the new universe? and then dave died in jade’s arms and they were separated for 3 years and then that never gets touched on because of the retcon and all the other endgame shit going on (and lets be real grimbark jade from before the retcon wasn’t a satisfying reunion either). we get like, a brief exchange of dialogue at the very very end that made you want to see MORE of them after the battle but it. doesnt happen.
and then in the epilogues jade gets warped into this oddly hypersexual ooc one-dimensional character meant to narratively get in the way of davekat and it’s so awkward and uncomfortable for them. and even THEN in meat timeline gets her agency revoked by the narrative with alt calliope. and in candy dave realizes he’s gay (i thought he was explicitly bi? didnt he call jane hot multiple times both pre-and post-retcon, and once call roxy a “choice babe” in pajamas before he knew it was his ectomom?? if you’re actually gay and in denial why would you have these subconscious freudian blunders). and being married to jade gnaws at him because of it which is. unsatisfying i guess and isn’t consistent with dave’s established sexuality…and then he dies leaving his probably concerned wife and becomes a robot. even if the “point” is that the epilogues are metanarrative commentary about storytelling and candy represents the kind of fanfic that goes off the rails with fanservice it doesn’t feel good when i still care about these characters and their established canons. and a lot of people are in the same camp as me regarding this. it’s still an uncomfortable resolution for their relationship
i really want to see jade’s arc overcoming being used as a puppet by the narrative and the space aspect. just some things to think about / consider that have been running through my head: she’s a witch, right? isn’t what she’s supposed to do is actively bend the rules of her aspect? feferi bended the rules of life by asking the horrorterrors to create dream bubbles so the deceased could still sort of “live” which had a massive narrative impact. who exactly determines that being spacebound means you are fated to be passive and alone? the author? alt calliope? how do we know alt calliope can be trusted or if she’s just projecting her experiences as the most passive class possible onto jade, who ironically has an active manipulation class but is forced to be passive for some reason? normal calliope wasn’t right about everything classpect-related either.
ultimately these things are up to you. you’re still the director of course. but i’m speaking to you, as equally caring of these characters as you and everyone on the team, as a hypothetical suggestion or just something to consider for a jade arc: i think it would do such good to jade and the comic as a whole to see her speak to the manager and recognize the power she has and take back the reigns over her own life and dignity. jade is MAD that she had her own possibilities for socialization and agency taken away from her. and with floralmarsupial, my beloved mutual floral who i went to homestuck high together with, i KNOW the potential they possess to write a compelling arc for jade harley. i think everyone knows too lol floral is THE compelling deep jade harley fanwork big name fan. i dont know what we got to lose. with you guys in charge now, and with the last we see of jade in hs^2 (now hs:bc) fighting callie’s influence and advocating for her own agency, really the only way to go from here for jade is up. (assuming she doesn’t permadie of peanut but i doubt that’s going to happen since she’s one of the original kids and it wouldn’t be satisfying storytelling. and it’s homestuck)
this statement so ripe with potential to me ^ and we’re left on a cliffhanger with jade going in this direction
i want jade and dave to be close friends who care about each other a lot and do silly stuff together again. this isn’t even a call to make davejade canon; it doesnt have to be romantic—i dont want a davekat davejade war to break out, you know? i know you’re trying to balance fan demands. but i just loved their dynamic a lot and i MISS it so much, homestuck act 6 didnt give us this and i wish their reunion had more that went into it. we’re past that point though
i want jade and dave to have a talk that’s like old times. something that isn’t awkward as hell or about sexual relations or drama or whos fucking who. just something for the two of them. something that grounds them in what made homestuck so compelling in the first place: character and friendships and these kind of interactions
i want to see them collaborate again. an idea i have is maybe they start a band or something since they’re both musically talented and also live together so they can make stuff together in person now. you’re a music guy you get it. tangle buddies. jam buddies
and maybe something more serious that concerns just the two of them. post-retcon dave never talked to jade about his thoughts when they fought bec noir right? knowing that jade would inevitably kill him with bullets through bec, but he couldnt warn her because he knows she wouldn’t go through with it, creating a doomed timeline? so jade thought all that time she killed him by accident…..what about all that guilt she must harbor? the first person she had in-person contact with since she was probably four years old, her best friend online, and accidentally killed him within just a few hours of meeting him? and never got to talk about it with him, let alone anyone, after three years? hello?? :(
these are the final lines of the last pesterlog between jade and dave before their 3-year separation (and basically all of act 6)
so uh…..this exchange really openly invites some kind of talk to take place even if it’s long overdue. among other things maybe. they need to hug or something. jade’s touch starvation is real, but not everything needs to be sexualized about touch. she’s lonely and starved of affection but i feel like it would be more meaningful if it wasn’t sexualized. just really basic platonic primal cloth mother needs. just like..both being human beings and having basic needs like this that jade’s been deprived of. who’s the person she would feel most comfortable going to? who does she have the richest history with throughout the webcomic? dave, right? her online best friend since childhood that always cared a lot about her? they have stuff to talk about
i feel like that would address the issue people had with jade’s out of left-field promiscuity in the epilogues and even leftovers of it in hs^2. not only do i think primal platonic touch starvation would be a more meaningful and evocative type of interaction to give them at some point, it wouldn’t rock the boat or create any ship drama (davekat has long since sailed and most people seem to be on board with it) and it would probably be really positive representation of these sorts of things which not only throws a bone to aroace people but just depicting this sort of thing normalizes the fact that two people can be close and not necessarily in an official relationship.
this is a good transition point to this post also which is basically an extension to this one. it’s exactly the issues i had. it’s on the nature of what they had going and how much they mean to each other but how the storytelling held them back when it was unnecessary
this breaks my heart. mr. roach and hs:bc writing team please i miss my favorite blorbo duo being happy in each other’s company. they were such good friends but circumstances pulled them apart. i miss when they created music together and talked about their interests and exchanged quips. i am such a well of ideas for stuff like this. show us how much they mean to each other again
if youre still reading this james thanks for hearing me out. if you wanna pass on to the writing team to look at and get their feedback on this i’d be so so thankful
“and to think that after all this he still chose to save her, like always, probably knowing he had little to no chance, just because he cares for her, her life and who she is beyond this moment, really meant a lot for them. i really, really was mad that this would be the last time they would truly ever be together in a way that to me mattered” — vintagegamebro
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Two For One: Ch. 3
Part One | Part Two
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-vampire Max, pre-Equalizer 2 Dave, familial drama and angst, mentions of drug use/abuse, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, oral (m receiving), dom!Dave, soft!Dave, dom!Max, unprotected p in v, degradation, choking, voyeurism.
Word Count: 10k+
Notes: I don’t even know. Max is an asshole as usual but also kind of sweet at one point, Dave is his normal creepy self but that’s why we love him. Reader has a magical vagina apparently
——
Dave barely slept without you next to him.
He could still smell you on his sheets, his skin. It was driving him insane, his proximity to you. So close yet so far. There were several times he debated getting out of bed and going to you, but he willed himself to stay. Dave knew he wasn’t a good man—a fucked up man, even—but there were lines even he wouldn’t cross.
Still, dreaming about sneaking into your apartment in the middle of the night to fuck you senseless was making him hard as ever. You made him feel young again.
He settled for fucking his hand to the video he took of you instead, hot tendrils of spend soaking his stomach as he honed in on the faces you made, listening to your pretty noises. It was nowhere near as good as the real you, but it was all he could do to alleviate the ache, the constant yearning he felt.
He wakes early the next day. Before sunrise. He knew you were unlikely to be up at this hour, so he tries to preoccupy himself with packing for the trip, neatly arranging his clothes in a small weekend bag, packing a smaller separate bag for toiletries. Lastly, in its own case, his trusty Beretta M9A1, which he tucks into the larger of the two bags.
He sips on a cup of tea, extra strong, his head fuzzy from only having gotten a couple of hours of consistent sleep at best. He googles the hours of your coffee shop, uncertain if you would even be there, to find it doesn’t open for another hour and a half.
He settles for walking to the 24 hour store on the corner and purchasing a can of Monster, toying with his phone, wondering if he should try messaging you despite how early it is. As he’s rounding the corner back to his building, glancing up at your window which is still dark, he finagles his phone out of his pocket and opens his texts.
There’s already one there from you, a simple “Hey”, when you’d texted him last night so he would have your number. It tugs at his chest seeing the lone message.
Dave: Morning. You up?
He hits send and instantly chastises himself for being so needy. It’s done now, though. Nothing he can do about it. He’ll worry about it later.
He goes back to his apartment and chugs the cocktail of pure sugar and caffeine, tossing the can into the trash, but it does little to curb his exhaustion, only elevating his heart rate. Finished packing, and complete with his intel gathering on Jonathan for the time being, he isn’t sure what else he can do before he needs to leave for Virginia. He can, of course, depart early, leaving nothing to the fate of traffic and other unknowns. But he doesn’t like that idea. He would much rather see you.
He starts to think of last night again, his dick hard again, and he grunts, annoyed with his never ending horniness at this point.
He tries to ignore his slew of persistent thoughts by turning on the TV to watch the early morning news, slumping into his couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. The weatherman is currently reciting the 10-day forecast. Supposed to be nice weather into next week. That’s good news, Dave thinks.
He leans back and makes himself comfortable, rubbing his ever present erection over his pants, trying to take his mind off of you. He doesn’t want to jerk off again. He wants the next time he cums to be with you. In you.
“Jesus,” he mumbles to himself, wiping his eyes.
He checks his phone even though he’s sure you haven’t responded. Still nothing. He frowns and tosses the offending piece of technology onto the couch and shuts his eyes.
With your face the last image in his mind’s eye, Dave drifts off.
——
He startles himself awake, sleep deprived brain in a panic, concerned that he’s running late, concerned that he missed his window to see you.
He checks his phone for the time, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s only been half an hour, but it feels like he slept for half a century.
There’s also no texts from you. You’re probably still asleep. But part of him also worries that you’re dodging him.
He cards a hand through his hair, groaning in frustration. He needs to shower. And then he needs to eat. Food is the last thing on his mind right now, though. The only sustenance he wants—needs—is you.
It’s just after 5 AM. He could get in another cat nap in, if he wanted, but he’s worried he might not get so lucky a second time. He decides not to risk it, urging himself to get off the sofa and into the shower.
As he strips down to bare skin, stiff cock springing free, he can’t stop thinking about how the wet press of your body would feel against his. How you would feel sandwiched between himself and the shower wall as he drives himself into you over and over until your throat is raw from screaming his name.
He wishes you were here.
——
The edges of consciousness start to blink into existence. You can see sunlight filtering through the flesh of your closed eyelids, hear the distant sounds of the city that drift in through the window by your bed. You hear a dog barking somewhere and the grind of a garbage truck a block down.
And then another noise, foreign to your ears, breaking through the song of the city and the fog of your mind: a loud, aggressive buzzing from somewhere inside your apartment.
What the fuck?
You jerk awake, early morning sun too bright to your sleep-wasted eyes, and the buzzing is bellowing at you again, making your head throb. You grumble in aggravation.
You scramble out of bed, tripping over your comforter as you do so, to locate the source of the invasive sound. It doesn’t take you long to find it, a bronze panel on the wall with a speaker and button by the door that you’ve largely ignored until now, thinking it was defunct when the landlord never took the time to explain it to you.
You go over to it, cautiously depressing the button under your finger, mumbling a sleepy, and slightly irritated, “Hello?”
There’s the faint scratch of static and then a voice, tinny and distorted, but clear enough to understand and recognize: “Hey. Sorry if I woke you. It’s Dave.” His tone is apologetic.
You blink, rubbing your eyes. What time is it? Why is he here?
“It’s okay. Morning, Dave.”
There’s a pause. Then: “I brought you some breakfast. Can I come up for a minute?”
You let go of the button and sigh. You should really say no, but he went through the trouble of getting you something—your people pleasing nature rearing its ugly head once again—even though you were just going to eat the baklava you both forgot about last night for breakfast.
You press the button again. “Yeah, sure. I don’t think I have a way to buzz you in so I’ll be right down…” you say.
“No, no, it’s okay, I see someone coming down now,” Dave responds, followed by more static and what you think is shuffling. “What’s your unit number?”
It’s all a ruse on his part, of course, because he already knows the unit number and no one is actually coming. But he has to make it believable. He has to see you, take care of you—in more ways than one.
Before he left his apartment, he pocketed a piece of technology left over from his CIA days, a small spy camera roughly the size of a golf tee. Part of himself thinks he should feel guilty for even considering what he’s about to do. It was an invasion of privacy, surely, something most often reserved for criminals and terrorists. You were neither—far from it—but he knows he needs to keep you in his sights as often as possible. He’ll go mad if he doesn’t. Especially while he’s gone.
“Be right up,” he replies when you give your unit, tapping in the door code from memory and letting himself into the building.
He clutches the bag with your everything bagel and bottle of orange juice and heads up the stairs. He deliberated on getting you a coffee, but considering where you work, you probably have your own coffee at home, so he settled on orange juice for the vitamin C to cure the undoubted hangover you surely have.
He reaches the landing and finds you already standing in the doorway of your apartment, waiting for him, a cigarette already perched between your fingers, smoke curling to the ceiling.
You’re not exactly dressed to impress in your dark blue camisole, pink plaid pajama bottoms, fuzzy black slippers and sky blue house robe covered in fluffy white clouds. Your hair is a rat’s nest and everything about you screams disheveled and just rolled out of bed, barely having the energy to shower last night and then going to sleep with wet hair, but Dave slows when his gaze lands on you, taking in the full sight of you. Forcing himself to maintain composure.
“Hey,” he says quietly, a warm smile pooling across his face.
“Hey,” you offer back, mirroring his smile. You can’t help it—he looks good—damn good—in his slate gray tee and black sweatpants that don’t leave a lot of room for interpretation.
You blush feverishly and he responds in kind, averting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The audacity of this man to act bashful after what he did to you. Your stomach flutters full of butterflies.
“Is that Sal’s?” you query, pointing at the bag and diverting your wandering thoughts. “I love them!” You’re pretty sure Sal’s is one of the first places you ever noticed Dave.
“Yeah. Everything bagel with extra cream cheese,” he responds. “I’ve overheard you order it before. I hope that isn’t weird.”
Maybe it is a little weird, but it’s fine. At least he pays attention. Jonathan lived with you for months and still couldn’t remember a damn thing you liked.
“No, I think it’s sweet. Thanks,” you say, taking the bag from him and peeking inside.
“And orange juice for vitamin C and hydration. Good for a hangover,” Dave points out, hooking one corner of his lips into a lopsided grin.
You smile at Dave. You aren’t sure if you should ask him in or what the custom even is for a situation where you just met a guy and he fucked you into another dimension.
Your head adjusts slightly and you meet his gaze. A look is shared between the two of you—Dave giving you the same look he gave you last night, dark eyes and tightly pursed lips—arousal sparking hot between your legs as your mind starts to replay all the events from the previous evening. A blaze licks through you like unchecked wildfire.
Dave takes a tentative step towards you at roughly the same time Mrs. Tobin’s door starts to click open over his shoulder, your eyes going wide as you gather a handful of his shirt and yank him into your apartment, quickly shutting the door behind you before she can see the cigarette still smoldering in your hand, ash slowly flitting to the floor in a rush of movement.
You start to tell Dave that the old bitch has already reported you for smoking in the building, but the words don’t have a moment to leave your mouth, broad hands spanning your waist to walk you backwards, lips crashing into yours as you both share a desperate moan.
You grunt into Dave’s mouth when you feel the kitchen counter collide with your ass, still very much sore from the night before. He plucks the cigarette and bag from your hands, snuffing the carcinogenic stick out in the sink next to you and placing the bag on the counter for you to indulge later.
He undoes the binds of your robe to let it splay open, hands slithering around to your backside to cup both cheeks in his hands, kneading, pulling you apart.
You keen in reverence of his touch. You and Dave are an incendiary mix, fire meeting gasoline, your only time spent together so far a need to be so close your fibers might as well be fused at the seams.
“I missed this ass,” Dave whispers, giving it a small slap. “Couldn’t sleep because of it.” Because of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over being the first to pop your ass cherry and how well you took it.
He kisses you again, tongue dragging the cavern of your mouth, lashing against your own. You don’t even give it much thought as you slip your arm down the front of his pants to find he isn’t wearing anything under his sweats, hips bucking into your clutches as your fingers circle and stroke his shaft.
“Fuck,” he pants into your mouth. “I don’t have much time.” His eyes drill into yours, wild and chaotic, lips parted in a savage, carnal snarl. He should have been on the road fifteen minutes ago, but he couldn’t resist leaving without seeing you. Especially not now.
“We need to be fast, then,” you suggest, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. He removes your robe and lets it fall to the floor, fingers digging into the sensitive meat of your ass as he lifts you up to carry you to the bed.
You link your legs around his waist and hold onto his wide shoulders to steady yourself as he carries you, your back making contact with the mattress a moment later.
He rips your pajama bottoms down your legs, revealing that you, too, are not wearing any underwear.
“Prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen,” he surmises, spreading you open, bending down to spit directly onto your sex. He doesn’t have a lot of time to prepare you, but he needs to give you something, gliding two of his fingers through the mixture of your arousal and his spittle, pressing said thick digits into your opening, pumping.
“Do you remember the safe word?” Dave asks you.
“Yes,” you say quietly. Your tunnel tightens around his fingers, sucking him in, your body already in pursuit of relief.
He lands a sharp smack to the top of your cunt with a growl, your walls squeezing even harder around his fingers. “Say it. And address me as sir.”
“F-foxglove, s-sir,” you reply, your voice wavering. He rewards you by curling his fingers against your sensitive patch of nerves, making you keen.
“Atta girl. Are you ready to take me?”
“Dave—I mean, sir—I have condoms
—“
He stretches an arm over you to slap a breast, this time. The sensitive one that he did a number on last night, causing you to choke on a gasp, your core flooding with arousal at the rush of pain.
“That’s not what I asked, sweetheart. Our rules from last night still stand. You need to trust me.” He deliberately slows his fingers, bringing them nearly to a stop as he looks up at you with not-quite-innocent, expansive brown eyes, awaiting your answer.
“Yes sir. I’m ready to take you, sir,” you acquiesce, rubbing your sensitive breast. He doesn’t reprimand you this time.
He pulls his fingers from you and stands, sliding the sweat pants down his legs and kicking them out of the way, revealing smooth, well muscled thighs; engorged sex flared red and weeping.
He spreads your legs apart and doesn’t give you any additional time to ready yourself, notching himself at your entrance and then shoving himself forward all the way until he bottoms out, exhaling a long breath as he does so, hips shuddering with pleasure.
He fills you in ways you didn’t think were possible, flaying you apart, making you feel every last centimeter of his length and girth, even with the initial shallow gyrations of his hips.
“Shit,” he rumbles, leaning onto his calves so he can watch you swallow him. “So good at taking me, sweet girl.”
He could watch you like this all day, split open and keening on his cock, but time is a mournfully pressing issue. He lifts your legs to rest your calves against the wide breadth of his shoulders, parting you even more as he wastes no time in breaking into an unrelenting sprint.
It sends you spiraling, the small of your back coming off the mattress with a loud cry that vibrates your lungs.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Make yourself cum.”
You don’t need to be told twice. Your hand finds your swollen clit just shy of the press of your bodies, gathering some slick on the pads of your fingers, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Still so sore,” you plead, your fingers flicking lightly between your legs. “Don’t know if I can, sir.”
Dave clicks his tongue. “I don’t care. You will cum for me. Or I’ll flip you over and fuck that sweet ass of yours again if you don’t,” he threatens, causing your asshole to pucker at the mere mention. “Make you leak my cum two days in a row.”
“N-no,” you mumble, your words rising and falling with every hard slam of his hips. “Please don’t.”
“Then cum for me,” he snarls, the bridge of his nose creased in a sneer, bottom lip jutted outward in concentration. He slaps one side of your hip to aggregate his point. “Cum on my cock or I’m filling your ass again.” His dick thrums just at the thought.
Your fingers move faster, circling and strumming at your clit, a definite sting of discomfort ever present but fading gradually as your pleasure begins to build, the tell tale sensation growing deep in your core. You never thought of yourself as a person to enjoy pain, or being so carelessly manhandled, yet here you are.
“Oh, Dave…” you whine, cupping your unmarked breast with your other hand, rolling the nipple between your fingers.
His grueling pace doesn’t falter. Your noises are driving him to the brink and he isn’t sure how much longer he can hold out, but he wants you to cum. Needs you to cum.
He’s poised on his knees, gripping handfuls of your upper thighs, slamming into you as deftly and expeditiously as he can manage at his age, with a back destroyed by years of hard physical labor.
You let out a high pitched moan and he grunts, fingernails digging into your flesh, leaving behind tiny pink crescent moons of himself there. Another stake in his claim to you.
“Alright baby, alright baby. Come on now. Cum for me.” His voice is soft and deep, eyes trained on your face. He can feel your walls tightening around him, and he knows you’re close.
The tight coil in your lower abdomen unfurls and your climax suddenly works its way through you, a cry rolling from your lips, back arching as you clamp down and strangle him, sucking him deeper. He growls, guttural and worshipping, as you peak.
He rears back to spit on you, a hot globule of saliva landing on your stomach and pooling in the hollow divot of your belly button.
“That’s right, you fucking whore, fuck— sit up and open your mouth,” he snarls in a deep timbre from the depths of his chest.
He doesn’t give you a moment to respond or even comprehend, pulling out of you and yanking you upright to the edge of the bed, digging his fingers into your hair at the base of your skull to pull your mouth onto him, and you part your lips subserviently.
He presses the slick, engorged head to your lips and pushes himself forward into your mouth. He’s so girthy, stretching you beyond what you’re used to, but you let your muscles slacken, everything relaxing to better accept him.
He groans and pushes deeper, a trek through the wet heat of your mouth, holding your head in place as he finds his way.
“That’s it, sweet girl, open up for me—“
He begins to thrust, shallow at first, working you apart centimeter by centimeter. He reaches the back of your throat and it is a struggle not to gag, tears breaking at the rims of your eyes, but you push through it, exhaling through your nostrils as you peer up at him through your lashes.
His hand finds the outer bend of your throat, collaring you, gripping snugly as he begins to rut faster, feeling himself moving in your esophagus in the cradle of his hand. It’s all too much, too much and somehow not enough to diminish his never ending thirst for you, cock twitching and balls pulling tight in his scrotum as he starts to empty himself down your throat with a loud groan, panting your name on his lips.
“Fuck!”
He keeps you there for several moments longer, everything from the waist down shivering and shuddering with exertion, until he starts to grow soft between your lips. His cock slips wet and heavy from your mouth, a thin line of spittle connecting and then breaking as he moves away.
He falls into bed next to you to catch his breath, landing on his back, one large hand settling on your thigh as he shields his eyes from the rays of sunlight with the other. “Thank you,” he says quietly, broad chest rising and falling with every breath.
You tilt your head at him. “No, thank you,” you counter.
You look down at Dave, the sharp cut of his jaw and plush lips peeking out from beneath his hand. An unexpected scorch of anxiety moves through you as it occurs to you that you’re liking Dave a little too much and too quickly, making you feel nothing but unsettled, your stomach doing flip flops. You don’t want a repeat of Jonathan.
“I should, um. Go clean myself up,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed. Dave’s hand slides from your thigh with a heavy thud against the mattress, and he watches you go, disconcerted at your apparent and sudden unease. But knowing this is likely his only chance to plant the camera, he lets you go.
“I’ll join you in a second,” he calls out. As soon as you disappear into the bathroom, he slowly scoots off the bed, quietly as he can to not arouse suspicion. He hears the creak of a faucet being turned and water spilling out.
He rises to his feet and glances around. Your apartment looks as much as he imagined it would, faded blue walls with a few pictures hung of what appears to be family, along with several pieces of art. You seem to like dark and semi-abstract, one of the larger pieces a bloody skull on a black background, daisies placed in the skull’s eye sockets, paint strokes appearing to be scratched together with a palette knife rather than an actual brush.
It stirs something in his soul, if he has one. He is the skull and you are the flowers. He steps closer for further examination but doesn’t see an artist signature anywhere. Did you paint this? Did your ex?
His jaw ticks.
You have a few plants in the window sill, some of them thriving and some not. The apartment is cluttered and unkempt but not trashy. You aren’t as fastidious as Dave, but he likes that about you. It compliments him, balances him out. He notices a few empty bottles of alcohol in the trash bin next to the kitchen.
He dips to grab his pants where the camera is stowed, reaching into the pocket to grab it as he continues to look for an optimal location. And then he finds one: a bent slat in the vent by your window, which directly faces the bed. The gap is just wide enough to slip the camera in between.
He moves to the vent and tucks the camera inside, between the slats, the lens pointed directly at your headboard. He maneuvers it into place until he’s satisfied with its placement, hoping it will stay put. He’ll be able to control it from both his phone and his computer.
As he turns to join you in the bathroom, he notices your own laptop propped precariously on a folding table in the corner, screen open to what appears to be a word document, cursor still visibly flashing. A work in progress of sorts. Curiosity gets the better of him and he moves over to the screen, bending to read the words written there:
Raye found herself in what appeared to be a pasture, grass as high as her chest, which was bathed in a gentle pouring of pale golden moonlight. Her shirt clung to her sweat-damp skin and her chest heaved with effort, legs pumping as quickly as she could move them, propelling her forward into the tall grass.
She was alone as far as she could tell. No cows or horses that she could discern, nothing that could act as possible interference for the creature in pursuit. No buildings in sight. Only a line of trees in the nearby distance, and swarms of june bugs that smacked into her face and body as she ran.
She knew there must be a road somewhere beyond the trees. She had gotten lost after running out of gas in the middle of her road trip down south, turning down the wrong kind of country road in the middle of Louisiana at night, which had landed her smack dab in the middle of the woods, her bearings and sense of direction scrambled, the thing chasing her still snapping at her heels. She had only glimpsed the massive animal for a split second before she bolted, her instincts telling her to run.
And then the inevitable happened. Her foot found a well in the soil, her momentum so great that she tumbled ass over teakettle into the dirt and grass, a cry of pain escaping her lungs as her shoulder made contact with the hard packed earth.
She only had a moment to look up before she saw it, the massive wolf-like monster’s jaws descending on her, fangs flashing silver in the glow of moonlight. Patchy tendrils of black fur streaking out of its dark, greasy skin.
It ends there and he hums to himself. You hadn’t talked about writing before, and he’d found no evidence of it otherwise. It’s good. Really good. You continue to intrigue him.
He makes it to the bathroom and you’re just starting to towel off, smiling at him with your eyes. There’s a damp rag on the edge of the sink. He reaches for it.
“May I?” he asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.
The audacity of this man.
“By all means,” you reply, taking a step back, stumbling on a pile of dirty laundry. You watch and blush as Dave runs the moist towel over himself. Even soft, his size is impressive.
“So, what are you going to Virginia for?” you query, making conversation. His eyes meet yours and his expression grows somber.
“To see my two girls,” he answers honestly. “My ex and I… well, I get to see them twice a month. It… it’s a fucked up situation.” He doesn’t elaborate. This man is a fucking enigma.
You aren’t sure how to process this new snippet of information. Two girls? Ex? You must be making a face because he reaches for your hand.
“I’m sorry. I meant to tell you last night—it just wasn’t the right time.”
“It’s okay,” you offer weakly. “I mean, kind of a shock, but it’s fine.”
He brushes his fingers over the back of his neck, regretful that he didn’t tell you sooner, so consumed in his desire of you he didn’t want to send you running for the hills. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a lot.”
You cross your arms. “What are their names and how old are they?” you inquire.
“Mollie is six and Alice is four,” he replies.
You nod. “It is a lot,” you confirm, a vicious knot twisting its way around your stomach. You weren’t a big fan of kids. Maybe this could actually be what prevents you from falling for Dave, a fact you couldn’t help to admit you were a little grateful for. “But it’s okay. I understand.”
His countenance darkens into a sad smile, those dark brown eyes gazing at you, shiny and big and apologetic. God, why does he have to look at you like that?
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and pulls you into his chest, arms circling your back, hands finding the swell of your ass and softly squeezing. He bends to kiss you, and in spite of yourself, you let him. It’s a tender kiss, delicate and gentle, reminding you once again that Dave is a man of many faces.
He breaks the kiss a moment later, staring into your eyes, brushing your hair back from your face. “I really don’t want to, but I need to be going. Will you walk me to my car?”
——
You walk Dave down. You don’t bother putting on real clothes, wearing exactly what you had on when you woke up. The only difference is you briefly ran a brush through your hair.
He walks with his arm linked around your shoulders. He’s proud to show you off even in your current state. You try not to think about it. You don’t need more reasons to get attached. You need less.
“This is me,” he says, pointing to a sensible black Elantra, which you’ve definitely seen around before.
“I hope you have a nice trip. Have fun with your girls,” you say.
“Always do.” That was a lie. As much as he appreciated spending time with them, it was always full of undue stress and bone numbing exhaustion, two weeks worth of anxiety crammed into a single weekend. If only he could take you with him to ease some of the suffering.
“We’ll have to go out again sometime when I get back,” he suggests. “I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
He smiles. Kisses you, again, more passionate than the last, but not at all salacious. You break the kiss, this time.
“You’re beautiful,” Dave says, his hand resting against the column of your neck. “So beautiful.” His thumb traces your pulse point.
You playfully shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge an inch because he’s an immovable wall of flesh. “Stop it. I look like shit. And you need to go.”
“You don’t look like shit. But I do need to go.”
He goes to kiss you one final time, cradling your jaw. The last for who knows how long, depending on how long the hit takes.
A sound registers at your six. And then barking, loud and shrill, a familiar voice attempting—and failing—to calm the offending dog.
“Good mornin’, dear,” Mrs. Tobin says in a thick Irish accent, and you turn to find her coming back from her early morning walk with her Yorkie, Jack.
“Morning, Mrs. Tobin.” Your hand goes to your neck, doing your best to hide the dark marks on your skin.
“Morning,” Dave offers. He pretends not to be bothered by the interruption.
“Come now, Jackie boy, it’s just our neighbor and her friend,” she says to the small dog with a knowing wink, still trying to settle him. Her eyes track where your hand is. “Or maybe more’na friend. You don’t have to hide those from me, dear. I was young once too, yeh know,” she says with a short laugh.
You blush. Dave blushes, too. God. This man.
“Well, hope yeh have a nice mornin’. Let’s go, Jackie boy, give ‘em some privacy,” she says, tugging at the leash.
“You too,” you reply with a touch of annoyance. Dave lifts his hand in a wave. As soon as she’s a reasonable distance away, he finally gets to kiss you. Again. And it’s nice. Too nice.
Okay, maybe you are falling for him.
——
After hastily shoving the bagel down your throat, you end up going back to bed for a few hours. No work, no responsibilities. You put your phone on Do Not Disturb. If there’s a work emergency, they can call Maury or they’ll just have to figure it out themselves. You can’t always hold their hands for them. You’re going to take advantage of the opportunity to get some rest.
You wake later in the day to several missed texts and four missed calls from your mom. And one from Dave, from before he showed up at your door.
You groan and hesitantly open the texts from your mother. You let out a sigh of exasperation when you read what’s got her so spooked, deciding it isn’t worth it to call her back right away. At least not before you have some coffee to lift the haze from your mind. She’s waited this long; she can wait longer.
Mom: Ur brother is back in jail. Call me when u get a chanse ok?
Of fucking course he is. You toss the phone down with a roll of your eyes. Garrett has had so many run ins with the law since you were a kid, you’ve lost count at this point.
You brew yourself some coffee. One of the perks of managing a coffee shop is free bags of coffee, and this one is good—pumpkin pecan, one of the new seasonal flavors. You were as basic as they come when it came to anything pumpkin flavored.
You scarf down the baklava as you inhale your coffee, which you suppose is your lunch. You feel a little bad that you forgot to offer Dave half of it, but he got what he showed up for, so you don’t dwell on it.
Your mom calls again. You answer, this time, sighing as you place the phone against your ear. You don’t even bother with a hello.
“I already saw. Sorry to hear that, mom.” You really aren’t.
“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick!” your mom chides. “Your brother’s in jail an’ you’re MIA?”
“Yeah, mom, I’m a grown woman with my own life in a different city. I was resting. I don’t have to be at your every beck and call, especially when it isn’t even that import—“
“The hell it ain’t! How’m I supposed to get him out of there? I don’t have bail money!”
You light one of your cigarettes and take a long drag before responding. “I’m not sending you money to bail him out,” you state firmly. “First of all, I don’t have it right now. And secondly, he’ll never learn if—“
“Then what’re we supposed to do?” she snorts.
“I don’t know. Leave him in there, or get a bail bondsman. Not my problem,” you say, your tone flat and apathetic. You’ve been numb to this issue since you were a teen. Since all the empty promises he made to you of coming clean.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!”
“No, I’m not. I’ll send you money for grandma’s medical bills, or groceries or rent, but I’m not sending money for this.”
“So, that’s it, huh? You just don’t give a shit about us?”
You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised she doesn’t hear it through the phone.
“How’s grandma?” you question, notably changing the subject.
The line goes dead. You stare at the phone. She hung up on you.
Figures.
You don’t bother calling her back. There’s no point. You’ll never come to an agreement on the issue, anyway, and it will only stress you out more than necessary.
Garrett has always been your mother’s favorite. It used to bother you. As expensive as Boston is, and as much as you miss Texas and your grandma, you’re happy to be well removed from that life right now. Studio apartments are more your jam than living in trailer parks.
You decide that your anger with the issue is a good enough motivator to help you clean, which you’ve been sorely neglecting doing for far too long. You turn on your angriest playlist—Korn, Deftones, Slipknot, et cetera—and spend most of the day deep cleaning everything. The Deftones’ ‘My Own Summer’ comes on and you scream along to the lyrics. “Shove it, shove it, shove it!”
Not that it matters anymore. Two men have already seen your home in its state of disrepair, but it gives you something to focus on and decompress for a few hours, which is what you wanted.
You ponder texting Dave. Needing to vent to him or anyone since you don’t really have any friends that you talk to anymore. After some consideration, however, you change your mind. You don’t need to burden him with your bullshit. Least of all while he’s visiting his kids.
You settle on googling how to get rid of a hickey instead.
——
Max has never really dated anyone.
Not that he wants to date you.
He had tried to convince himself you were a one time thing. A quick and impermanent release of tension and little else. A means to put you in your place for publicly embarrassing him. So why can’t he get you out of his mind? Why have you been the first and last thing he’s thought about all day? He’s been fighting with his dick, trying not to think about yesterday, and failing miserably. He holed himself up in his office most of the work day.
It wasn’t just about the sex. It was more than that. But Max doesn’t date. He fucks and moves on. Simple as that.
But if that’s the case, why is he at The Beanery again, asking metal-face kid what your favorite drink is?
Vincent shrugs. “I dunno. She likes…cold drinks, I think?” he answers unhelpfully. Max isn’t a patient man. Or a nice one. But he’s trying, for you. He really is.
“You don’t know what she orders?” Max presses. His already paper thin patience is waning by the second.
“Not really,” Vincent responds. “Sorry.”
Max rubs his eyes with the pads of his fingers. He doesn’t want to show up at your door empty handed, although he isn’t really sure why it matters, or why he cares this much. He’s never wooed a woman in his entire life.
Flowers would be too romantic. He isn’t quite there yet. Not that he’ll ever be. But he needs to bring you…something, to make it less weird.
He’s fully aware he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.
“She likes the pumpkin fall latte. Iced,” another voice pipes up. A tall woman with brown hair that Max recognizes as the assistant manager steps out from behind a wall with a clipboard in her hands. Probably taking inventory, Max thinks. She doesn’t like Max—no one does, except Maury—but she wants to get him out of here ASAP.
“Thank you,” Max responds with a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says again, canting his brows in annoyance towards Vincent.
“I’ll take one. Large. And my usual.” He purses his lips, taking in a breath through his nose. “Please,” he adds, still trying his best, adding his signature crooked smile.
Sarah and Vincent don’t question why Max is asking after you or buying your favorite drink. They don’t care enough to know.
He runs the yellow tie around his neck through his fingers as he waits as patiently as he can manage, still struggling and failing to keep his dick on a leash. God, what the fuck is he doing?
——
God, what the fuck are YOU doing?
Max is at your door. And he brought you a gift.
He shoulders past you into your apartment without asking, causing your jaw to clench in frustration. He’s always doing that. Doing whatever the fuck he wants. It pisses you off to no end.
“You can’t just storm into my home, Max—“
“Here.” He hands you your drink which is partially melted due to the walk over, offering you his most flattering grin. He just wants to see you. He isn’t going to give up so easily.
You begrudgingly accept and take a heavy sip. It’s a nice reprieve from the rest of your day. You’ve been in a bad mood since the conversation with your mom, so sugar and caffeine are a welcome distraction right now.
You poured the time after you were done cleaning into your writing. Letting your anger guide your hand as you described the werewolf in your story tearing into Raye’s abdomen and slurping her entrails like meat spaghetti.
That isn’t where the story was going or what you had intended to write, but it helped to take some of the edge off. Until now, at least. You’ll change it later.
What’s more, you couldn’t find a good solution to your hickey problem, and you really hope they’ll be gone by tomorrow morning. You’re doing opening shift again. You wish Dave wouldn’t have left them in such an obvious, visible place.
Yeah, you really weren’t in the mood. Even if Max did somehow find out what your favorite drink is and bring it to you. What is it with men today, bringing you your favorite things…completely unprompted?
It’s baffling.
“Thanks, Max, for the drink,” you begin evenly. “I appreciate it, I do. But you need to go. I’ve had a weird day and—“
“What is that?” His eyes flash. He smirks, but it’s lacking mirth or humor. You don’t need to track their movement; you know exactly what he’s talking about.
“What do you mean?” you ask innocently, your hand involuntarily moving to your neck.
He grabs your arm to pull your hand away, stepping so close you can smell his cologne. His nostrils flare in anger. “Who did this to you?” he asks shortly, examining your neck.
The crass, cocky, self-important Max is gone. Now he’s just pissed.
“You did this to me yesterday, remember?” you retort.
“I didn’t do that. I did…this,” he explains, curving the back of his index finger against the vaguely incisor-shaped bruises on your neck. “But these? These aren’t my style.”
You step away from Max with a frown, taking another sip of your drink with your back turned. You aren’t beholden to Max. Or even Dave, for that matter.
“Did you fuck someone else?” Max accuses, stepping closer to you. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter, Max. It really doesn’t.”
“It does matter.” He places his hands on his hips and stares you down.
“No, it doesn’t, unless it’s you, it’s none of your business who I fuck. And I’m not fucking you again, so get out,” you snap back.
Max isn’t going down without a fight. His lips twist into a grin, and he moves into your space, crowding you against the small table by your kitchen which you mostly use as a catch-all. It rattles as a result of impact.
“It was your white knight at the coffee shop. Wasn’t it?” he presses. He plucks your drink from your hand and puts it down on the table.
“No.” Your lips tremble. You’re a bad liar.
He raises his eyebrows in victory. He has you exactly where he wants you.
He isn’t sure why he cares. Or why he’s feeling so possessive over you. He barely paid attention to you before yesterday.
He cages you in with his hands planted on either side of your body on the edge of the table, nose bent to yours, looking down into your eyes. Brow wrinkled in disapproval.
“How does he fuck?” Max asks. Eyes burning holes through you, dick twitching in his slacks.
“Better than you,” you spit.
“Ouch, baby.” Max grabs the underside of your jaw, angling your head back, aquiline nose pressed firmly against your cheek. “Guess we’ll have to make a comparison then, hmm?”
Without warning, Max picks you up effortlessly and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You squeak in surprise, your legs thrashing against his torso.
“Max, put me the fuck down!” you yell. He doesn’t listen, his hand firmly rooted in the small of your back until you reach the bed, dropping you face down on top of your bedding and pillows.
He mounts you from behind before you have a chance to wriggle away, his full weight pressed into you, erection dragging your ass. You can’t help it—you moan.
“How many times did he make you cum, sweetheart?”
“Max, that really isn’t any—“
“How many?” he growls into your ear, snapping his hips against the soreness of your ass.
“Five,” you admit in defeat. “Five. Can you let me up now?”
His lips pull back in snarl. “Mmm. I don’t know. It sounds like I have some catching up to do.”
You huff out a breath as he rises, flipping you onto your back and sliding your pants down your legs. You’d actually changed into something other than pajamas, for once, but you’re still devoid of undergarments. He eyes you hungrily, licking his lips.
“Did he fuck you rough or soft?” Max asks, undoing the cuff links on his jacket so he can shuck it off. He takes it off carefully, draping it over the back of your couch, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Rough,” you answer, swallowing, watching him undress.
Max nods, eyes darkening with lust. He crouches in front of you, hands spreading your thighs apart. “That’s right. Whores always like it rough, don’t they?” You can feel his breath ghosting your inner thigh.
Fresh arousal seeps out of you, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Max. He grins up at you, visage remaining hard. “Looking real tasty for me, sweetheart.”
“Max…” you attempt to protest, but there’s little point. You’re fucked up as they come because you’re enjoying being used like this. Just a series of holes for both of them. One man didn’t want you, and now two men want you, at the same time.
It sure as hell made you feel a lot better about the entire situation. Empowered, even.
Your core throbs with more arousal as you imagine how it would feel to take them simultaneously; Dave pressed to your back with Max beneath you. Or Max fucking into you from behind as Dave spears into your mouth.
“Mmm. Such a good little whore,” Max coos, dragging two fingers through your slick. “Let’s start with the first of five, shall we?”
His fingers find your opening and he presses them inside, languidly rolling them inward, shallow to start and then traversing deeper. His fingers are already drenched in you by the time the meat of his palm reaches your entrance.
“She’s weeping for me,” Max muses, twisting his fingers to stretch you out more. “Isn’t she?”
“Mmhmm,” you moan, your hips mirroring the movements of his hand. “You feel so good.”
“Damn right I do.”
He opens you up further as he bends to lick a wide, slow stripe up your seam, a precursory taste, pausing at your clit to slowly circle it with the ball of his tongue. You’re impervious to stop your back from coming off the bed at the shock of it, Max’s arm sliding up to bar across your stomach to keep you pressed against the mattress.
“Don’t move,” he growls.
His mouth dips lower, hawkish nose grazing your clit as he does and you moan, writhing beneath him. His arm clamps harder.
His mouth finds your entrance and he begins fucking into you with his tongue. Your fingers dip into his dark, neatly groomed hair, twisting it, just to have something to grip onto while he works his magic between your legs.
Max finds himself grinding against the edge of the bed for some relief. He’s having a hard time not resigning himself to just saying ‘fuck it’ and sinking into your wet heat.
His lips move back up, tongue parting your seam, circling your clit again as he uses his other hand to slip three fingers into you.
Max hums as his lips close around your clit, the sound vibrating your bundle of nerves. You moan. “Oh god…”
Your fingers tighten in his hair. A simple action but one that spurs him on nonetheless, curling his fingers to fuck into you, lips suckling at your clit. It’s a struggle for Max to keep you against the bed.
He’s barely just started and you’re already about to lose it.
Max smirks between your legs. He briefly removes his arm from your stomach to free himself from his pants for some much needed relief, his cock swollen and aching as it springs free. He pumps himself a couple of times before moving his arm back to your torso, pinning you in place once more.
Max has always been more of a self-serving lover than anything. He had enough skill to pull at least one orgasm out of his partners, two if he was feeling generous — but five? He would never admit it, or even acknowledge it, but he’s more than a little anxious that he’ll be able to get that many from you.
He’s trying his damndest, though, as he applies more pressure to your clit, increasing the speed and force of his fingers inside of you. He ruts against the bed again, wanting nothing more than to fuck you into next Tuesday, but he can’t do that. Not yet.
There’s just something about you that makes him want to try. There’s also something about envisioning your white knight making you scream that’s driving him even further into a downward spiral of lust and longing.
His fingers curve just right, hitting the cluster of nerves against your cervix just right, lips suctioning just right, and you’re crying out Max’s name, chest heaving as you bear down on his fingers and cum hard.
He pulls his lips away, giving you some relief, riding out your high with his fingers until you whine for him to slow down. He does, but he doesn’t stop entirely.
“That’s one,” he chuckles, “Only four more to go.”
“Hey Max, um—“ you start, grabbing at the arm still barred across your stomach. It doesn’t move. “Before we continue, can we, establish a… safe word?”
Max pauses, lifting his face from between your thighs, to look at you. Really look at you. You’re serious. And it tugs at something in him. Sparks his imagination as to what your limitations could be.
“What did you have in mind?” The face he gives you is ponderous even as his lips still glisten with your slick and cum.
You look around. You don’t want to use ‘foxglove’, feeling that would be a bit convoluted and debased. You glance at the window sill, your eyes landing on the dead, brittle lavender plant you should probably get around to throwing out some day.
“Lavender,” you say. Because it’s dead. And because it’s also a flower, like foxglove.
He nods in approval. “Lavender,” he agrees. “If you want me to stop, you say ‘lavender’.”
He doesn’t give you time to process the thought before his head is back between your legs, lips sealing firmly around your clit, sucking hard. You buck your hips reflexively and Max pushes you back down with an irritated grunt, fingers marring your hip.
You resort to moving your legs when you’re unable to move your abdomen, and he pulls away from your cunt with a low snarl of disapproval, pinning your legs beneath his hands.
“Stop fucking moving or I will tie your limbs to the bed,” he threatens. You kind of want him to. And he absolutely would if he had a means to do all of them.
He goes back to lapping at your folds like a man starved, pushing you firmly against the mattress with all his might when your hips reflexively buck upward again.
It isn’t long before you peak a second time, your arms twisting the bedding because it’s all Max will give you the freedom to move.
“Good girl,” he praises, riding out the ebbs of flows of your orgasm. Watching your face, memorizing it.
His dick pulses hard and he can’t waste another minute without you sheathing his cock, all the noises you’re emitting in reverence of him turning him into some kind of feral, unchecked monster. He stands, removing the rest of his attire, no longer worried about being neat, tossing them wherever they happen to land as he rids himself of the hinderance.
He climbs onto the bed next to you, turning you on your side, resuming the same position from yesterday, sans tie. If he weren’t so desperate to cum, to make you cum, he would have taken the extra time. He likes you restrained and maleable.
But his yearning for you has rendered him restless and lacking patience.
If you and Dave are an incendiary mix, you and Max are a noxious one: two elements coming together to create an all consuming cloud of poison that steals your breath and chokes the person you once were right out of you.
He pulls your leg over his hip and slots himself between your thighs, palming himself as he glides the head of his cock through your slippery folds, gathering your slick and then pushing in until he bottoms out in a single thrust.
You are sore. Raw. Used. And you like it.
“Fuck,” he spits against your ear. “So fucking tight.”
He encircles your throat with a broad hand, tilting your head back and against his shoulder as he gives a few precursory slow thrusts, bottoming out and holding every third or fourth one, hips shaking with effort.
His grip tightens. Your vision swims and your core pulses hungrily around his length.
“You ready to get fucked like the little whore you are?”
All you can do is nod, unable to find your voice.
Max jerks your head back harshly. “Words, sweetheart. Fucking words.”
“Yes, I want you to fuck me now, Max. Please.” Your voice is pathetically small.
“Good girl,” Max commends, crooking his arm in the bend of your knee, splaying you open for him as he begins to rail into you with unbridled vigor.
You keen as he angles your head back even further so he can watch your blissed out face. Your mouth is hanging open in the shape of an O, a silent scream etched into your features. To his surprise, he almost finds himself kissing you, barely able to reel himself in from doing so. This is why Max doesn’t do face to face stuff—he doesn’t want his partners getting the wrong idea about him.
But with you he almost breaks.
Each slam of his hips is ludicrously loud. For a few moments you think you actually forget how to breathe.
He lets go of your leg and moves his fingers to where he’s currently cleaving you down the middle, dancing around your clit, flicking with expert precision.
“Yes,” you pant. “God, yes.”
“That’s right, baby. Wanna hear you,” Max praises.
He bites into the rounded hill of your shoulder, incisors bearing down, branding you with yet another mark in the shape of his teeth. At least this one can be hidden.
His pace doesn’t falter. While Max doesn’t share Dave’s calculating focus, he more than makes up for it with his tenacity and grit.
Your hips jolt when he touches a particularly sensitive nerve, your moans filling the air.
“That’s it, sweetheart. C’mon baby. Gimme another.”
You reach your third climax, your muscles briefly seizing under the duress of Max’s spell.
“Good fucking girl. Goddamn little slut, cumming as she’s stuffed full of my cock.” He presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering in a deep, dark timbre, “Two more.”
You whimper and shut your eyes. Max’s fingers never hasten their onslaught. Tears ring your eyes, body overwrought from the sting of overstimulation, but the last thing you want is to throw in the towel now.
“What would your white knight do if he were here right now? Do you think he would watch me fuck you?”
Max can feel your throat constricting under his palm as you swallow. “I- I don’t know.”
You already feel another orgasm building on the tail end of the last.
“Did he fuck you here? In your bed?” he presses.
“Yes,” you whimper.
“Mmmm,” he hums lowly. His dick twitches. He wets his lips, eyes trained on your face as he watches you. “Which hole did he fuck, sweetheart?”
“Max, don’t—“ Despite the humiliation you feel, you’re close, so close, to your fourth.
His fingers squeeze your face, digging in to the soft meat of your cheeks. “Answer me,” he tuts, gnashing his teeth.
“All of them,” you answer earnestly, honestly. “All of them… oh, fuck.” Your walls bear down hard, tightening around Max, vision pulling white as you pant his name on your tongue.
“You let him fuck your ass?” he barks into your ear. “You’re even filthier than I thought, you. God. Damn. Whore. Shit—“
Max can’t hold back any longer, scrotum tightening and cock pulsing as he pulls himself from your throbbing snatch in the nick of time, pumping himself in his hand and painting your inner thighs with thick tendrils of his spend. The groan that vibrates the barrel of his chest as he cums is inhuman.
He buries his face in the apex of your neck and shoulder, inhaling your post-coital scent. Savoring it. “Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart.” The edge in his voice is gone. It almost sounds affectionate.
He moves away from you, propping himself up on an elbow to admire the way his semen slides down the skin of your thighs. He swipes two fingers through the thickest part of it, bringing it to your lips. You open without hesitation, accepting him as he pushes into your mouth with a quiet murmur.
“Good girl.”
He grabs your hips, rolling you onto your back as he once again slithers to the lower regions of your body, eyes locked on your face.
“What’re you—“
Max shoots you a slanted grin. “You said five.”
——
It’s late. Too late, after a long road trip, after the stress and drama of picking up his daughters because Carol had insisted he was behind even though he’s sure he wasn’t.
Especially when you’ve been the only thing on his mind all day.
It’s later in the evening before he has a chance to check on you, his daughters already tucked away safely in bed. He sits at the table of his suite’s kitchenette and opens his laptop, dick already painfully hard and straining against his pants at the mere notion of seeing you.
Three clicks and he opens the camera’s live feed. The apartment is dark, and you’re curled up in your bed, watching television. He can’t make out what show it is at this angle, but from what he can hear, it seems to be some kind of reality medical show about weight loss.
He watches you like that for some time, palming himself through his pants, wishing he were there curled up with you.
After a while, when you don’t move, he clicks on the camera’s recorded footage and starts scrolling through.
Though you’re out of shot most of the time, he listens as you have the conversation with your mother, wishing he could pull you through the screen and into his arms. He can’t hear the full conversation, but he gets the gist of it, and it sends a dagger of pain through his chest seeing you so worked up.
He’s glad you’re well removed from that life.
After the phone call, you clean for several hours, before sitting down to write. He scrolls through most of that footage, pausing occasionally if something in particular catches his eye.
He stops scrolling when he notices your head lift toward the door. You get up from your chair, padding barefoot to the door to peek through the peephole. You sigh, shaking your head, reluctantly opening it for whomever is on the other side.
He can only partially see what’s happening, but he can make out enough to instantly recognize the man that steps inside.
Dave’s eyes grow a shade darker and his hand is in his pants before he even realizes what he’s doing.
He fast forwards to where Max already has you on the bed. By all accounts, Dave should be jealous. It doesn’t make sense that he isn’t, considering what Carol did. Considering that he nearly killed the man she was sleeping with with his own bare fists.
Given Dave’s skills and proclivity for killing, the man was lucky he didn’t.
But for some reason, with you, things are different. Everything with you is different.
Dave puts in his headphones as he continues to watch, letting out a quiet moan when Max’s face dips between your legs. The face you make is nothing short of euphoric.
He continues to stroke himself, precum leaking onto his wrist as he watches events unfold right in front of him.
He picks up his phone, thumbing the screen to get to your messages, opening it to type two words and hitting send.
Dave: Hey, you.
Your phone lights up a minute later.
—
Taglist: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @annieispunk @awilderi @chronically-ghosted @onmysluttyknees @oberynslady @kellybelly1978 @sarap-77 @tb-gerschutz @daddy-dins-girl @alwaysmicado @morallyinept @guelyury @heavennumber2 @xxjigglynatxx @yippeeki-meow-motherfoster-blog
If I forgot anyone, please let me know! 🙂
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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- Season 2, Episode 22 (Last Episode of the Season). "I Can't Get Started" Part 1
This episode may just be the ultimate game of memory roulette, because I remember nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. except these two things:
I am told this episode involves a Lorelai-Crusty hookup and I have no recollection of that whatsoever. The mind has a way of bleaching itself sometimes. Can't wait to be retraumatized!
The episode begins with Sookie playing wedding music choices for her coworkers and everyone falls asleep listening to the depressing songs she picked. Leave my girl Sookie and her emo music alone.
She lives in Stars Hollow, of course she can relate to songs about pain, depression and misery.
Emily the Strange, seen on Rory's cast.
My conflicting emotions as I think about how Season 3 brings Jess to the forefront (that's good) but he rarely knows a moment's peace (that's bad) and in the blink of an eye we lose him to the California Wormhole (that's bad) but it also temporarily sidelines Dean (that's good) but it brings Crusty back (that's bad) but there's the debut of Dave Rygalski (that's good) but in the blink of an eye we also lose Dave Rygalski to the California Wormhole (that's bad) then we meet Alex who is cool and also hot (that's good) but then he disappears forever (wormhole?) and Max briefly returns from the California Wormhole (meh?)
When Michel complains about the drudgery of wedding preparations, Lorelai reminds him she's in Sookie's wedding party so he has to oversee the entire wedding by himself, which is something he's never done before.
Excuse me? Why don't you hire some more staff Lorelai, you fucking cheapskate. (We also learn later on that Sookie's catering her own wedding. WHAT? I know Sookie is a perfectionist when it comes to food but that's fucking bonkers).
Rory offers to brainstorm with Lane to come up with wedding songs for Sookie and she agrees to let them do it because letting teenagers pick the music for the most important day of your life is a smart idea. This is where I realized I have no idea what kind of music Rory is actually into except that she has expressed she doesn't like the pop music/boybands of the day, which is fine. I just hope Rory wasn't one of those super annoying kids in school who were always coming up to me saying things like "You know, the Backstreet Boys don't play their own instruments." I was well aware. Anyway, Lane was definitely one of those types, as we see it happen on the show frequently, but as for Rory, that one is maybe up for debate.
Sookie asks Lorelai if she wants to invite Emily and Richard to the wedding. Uhh, may I ask why? Just 5 episodes ago, Emily was meddling in the wedding planning and blew up Sookie's budget and Lorelai had to intervene so she wouldn't go bankrupt. That's about the extent of any significant interaction between the Gilmore Grands and Sookie. After that mess, why would Sookie want her there?
Sookie's all "Ah, that ol "almost bankrupted me" thing. She was so thoughtful to help me with the planning! Even though it was nothing more than a passive aggressive scheme to stick it to you for never getting married. She made me realize I love the color pink!" And then she giggles away the deep seated pain that anyone so relentlessly cheerful and forgiving has to be holding deep inside.
Something historic just happened: I watched the Intro, instead of skipping it, which is something I haven't done in years. Let it be known I have nothing against the intro nor the song, and they're very nice and heartwarming, but I'm just not an intro girl. But I've been pretty down in the dumps and the theme song is like a warm cup of cocoa.
It might behoove me to watch the opening credits once in a while so I know when to expect Dean, Crusty and other creatures from the deep.
More fine work from the Gilmore Girls fake food designer. Looks delish. She's still wearing that fucking quarter on a string, god damn.
Rory is pestering Butthead to trade his pancakes for her fruit and egg platter.
You know, sometimes I start writing a joke, then realize it was funny, but it didn't make any sense and I have to scrap it, which makes me sad. Sometimes I don't even notice it after I've already posted and have to do a quick deletion (it just happened with LGD, in fact). Today, you're in for a treat because I'm going to give you one of my bloopers.
Rory is incessantly asking Dean for his opinion on the pancakes. I decided she had poisoned them and she was monitoring his reactions, like when his breathing would start to become labored, or if he started to foam at the mouth, or if he would say something like that "huh, these pancakes taste kinda metallic." and then he would keel over.
But then I remember they are at Luke's and she didn't cook the pancakes. But she could have sprinkled some rat poison on top of it when he had his back turned. I'm 100% convinced Lindsay had tried unsuccessfully to poison his meatloaf.
Oh no, they traded breakfasts. Eat AROUND the poison sprinkles, Rory.
Rory and Buttzilla are observing someone who is repeatedly walking back and forth in front of the diner without coming in. *Sniffs the air* I smell unhealthy boundaries. It must be Lorelai.
I actually forgot that Luke and Lorelai were still "fighting". In fact, I just realized there was no Luke whatsoever in the previous episode. Okay, okay! I plum forgot about Luke completely! Anyway, can we please resolve this nonsense before season 3? How is Lorelai hooking up with Crusty going to end this stalemate?
Ya'll, she really blurted out "Dean don't leave me", not "Don't leave me, guys" or "Rory don't leave me." I CAN’T! I'm dying!
Poor Rory, shows where she really ranks on the list of her mother's priorities.
Anyways, sucks to suck Lorelai, good luck with solving this fucking mess completely of your own making.
lolbye
That's a wild under-exaggeration for how you acted after that car crash. Just wild.
There is no quicker way to get Lorelai’s goat than to act Pleasant Neutral towards her and not entertain her quirkiness! it is aggravating her to no end that Luke isn’t entertaining her stupid doughnut jokes! Hahahahaha! He isn’t groveling at her feet over her half baked fake bullshit apologies either. Sucks to suck Lore! Luke being so indifferent to Lorelai's bullshit is glorious, no one has ever deserved it more.
Meanwhile, Paris is running for student council president. Her campaign promises include mandatory recycling, clearly gendered bathrooms and gluten free options in the cafeteria (hey, as long as Rory can still order her favorite Chilton lunch, The Prison Special, two slices of white bread with nothing in the middle).
After Madeline and Louise poll 150 students in the span of about 1 minute, the results are in: While the People think she would make a competent politican, nobody actually likes her.
So she strong arms a very reluctant Rory into becoming her running mate. Paris feels Rory's nice girl image will soften her own. She puts the fear of God into Rory that she will end up going to Connecticut State instead of Harvard if she doesn't take this opportunity to pad her college resume with school politics. I mean, she's not wrong. Rory is still pitifully lacking in extra cirricular activities. Until they showed Rory writing in the audience, I had completely forgotten she was already on the school newspaper because it hasn't been mentioned in ages. And now I just remembered that horrid school newspaper storyline in s3 is approaching. The one with the redheaded mean girl, Francie. Ugh! S3 is going to be such a rollercoaster.
Wait, isn't Connecticut State where Dean was considering going to school? Heheh.
Out of context Gilmore Girls.
Hmmm.
You know who else AmyShermanPalladino said this about?
AmyShermanPalladino wrote Paris to adore Rory as much she adores Milo, I'm just saying.
Rory is getting her cast off.
Emily Strange again...
SECURITY!!!!
No, but what kind of medical office is this where anyone can just barge in to a child’s appointment and be like "it's okay I'm the Dad" and the Dr is like “sure I believe you have a seat”. Not like Crusty is ever around that the doctor would recognize him.
He drove down all the way from Boston to watch Rory have her cast cut off but can't be present for anything important? Alright. Anything to get into Lore’s pants I guess.
Yeah.
Love is in the air at their child’s medical appointment.
Their nauseating attraction clouded their minds enough that they both resisted the urge to get in one last jab about Jess being the cause of Rory's injury. Miraculous.
Hur hur hur! You're so funny! Drink drain cleaner.
Honestly? They deserve each other.
R: “If I become vice president, I'll have to spend my summer at some junior leadership program in Washington."
Oh, you would HATE That.
#gilmore girls#gilmore girls season 2#season 2 finish line#thank fuck#rory gilmore#crusty#buttzilla#paris geller#geller + gilmore#PariMore#luke danes#I Cant Get Started#Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls
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No. 1 - G1, The Steading of the Hill Giant Chief (July 1978)
Author(s): Gary Gygax
Artist(s): Erol Otus, Dave C. Sutherland III (cover), David A. Trampier
Level range: Average of 9, preferably 5+ players
Theme: Standard Swords and Sorcery
Major re-releases: G1-3 Against the Giants, GDQ1-7 Queen of the Spiders, Against the Giants: The Liberation of Geoff, Dungeon #197, Tales from the Yawning Portal
I'm not sure if G1-G3 are the most remastered adventures of all time, but it's gotta be competitive. I think Tomb of Horrors might have it beat, but I haven't counted. The 4e conversion [the Dungeon #197 one] is really weird in particular because…4e feels like the edition least interested in the legacy of DND? It was boldly doing its own thing. A good quality, actually.
Anyway, it's time to slag off* on a beloved adventure. Note, I am using the earliest copy of G1 I can find, which is from waaaay later when D3 was complete. I apologize.
*And by slag off, I mean "be critical of at all". In practice, this module is actually showing some unusual acumen compared to its contemporaries.
EDIT: I forgot to mention a rather important thing when this was made live -- note the title there! We are officially in ADND land now, so put away your little brown booklets and switch over to the fuck-off awesome player's handbook with the iconic Moloch statue!
Somehow I had gotten my whole life at this point never really…understanding what this structure was supposed to look like? It looks like this.
I honestly think exterior shots of dungeons are critically underrated. Handouts are amazing and being able to flash the back cover art to safely show the party "like this" is actually great, I deeply wish that….any? of the previous modules had done that? I think the only one that did was Tsojconth. Weirdly, the interior drawing is very subtly different. Look at how the logs face:
Not a huge deal but, a kind of weird inconsistency that top one looks like a stockade and the bottom one looks like a log cabin. Side note, we know that the long dimension of this is using 210 feet tall logs, which is to say, the size of an average redwood. These are some big fuck-off trees -- which could be a very interesting detail about the local area.
Now the setup is pretty simple. You were hired to go beat up the giants because they've been raiding the local humans, figure out why they're raiding, and comeback posthaste. The locals have kitted you out with horses, guides, maps, et c -- but no compensation, they have simply omitted a finder's fee (cheap bastards). Also, if you fail, they'll execute you. With friends like these, who needs Giants?
Gary starts with some mild railroading (you accepted the job already, you are already kitted out, you already walked to a nearby cave, you waited til dusk to approach, you notice two guards are missing, and the cave is guaranteed to be moderately hidden. Sure, whatever, I'm going to ignore that if I run this tho. Gary notifies us of a few critical details:
Don't run this stock, that's immoral
Any surviving giants will flee to G2 if they have the opportunity (which, kind of inherently punishes clever play that avoids combat?)
There is a 2% chance per round that the wooden structure will be lit on fire due to chronic rain (why is this a dice roll??)
If you will permit me a tangent, player arson is truly the bane of interesting scenarios everywhere. Whenever a player wonders, "why are all the GM's dungeons underground or in stonework buildings?", it's because doing anything else invites arson as the default and best answer to all problems. Magic items are fireproof and most metal items will not get hot enough to be destroyed, so very often the best solution is to burn the place to the ground and loot it the next day. So, yeah. No wood buildings. Gary's fix is to have all the giants flee into the basement, then waste a week of the PC's time for daring to use arson. Kind of sucks!
Tangent complete.
Here's some random interesting bits:
Gary explicitly states that you can pass yourself off as hill giant kids, which is extremely funny. Minus the implicit child murder.
Naturally there are giant moms doing giant housemaid shit in several rooms. Presumably they have giant curlers too.
The secret door is, literally just a doorway covered by a pelt. I have to hand it to them, that'd trip up most players in 2024 AND make them feel stupid for not figuring it out!
The big reveal that Eclavdra the Drow is secretly behind it all is so lightly teased that it feels downright tasteful.
A giant that uses a ballista as a crossbow (based) and spears for arrows (also based) -- between the prevalence of lightning spears and greatarrows, one starts to think of a certain famous video game. Genuinely I think it'd be a fun exercise one day, for someone who is more knowledgeable than me about Japanese fantasy roleplaying culture, to talk about how anglophone fantasy works made their way into Japan and were interpreted.
One of the cloud giants has hidden a sentient giant slaying sword that speaks all the giant languages, it feels like there's a hell of a story going on there that is only alluded to!
To my knowledge, this is the first official depiction of an orc in DND? Which implies that Gary is team pig-orcs, which is cool. Frankly, I love porcine orcs, or even better just pigfolk in general, they're great.
I think it is actually a rather bold early stance for Gary to hold that, even here in 1978, Chaotic aligned creatures are not automatically friends. Granted, that's how it is in Elric, so it's not THAT bold, but clearly everyone else missed the memo. The orcs are willing to side with you at least in the short-run, and in our previous modules it was very rare to have groups of chaotic-aligned creatures fighting one another. It was always just personal beefs. In fact, the overall theme of G1 so far is that despite the boxy-ass dungeon design, there's already a command of naturalism that even modern dungeons really struggle with. Factionalism truly is the gift that keeps on giving for the GM!
So the big reveal internally to G1 (just think of that -- a reveal internally to G1, and externally to the GDQ supermodule -- we're already getting pacing!) is that the orc slaves have rebelled. And -- hey -- good for them. There's also a kind of…built-in companion refill system going on here? So in oldish DND the way it works is, the expectation is the party is not just 5 guys with swords. You've got companions to help fight, and you've got hirelings to do other stuff (test suspected traps, if you're evil). And you can only hire so many of these guys from town, but attrition is going to happen. So the modules simply provides, automatic replacements should you negotiate worth a quarter of a shit. A dwarf slave here, an orc slave there. Maybe a giant dissenter if you're really clever. One of the potential "rewards" you can get is more dudes to throw at problems.
More interesting bits
There is, what I can only really call an abortive idea going on here where there's a scary temple in the basement? But no one worships there and no information is provided. It is merely a fucked up altar. I think I vaguely recall that it's retconned Tharizdun in one of the remakes? They always retcon things to be Tharizdun. Busy man, Tharzy.
Gary, Gary no. Stop it. Stop this 78 guys bullshit. I thought we had established that giant rooms of giant clumps of guys was bad. I know you have terminal Napoleonics brain but stop.
Wait, Steading is a noun? I always thought it was a verb. Yknow, like "Steading those hill giants", taking 'em down a notch. Apparently, a Steading is a small farm -- same etymology as Homestead. I guess mark that as our first Gygaxism?
Our second Gygaxism is gill, which is "a quarter pint of an alcoholic drink", which is to say a few mouthfuls
Always end your adventures with weird, ominous non-diegetic text. On the flip-side, absolutely do not do what the adventure does, and end on a teleporter that takes you to the next dungeon. That is the worst option.
Anyway, that's the whole Hill Giant situation. Honestly, it's better than I remembered, but in proud module tradition up to this point it gets weirdly filler-y in the basement. There's just something about basements that makes dungeon designers stop giving a shit, I swear. I do need to give the man his due, even though he was a shitass person: Gygax wrote an 11 page module that is of noticeably higher killer-to-filler ratio than any of his contemporaries. G1 is better than any of its predecessors, pound for pound. It is way, way shorter which is I suppose a plus to me and a minus to others, but -- there is a clear internal logic to this place that is tragically missing from (say) The Dwarven Glory. And that internal logic is the beginning of good adventure design. Anyway, we have two fun tidbits to discuss before we end for the day.
First up, we have an of-the-time account of events in Dragon #19! It turns out that in Origins '78 they played G1-G3's prototype. The account is of the winners (mostly West Virginians, a few Michiganders), who used their magic extremely liberally to hide what they were doing as well as to scout. They did opt to light the place on fire, good for them! If you want to check this out, it's on page 3. I will mention G2 and G3 here as relevant later.
Second up, there's a weird interquel hiding in Dungeon #198! Hanging out as an informal G1.5 is "The Warrens of the Stone Giant Thane!" I will not review it in full because my understanding of 4e is, basically just skimming the PHB and reading the DMG, but essentially the Stone Giants are hypothetically aloof and not particularly loyal to their Fire Giant superiors, but someone gave them The Rock That Makes You Crazy and so now they are. Smash the rock!
Man, map design in the 4e era was so fucking bad. It looks fine, but like, this is four circles. And downstairs is, of course, cave as far as the eye can see. Aren't stone giants supposed to be skilled carvers? Anyway, If you feel like G2 would be too big of a jump mechanically compared to G1, this exists. I'm sure you could use it if you liked, and certainly there is a Genre of Grognard who would be kinda tickled at the thought of finding "lost content" for el classico GDQ.
Next week, we cover G2, which was also in July. So was G3! They're triplets!
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Some plot ideas I have for Gold Pilot (The Davesolkat Time Loop Rebellion AU):
The MAGE ~ATH code, aka, the thing that causes the time loop, can send either someone's mind or a physical item to the next iteration. At the start of the fic, it's about the 21th Loop
Sollux on Loop #1 got helmed. That's the loop were Karkat was executed a la Sufferer.
It is unclear how long it took Sollux #1 to develop the code to do that, could be days, could be centuries, but he ends up sending his conscience back in time for Loops 2 and 3. It. Was not nice.
So now he just sends this grub database instead! It keeps all the information without the ugly memories, yay
Young Sollux gets it everytime at age 13 and he updates and works on it through his life until he inevitably fails, gets helmed, and has to send the file back to himself, cue: starting the loop again.
A huge part of each iteration is "how do ii keep my friiend2 from kiilliing eachother help" because he's discovered that he needs ALL of them to maybe successfully save Karkat and the rebellion.
How does Sollux achieve this? Simple, by Sim Date mechanics. Sollux basically has a walkthrough on what to do to become super good friends (or more? Lmao) with basically everyone
This accidentally turns Sollux into the conciliatory quadrant town two-wheel device every. Goddamn time.
It's mainly because while he's like that with everyone he doesn't really ACTUALLY have pale feelings for any of them, so yeah, he's developed a reputation as a heartbreaker (diamond breaker?) And a player. Which he isn't! But yeah, everyone thinks he is.
In Time Loop #21, when Dave starts working on his ship with Sollux, this information is told to him my multiple people like "yeah Sol is basically a huge slut, watch out and don't develop feelings"
Somehow the fact that that's only for CONCILIATORY quadrants doesn't click on his human head so yeah, he just assume his guy Captor has. Slept with everyone in his friend group, yeah
When Captor starts "flirting" with Dave (he's not, he's genuinely just like that chill lmao) Dave just goes "aight looks like he wants to sleep with me too"
It takes Dave about a couple of months of basically living with him on a ship to finally say "you know what? Screw it, I'll do it, let's sleep together"
And Sollux, who is NOT that kind of guy actually just says "okay? My hot human captain who'2 s/2ort of my best friiend riight now want2 to have 2ex wiith me? 2hould ii go for iit?"
A week later, Sollux decides to do it because why not? Yeah he's got the most embarrassing GENUINE pale crush on Dave, but he doesn't do quadrants because he's a Human so yeah, fuck it, let's do this instead
Captor is a bit of a freak. Mainly in the "ii kind of always have feeliing2 for people in TWO quadrant2 regardle22 of what ii do, 2o yeah, that'2 also why ii don't do quadrants, ii'm genuinely not wiired like the re2t of y'all, iim weiird"
Incidentally, that's why he worked sooo well with Karkat, but Sollux fucked that up so yeah, might as well derive some sort of happiness from being Dave's fwb
It's kind of a Time Loop Rule that Sollux set for himself that he has to stay away from Karkat. You know, so he can stay objective and SAVE him!
Karkat always inevitably ends up with Dave Strider in most iterations anyway, they're sort of soulmates
Sollux is meant to stay alone and doomed
When Dave learns about all of this he's all like "what the FUCK captor how did you hide all of this from me, also fuck you man, fate doesn't exist and plays no parts on the actions of this guy"
They kiss and make up, they're kind of dating now? They're both cowards and will not. Ever ask the other one out because that's cringe.
Dave STILL is in love with Karkat though, so yeah, he helps Sollux on his quest to save their favorite person alive literally (Karkat protection squad amirite)
It becomes a problem because Karkat is literally the most wanted guy in the entire fucking empire
"can you maybe not try to dismantle the empire for a moment and let us keep you safe?" "NO."
Dave says "you know what? Fuck it we're his new bodyguards, between my amazing ninja skills and your insane psionics nothing could get through to hurt him, right?"
Karkat is not happy about it because he still sort of hates Captor (Dave helped them make up but. It's still an issue that Sollux, you know, slept with him and fucked off to not be seen in like, an entire fucking sweep)
Karkat is trying to do his rebellion leader thing but he has to deal with this two idiots who won't just admit they're dating lmao
I'm not certain how the three of them finally get together but it's probably because Karkat. Had enough of these shenanigans.
#that's all for tonight thanks for coming to my ted talk#the fic is still on the development stages so if anyone's got more ideas lmk#dave strider#davesolkat#homestuck#karkat vantas#sollux captor#solkat#davekat#davesol#alec writes#gold pilot au
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Spoilers for Cocaine bear :
-first of all this movie is funny, I didn't expect that
-Henry is my favorite, that kid was amazing
-I like how they didn't glamourise or make it seem nostalgic towards the 80s
-like the movie is set in the 80s but it's not like "oh the 80s were so much cooler", it's just "yeah it's the 80s and thats it"
-Daveed and Eddie are a good dealer bad dealer duo and I LOVE THEM
-their scenes where the funniest
-also the Olaf guy was called Kristoffer at one point like what? Is your name like the snowman or the raindeeer my guy
-also he survived???
-how????
P.S. turns out he died, I mistook his body for his girlfriends body
-"My name is Henry and I'm so fucking tired!!!"
-Dee Dee is so smart making a paint trail like that💖
- thank god Rossette (the white long haird dog) survived thank god
-but she ate Daveeds fingers, like Jesus first his shoes, then his jersey and now his fingers
-like give this man a break!!
-the bear cubs are drug addicts too😭
-also fuck Syd for kicking them 3 separet times(rip Ray Loitta but your character was a bad guy and a bad father)
-also your son looks kind of Hot when he's sad😏
-she (Cocaine Bear) must have gotten addicted to it over the years I doubt that this is her first rodeo
-"How do you know it's a girl?" "Cuz her vagina is on my ear"
-She is so Cok-ette💖
-also the blonde twink lives? and he took the last of the cocaine? To New York???
-not to mention Officer Reba probsbly lied about the whole thing
-i meanthe crime scene/s are a mess, nobody whould be quastioning you after that shit...
-and the fact that Sari, Dee Dee and Henry whent home by foot/bike is just...wow...
-and now in in head I'm making the sequel for this movie
-set a year later, the Colombian mafia (Narcos/Narcos Mexico) go to Tennese to kill the bear, but they only kill mama bear(sorry) and are hunted down by the cocaed up cubs that kill them one by one...
-also Richard Ramirez (Ahs 1984) is here too, cuz cocaine and why the fuck not???
-this will be my Gorbabachow
-Goncharov?
-anyway go watch Cocaine bear you will be gaving a great time!
#slasher community#slasher memes#cocaine bear 2023#cocaine bear#my post#DeeDee cocaine bear#sari cocaine bear#ranger liz cocaine bear#officer reba cocaine bear#goncharov#goncharev#narcos#narcos mexico#ahs 1984#ahs richard ramirez
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Day 3 of reading homestuck wahoo
Casually defiles tomb
Oh goodness, Grandma clown ghost returns
MORE MUSIC HELL YEAH
Wow Nanna you sure are good at expositing
Yeah shadow dude go learn some etiquette, if the boy does not want cookies he shan't have cookies smh
I still barely know who GG is but they seem either sweet or weird as hell
Yeah Dave, I also wonder why it's hot, who could possibly know
Cal teleported I say we burn him
I do not appreciate the puppet ass it's too much ass not gET rid of it
NOT THE PIANO ROSE PLEASE SPARE IT
I have to know if there's an actual scoreboard for this green slime pogo ride lmao
NOT THE PIANO NOOOOO
Is life truly worth living if you don't have a piano in your place of residence, be it grand, upright, electric, or otherwise? I think not.
A broken piano IS the end of the world, Rose!
It's okay Nannaquin, I would eat your cookies oh woah maybe I wouldn't sorry Nanna I won't touch them I don't wanna get blasted
Aww, shadow dude learned his manners
Rose darling I beg of you to stop making holes in the house
Hell yeah baby eat those books
Proboscalypse
I'm gonna guess that 02-49-13 is either completely useless like John thinks or is gonna end up being important
Is that a very large clown
I appreciate Cal even less than the clowns and the puppet ass and the ghostbusters desktop combined he is truly awful
I want to ask if the dog named Rowlf in Dave's brother's comic is a reference to rowf of plague dogs/the lapine language of watership down but I'm scared of the answer and also don't think it goes that deep and oh hey a saw trap
Why oh why does the puppet have blood
THE BROTHER
I'm imagining these puppets falling onto Dave to the tune of "Lacrimosa"
Oh my gosh spring ghost hammer
Why hello there Toby Fox, a pleasure to see you here
So you see, I've gone over my 200 page daily quota I've set for myself to ensure I don't end up taking months to read this, but now I want to keep reading >:/ hmmm
Keep reading it is
Uh oh farewell generator and farewell Rose
Look the thing warned me to be prepared for major character death so I'm trying not to get too attached even though I know I will anyway
BIG CLOWN BOSS BATTLE
CRUDE OGRES I see
Goddammit Dave
Double psyche?
Hello Wayward Vagabond!
URANIUM FUCK YEAH! You know how many calories are in that much uranium? A LOT
FUCK YES CAL HATH BEEN RIPPED IN TWAINE GOOD RIDDANCE
How much time do we spend with the vagabond I am eager to watch John fight things
I recognize the shape on that pumpkin from years of homestuck fanart that I've scrolled past without paying any mind its the horned dude(s?) isn't it
Serenity the firefly is the best character no I don't take criticism
Oh THAT kind of ascend
Are those squirtle glasses
Oh my gosh that's the end of act 2
I'm not gonna lie, I really like this. I thought I wasn't going to but I'm enjoying myself very much :)
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EP. 6 RECAP
spoilers under cut read on if you want to hear my unhinged thoughts:
1. THE HISTORY OF THE GALAXY PARTS 1, 2, and 3?????? (“with 1 being the best part”) I’m sorry is this foreshadowing to the movie that we’re getting that tells the story of the beginning of the Jedi??? freaking out
2. I am so sad about Ray Stevenson. The world was deprived of a true talent and a fascinating character and the story he won’t get the chance to tell 😭 a loss of a talented human and a great storyteller.
“What I seek is the beginning” WHAT THE FUCK I’m so invested in this, thank god for Dave Filoni and his commitment to the well-planned, longform story (yes I’m subtweeting the sequel trilogy)
“Perhaps they flee a power greater than their own” LIKE WHAT OMG BAYLAN STOP
3. These nightsisters are a bit too “Dune” for my taste. I mean I recognize that Star Wars has copied Dune from the very first movie and also they are super cool but did they have to talk with that echo and be called “Great Mother”? it’s a little on the nose lol
4. THRAWN. THRAWN’s SHIP. The fucking KINTSUGI STORMTROOPERS OMGOMGOMG the QUALITY of the storytelling, the characterization, OMG
I’m sooooo glad they kept Lars Mikkelsen, Thrawn wouldn’t be Thrawn without that voice. and the Kintsugi is so in character for him, his appreciation for art, I love it so much.
5. ALSO, Enoch in the Bible DOESN’T DIE? (he is taken to Heaven and escapes death) so I feel like there has to be something significant about that. And the stormtroopers are clearly loading some kind of COFFINS onto the ship? Resurrection shit??? The Book of Enoch, as far as I know, is an apocryphal text—is that a signifier that whatever takes place in this other galaxy is sort of apocryphal compared to the original Skywalker saga? And, lastly, the book of Enoch is an APOCALYPTIC text—AHHHH what does it all mean, I’m so goddamn curious (this shit is back to the symbolic, Aristotelean tragedy Star Wars that I LOVE)
6. Baylan saying Ezra “comes from a breed of Jedi trained in the wild”
and Shin responding, “like me? 🥺” 😭😭😭😭
7. EZRA IS HERE EZRA IS LIFE EZRA IS EVERYTHING (also why is he kind of fuckinf hot? LOL fuck me honestly) did not have a crush on Ezra Bridger on my 2023 bingo card but here we are
I’m so happy he’s back and I feel like for the sake of the story Thrawn can’t make it back to the original galaxy, but if that’s the case can’t I please get a ghost crew reunion in some capacity 😭 I don’t know how this would make sense. but I have a feeling this is the start of a bigger story (and I wish Baylan could be a part of it 😭😭😭)
bonus I love the space turtles that look like little old men travelers this episode was so FULL of greatness wow. I watched this last week and just now rewatched it so get ready for my thoughts on the new ep TONIGHT if you read this whole thing you deserve a treat and a nap
#star wars#ahsoka#ahsoka spoilers#ezra bridger#sabine wren#thrawn#baylan skoll#shin hati#star wars rebels#sw rebels#sw ahsoka
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Brief Book Reviews #8
It's been a hot minute and I'm sorry. IRL stuff happened for most of the year and I've only just gotten back to reading again- I'm glad I have, though.
#1: Laura Thalassa, Pestilence (The Four Horsemen, Book 1)
Dark romance with a Horseman of the Apocalypse. It's about as fucked up as it sounds, and I love it.
The story sets the scene for post-apocalyptic Earth: the Horsemen rode out in all four directions some years before the story begins, and with their arrival, all electronics stopped working, save for the lucky few who had backup generators I guess. Then, five years after they vanish, Pestilence shows up, riding across North America to spread a plague. Our protagonist and narrator, Sara Burns, is the unlucky firefighter who tries to shoot him off his horse- she succeeded, for a bit, but sadly this Horseman is immortal and she becomes his prisoner. It's a slow burn, Stockholm syndrome, enemies-to-lovers kind of deal, and god dammit, I love it. There's a few sex scenes and graphic depictions of the dying (including children), so, heads up if you're thinking of getting this book.
...and I might want to play Darksiders again because of this lol.
#2, S.A. Chakraborty, City of Brass
...Well that was a rollercoaster from start to fucking finish. And there's two more books in this series. Holy shit.
I love the world building and political intrigue, and above all, I love how down to earth Nahri is. The bond between her and Dara is believable (and heartbreaking, in later chapters). Ali, though- poor kid can't catch a break. I kinda wish he'd grow a spine, but I don't blame him- his father's a right bastard, honestly. I hope the Qahtanis get found out before the series is over, and that they get what they deserve. I honestly can't say too much without spoiling anything, but as awful as Nahri's situation is, I am left hiking up my standards again after Dara being very ready to kill anything and everything for her. *sigh.*
#3: Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb trilogy, Book 1)
This book was a fucken trip- and I had a couple of friends get very excited over me reading it. I can understand why, this was a fun read. Like a mix of dark fantasy meets Dead Space. Muir's done a good job of it. Sure, "Lesbian Necromancers IN SPAAAAAAAACE" is a good way to market it, but damn. The murder mystery was a nice touch. Gideon being a disaster lesbian is funny, and I kept hearing Taliesin Jaffe as Percy de Rolo whenever Palamedes showed up. Palamedes my beloved. Dulcinea didn't deserve you. ;_;
Tiktok was enlightening when it came to this series, too- apparently the author pulled the whole thing from their own Homestuck fanfic, and the parallels are very obvious. Then again, I'm still Homestuck'd after all these years, I don't have a leg to stand on here. Gideon is quite obviously Dave, Harrow is obviously supposed to be Karkat, and you can tell if you've been in sharpie bath hell for several years. It's done quite well, though. Can't wait to read the next one. Not sure what I'm gonna read in the meantime, though...
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First of all for having Meulin as chubby in headcanons that is so very true she just is I love her
And more characters if you want to do even more since now I know that you know Hetalia as well as Homestuck
So first HS grouping: Dualscar, Doc Stratch, Mindfang, Alpha Rose, Alpha Dave, and Davepeta
Now APH: Austria, Seychelles, Russia, and 2P!England
Babe you're so kind I will die for you at this point
Anyways, while I'm having a solkat brainrot, mixed with chubby Meulin visions and while doing my homeworks, here's the Who Hot thingy:
Dualscar: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
I KNOW people interpret him completely differently from me, but, to me, he's just Cronus-with-bitches. Would I ever fuck Cronus!? Yes, of course, but I still have standards! (←This is me in denial)
Doc scratch and Mindfang: already did :3
Alpha Rose: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
My woman punched nazis in the face *moans*
Alpha Dave: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
My man punched nazis AND did movies *double moans*
Davepetasprite^2: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
Definitely would be my friend, other than that? I don't think so. They're cool, they're funny, but I don't think about them enough lol.
Austria: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
Why does he have a stick up his butt?(I'm REALLY hoping this figure of speech exists in eglish too; otherwise, it would make this sentence x100 funnier) He's too strict, very unsexy of him.
Seychelles: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
Have you even SEEN HER!? Definitely friends. Something else? I'm not sure. I'd pass a lot of times with her anyways.
Russia: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
So like... I DID have a big crush on him when I was younger. I'm traumatized by my father finding all my old drawings of him and asking me "who's this?" and I was SWEATING!
Would I let him fuck me? No, I like life, I prefer staying alive, thank you. Would I date him without touching too much cuz I'm fragile and I like my bones when they're intact? Yes, absolutely.
2p!England: Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
We like crazy men in this house.
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7x15. Every time I have a big break between episodes, it hits twice as hard.
I don't think Spencer ever reacted like this to anything before? Lmao.
A pretty boy, indeed. Drawing him must be so fun.
There's something about this shot with the little girl's voice-over that's been murdered.
I don't think Dave ever sits on the table, but Aaron sure does (and often). I wonder what kind of conclusion I can make from this and make it into my writing. :) God, I missed those two. After having a dream about Aaron last night it's so nice to actually watch him and Dave moving and talking and just existing. I love them so much, my heart is always full for them.
@hogwartstoalexandria i think i get it now why you wrote that smut of yours. :) Immediately thought of it. Niiice.
<3. His hair keeps getting greyer and greyer, and I think he lot some weight (not that it's right or wrong, just an observation), and I just have so many feelings.
I often wonder why, with all of his neatness and the need to wear suits most of the time, Aaron never wears a tie pin. Would fit his imagine. Maybe it's a statement, though, Maybe he's not into those kind of details. Maybe David gifts Aaron a tie pin and cufflinks & it suddenly clicks. Maybe Aaron wears them on special occasions and for Dave only. Who knows. Not to mention there are also collar pins... The entire set for this man that is drowning in guilt sometimes and wears his tie like a noose every day. Don't mind me, I'm still in my feelings for those two.
Ahhh.
Slowly re-reading Mindhunter by John Douglas & watching an interaction like this is like it was takes straight from the book. Once again, the writers nailed that part of the show. And Aaron's reaction... that polite, sometimes even amused "fuck you". God, I love him. And I'm glad we've got Thomas portraying this character.
Here's a quote from the book BTW, from chapter 9:
"It was clear from early on that a lot of folks, both inside the Bureau and out, really didn't understand what we were all about."
Husbands at work. Honestly, they take such big breaks between episodes, I need some time to get used to how light David's hair becomes. So fast. Still, I like them being represented. Older men in love. <3 And, on the last one, Spencer is in the back, riding in a car with his dads. <3 While Morgan, Emily, and JJ are in another car.
Husbands arresting the abuser/killer together & telling him his rights while everyone else is watching is HOT. Dave making in character remarks is also very hot. Yeah, no wonder Aaron loves him. Me too, Aaron. Me too. And honestly, these two being best friends for years makes all the sense in the world. They fit like a jigsaw puzzle.
FAMILY. They got me at Aaron and Dave sitting together and out of everyone continuing working on a case. But then they showed Spencer sleeping there, in that quiet corner in the dim light, next to Aaron—next to his dads—and I completely lost it (first in the car, then this). Everything is perfect about this scene. Everything. My love for them being a family in every way and for the Dads caring for them just got fed (and since it's been a while, i feel so happy I wanna cry). This is what they call a comfort show and character. This.
I think it's an average episode plot-wise, but damn it, if it didn't make me feel good things because of all the moments with Dave, Aaron, and Spencer.
P.S.: Penelope's "I live to serve you, sir" when Aaron hears something that he wants a clarification on and calls her. Yeah, the big scary Boss (that is actually still her friend. I like their dynamic.)
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i have a BUNCH of ktowl questions so i’m just gonna compile them all into one ask. 1. what is dave’s access to the internet like? does he have a phone? is there even wifi in the umbra? 2. is everyone meant to have a specific age that only you know, or is it meant to be up for interpretation? 3. does dirk even listen to music? 4. does jake even listen to music?
in KTOWL, the internet as a widespread thing is not a thing. When the Alternians arrived on Earth, it causes a 'Grey Scare' event that stalled the telecommunications boom. That's why everyone uses pay phones and landlines and such.
In the discord, everyone jokes that Jake and Roxy needs to invent the internet for Dave, bc he'd be great.
Also god could you imagine following Jake on like instagram? His handle is just 'abraxas' and all his posts are this hot family he hangs out with, his high scores on every pinball machine he comes across in his travels, beautiful neon displays, selfies with Dave-- it'd be great.
Dave and Rose are around 25-28. Everyone else is in their 30s. I think of Karkat as the human equivalent of 34.
Dirk's recurring issue is that his interests have been kind of eroded over time due to the realities of his life. But he likes music and knows a lot of it, and can have a Real Conversation about it with Dave. But it's not his hobby like it is Dave's.
Jake, after Dave, is probably the person I would most expect to know how to dance, but outside just Having Taste, I don't think he knows music.
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For the pride asks!
1. Which labels do you use?
7. Are you the "token" queer person in your family?
15. How has your identity changed over time?
<3 MJ
MJ!!! happy pride 💛💛 i’ll do this for me & ur favorite vampire boys (so darren, gabe, n & beau :>)
1. Which labels do you use?
i personally use queer (my sexuality is mad complicated and i can’t really find a term that i like. if i were to pick something close i’d say achillean or mlnb/mlm really resonates with me & i love that damn toothpaste flag in part out of spite) & transmasc (i consider myself a trans man for the most part but my relationship with being a Man is complicated by being nd/black etc so transmasc in itself feels right but i also like genderqueer — queer is my favorite tbh)
for darren he’s bi!
gabe is demiromantic demisexual & he’s gay. he kinda learns that he’s these things throughout the story bc he’s like deadass never been attracted to anyone until he and darren start getting close and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself lmao
n is a transman & tbh he hasn’t thought about his sexuality too much cuz he’s married to his ambition 💀 he would definitely say he’s queer but he doesn’t really care too much about defining himself too hard bc until beau he had No Plans of being with anyone romantically or sexually lol. not bc he doesn’t feel that kind of attraction or anything, he’s just been more focused on his career lmao
beau is pansexual :3c also he’s a vampire which is just being inherently queer in he & n’s universe.
7. Are you the "token" queer person in your family?
for me, nah. two of my older cousins are gay and there’s probably more but i’m not close to my fam. i am however the token trans person 🤪
for darren nah, both his parents (dave & liz) are bi, and olice has some gender fuckery/aspec vibes going on but she doesn’t really have labels for anything yet.
gabe technically no? but he doesn’t really talk to his mom about this type of stuff lol. + being a millennia+ old celestial vampire… sexuality and labels are just cute human concepts to her. it’s different for gabe bc he was born on earth and while not raised like “human” or anything he doesn’t have the same experience as the few other celestials around.
n, definitely yes. his mom is super supportive but he doesn’t talk to his grandparents.
beau doesn’t know his birth family so that’s a complicated question. apart of the larger vampire “family” definitely not lol. in this universe, even being a vampire is a status of being queer so.
15. How has your identity changed over time?
for darren it was more straightforward he liked boys growing up and realizing he could like girls was kind of a secondary thing? he’d say it’s cuz of the whole cooties debacle from youth and he took that shit too seriously as a kid, so he never really had girl or femme id-ing people he hung out with until olice came into his life and then after that he realized oh, shit. yeah girls hot also awooga. (not bc of her she’s a sister to him but him realizing oh i can talk to girls and not die, oh they’re hot too)
gabe really didn’t have any type of sexuality awakening until darren lmao like it’s kind of funny. if you asked him before he would say he was aroace bc he didn’t like anyone and even his close friends didn’t spark anything in him. darren was different tho—he flustered him and he liked being around him and Maybe wanted to kiss him? so that’s when he realized he was probably demi instead bbhggh
n was one of those i knew i was queer from birth types so he doesn’t feel like the journey was with his identity, just more getting the curtain to match the drapes—or, getting how he presented outwardly to match his feelings inward. he was one of those athletic tomboys who hated being associated with girl shit, etc but had grandparents who raised him try to force him into that box, which is why he doesn’t talk to them now.
beau is also similar to n; bc being a vampire is inherently queer in their universe (in general too probably but yknow), because he was turned so young (around 5) he’s always felt inherently queer so there wasn’t much of a Journey to figuring himself out in that sense.
and then my long ass answer under the cut
when i was younger i never liked being a girl. but i didn’t really think of myself as a boy either? i just thought of myself as “deadname” and that was the extent of everything. i hated being feminine but i didn’t really resonate with being a “boy” because i didn’t like sports and the like. at some point i kind of just accepted that i was a “tomboy” but i still just felt like “deadname” that was my gender lmao. at least up until 8th grade where (2) things happened. (1) i found yaoi and (2) i had a Queer Awakening experience. for the first part i’d been really into japanese anime and shit for a long time but when i discovered yaoi and saw 2 men being able to love each other romantically and sexually it really opened up my worldview. i kinda never thought about having a partner. i’d had people say they liked me before but i just never felt like… into them? but looking back it’s probably bc i knew they saw me as a girl and that’s what i didn’t like i just didnt know that lmao. but seeing yaoi made me subconsciously realize that i would want a partner if it was like That. i didn’t know what That was at the time (the that being, me also being a dude lmao). and the queer awakening was when i was coming back from a school trip and my friend at the time fell asleep on me with her head on my shoulder. and i just remember thinking so so VIVIDLY “omg it’s like i’m her boyfriend” and the idea of it filled me with euphoria?? i tried to think “nah i should be thinking gf bc i’m a girl right?” but my brain rejected that Immediately. after that when i got into tumblr in hs i kind of started learning more about being gender-fluid and so i kind of dabbled in that—bc around that time the friends and gf i had were very like. oh boys suck and shit and i couldn’t just be a boy without feeling some type of way? but i definitely wasn’t Just a girl. i tried to convince myself maybe i wasn’t a boy at all bc i still didn’t feel like i could be one—i still didn’t like boy shit. i liked wearing skirts (at the time), i liked dress up games and feminine shit… so clearly i had to be Partially a girl? so it kept me in the closet for a long bit until i finally was like nah i’m like. just. a dude. a guy. all of this gender shit kind of went hand in hand with my sexuality bc i always hated the insinuation that i was a lesbian (which happened a lot, got called lesbo, my mom kept asking me if i was a lesbian bc i was physically affectionate with my would become hs gf at the time—and i realize now off topic that tbh i wouldn’t have dated her if my mom and her mom and other people weren’t putting pressure on it to be romantic? like friends can hold hands and cuddle for fucks sake Lmao) bc i’m not a girl or a woman lmao. i didn’t really like being bi either bc at the time i thought it was only being attracted to men and women and what about nb people (i’ve learned better now but this was in hs) plus my own gender was up in the air so like???? pan was my go to and i really felt at home in that label for many years. until i think a few years ago where like idk how to explain well but i just realized while i do think women can be pretty and even sexy i’m just not like. attracted to them in the same way that i’m attracted to men or nb people that aren’t femme leaning. so that’s why mlm/mlnb feels right to me? like my partner’s agender for instance lmao, but they’re my self proclaimed goth hibimbo and they tend to dress femme bc they like the fashion so like. it’s not the presentation of femininity that i’m not attracted to? so in that sense i still feel like it’s not quite correct but. words are dumb we move.
this was so long rip
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Has Genesis Day Chapter 3 in the oven like a fine roast, slaps a folder on the metaphorical table.
Y’all wanna hear about two new idiots I’ve been thinking about?
As a note, I PROBABLY (cough) won’t be doing anything long-verse with these two for at least a year or more but I definitely do want to do one-shots with them because I just am starting to really love their dynamic.
The setting is tentatively the “Space Odyssey”!AU, and it draws a lot of inspiration from James Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy, League of Legend’s Odyssey skin line and sub-universe, and Elaine Lee & Mike Kaluta’s Starstruck comic book series. Loud, colorful, absurd, despite a galaxy ruled by corporations and empires. This setting would allow for vignettes to show what the Space Odyssey versions of Alice (an Empathkinetic), Freyja (an orbital Meteor drop trooper), Rowan (a cyborg smuggler), and Zelly (a vulgar priestess of the Song of Creation) might look like--but like with Offline Valor, I wanted to give this story the opportunity to explore a new G/t (eventual) couple dynamic. I hope you like my scattered notes and thoughts about them!
The Little:
Character inspirations: Clone Troopers from Star Wars, Barry Syx from Starstruck Odyssey, Mabel from Gravity Falls, Sprig from Amphibia, Raze from Valorant, Tracer from Overwatch, Wally West from DC comics (though specifically Young Justice), Bumblebee from Transformers: Animated
WIP colors: Hot pink, yellow, black, and maybe cyan (the colors for Mountain Dew Spark)
Ever since I watched the Genndy Tartakovsky Star Wars: Clone Wars I was fascinated with the idea of cloned individuals. At first it was just my little brain was so obsessed with how cool and epic and mysterious they were--they’d always wear their helmets and look the same, but then when they’d take off their helmets they’d all have the same face. Fast-forward 5 years later when the ideas of clones and individualism was explored more fully in the The Clone Wars of George Lucas and Dave Filoni, my brain started to ask QUESTIONS about the concept--questions that were metaphysical and philosophical, over the state of a “cloned soul.”
Going into “Space Odyssey” I also knew that I want a different kind of Little to play off the Giant I’d be including as well. With Alice you had sparkling, sweet, and feminine, and Rowan who is broken, brooding, and masculine--with acting as fun romantic foils to Freyja and Zelly respectively.
For this Clone (for the purposes of this document being referred to as “64″) I want him to be optimistically aimless, chaotic but sunny, and hopelessly accident prone. Created for a war long over but only brought “to life” by pure accident in an old cloning facility, 64 now strives to find his purpose in the galaxy--with all the color, laughter, explosions, and shenanigans he can muster along the way.
The Big:
Character inspiration: Hebrion Hythenos from my own personal D&D campaign, Chell from Portal, Cassandra from Dragon Age, Viper from Valorant, Rey from Star Wars, Prince Zuko from Avatar
WIP colors: None at this time
Responsibility is a crippling thing sometimes. Sometimes it is given to us as a part of a job or calling, but sometimes responsibility comes as part of the consequences of our actions. And most of the time we either try and address it the best we can, or we put it off until the last possible moment.
Not the Runaway.
Inspired by my current D&D character, the Runaway fled her homeworld to avoid some grand responsibility that is tied to her family and potentially even the fate of her people. But why is she running?
Simply put, she’s terrified of facing it.
But she doesn’t show it, though it’s abundantly clear that she is NOT in the right--she needs to face her responsibility and face the consequences...but not when our story starts.
Calm and serious, and cool to the point of maybe even a little icy, the Runaway holds a veneer up, because if even the teeniest cracks start to show...
I wonder what might happen if we throw a plucky, colorful Clone trying to find his purpose in the galaxy at her.
---
And yeah! VERY loose ideas for these two. They represent themes of my struggles over the last few years: finding courage to face incredibly difficult responsibilities and finding purpose and color in life when it seems the world has left you behind.
So let me know what y’all think! I do want to try and get Chapter 3 of “Genesis Day” out by Sunday or Monday, but maybe I’ll take a crack at some HeroForge designs to get a loose idea of what to expect for the Runaway and her Clone!
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Mandalorian Season 3
I keep thinking about how Din Djarin's arc for Season 3 should have been him choosing Grogu, the way Grogu chooses him in The Book of Boba Fett. Like I think those scenes were supposed to be in this show and not that show. And I think it would've made the season stronger. (Though sad for me because Din and Grogu would start out separated.) But then when they end up in a happy lil house together at the end, that would've been even more satisfying. Instead of people being like, "LOL I thought he was already Grogu's dad?"
Like, we (the audience) knew that but Din (he's a bit slow) didn't. He thought sending Grogu to Luke was the right thing to do even though it hurt him personally. Maybe Din was supposed to wrestle with his own "great destiny" like Grogu did. Maybe he was to actually entertain the idea of ruling Mandalore with the Darksaber until deciding, "Nope, I would rather have the kid." Instead, he's got the kid from the beginning so there is no choice.
But then I am also sort of surprised how angry people seem to be that this season was not as tightly structured as Season 1 and Season 2. I feel like I knew going into it that they had put those Mandalorian episodes in Book of Boba Fett because they knew it was bad and that it would, therefore, weaken "Mandalorian" but strengthen "Boba Fett." And I think I also knew there were scheduling conflicts with Pedro Pascal and The Last of Us.
I remember reading that Disney only wanted to pay him a voice actor's salary in Season 1. And I was like, "That is your mistake because if that is all you pay him for that is all you are going to get." And guess what? Now they are saying he was only on set a couple of times. Shocker. Like Pedro is a great actor. They need to throw that Disney money at him to get the face time. Disney Marvel does this too. They rely on the popularity of the product to get talent, like people should just be glad they are in Star Wars or Marvel. But never consider, "Hey should we let this actor do some acting? Instead of just walking around in the hot sun in a tin can?" (I hope his agents wring all the money out of Disney for this movie Dave Filloni is supposedly working on because it sounds like his current deal is for TV not film.)
(Then I again saw this same information reported as proof that Din Djarin was going to die and Bo Katan was going to take over as the Mandalorian and I was like, "Doesn't the fact that he returned for Season 2 let alone 3 prove that some kind of deal was struck?" Which is neither here nor there.)
I guess I am always kind of surprised when people are mad things are middling. Most things are middling. I am like "shrug, I will now pick out the parts that I like and talk about that." But YouTube is like "LET ME TELL YOU WHY THIS IS THE END OF STAR WARS!!!"
Star Wars fandom is even more extra than Marvel, who acted like Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania was the end of movies in general when it was literally better than the last Ant-Man and the Wasp movie but probably not as good as Ant-Man. So, middling.
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