#an original thought-tracing production

[thought-tracing]

Porter Robinson for Cheerleader release

(3/20/2024, photo by Aylssa Kazew, source)

#music posting #porter robinson #cheerleader #edm #electronic music #pop #music #pop music #an original thought-tracing production

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image shows large falafel balls, one pulled apart to show that it is bright green and red on the inside, on a plate alongside green chilis, parsley, and pickled turnips. Second image is an extreme close-up of the inside of a halved falafel ball drizzled with tahina sauce. End ID]

فلافل محشي فلسطيني / Falafel muhashshi falastini (Palestinian stuffed falafel)

Falafel (فَلَافِل) is of contested origin. Various hypotheses hold that it was invented in Egypt any time between the era of the Pharoahs and the late nineteenth century (when the first written references to it appear). In Egypt, it is known as طَعْمِيَّة (ṭa'miyya)—the diminutive of طَعَام "piece of food"—and is made with fava beans. It was probably in Palestine that the dish first came to be made entirely with chickpeas.

The etymology of the word "falafel" is also contested. It is perhaps from the plural of an earlier Arabic word *filfal, from Aramaic 𐡐𐡋𐡐𐡉𐡋 "pilpāl," "small round thing, peppercorn"; or from "مفلفل" "mfelfel," a word meaning "peppered," from "فلفل" "pepper" + participle prefix مُ "mu."

This recipe is for deep-fried chickpea falafel with an onion and sumac حَشْوَة (ḥashua), or filling; falafel are also sometimes stuffed with labna. The spice-, aromatic-, and herb-heavy batter includes additions common to Palestinian recipes—such as dill seeds and green onions—and produces falafel balls with moist, tender interiors and crisp exteriors. The sumac-onion filling is tart and smooth, and the nutty, rich, and bright tahina-based sauce lightens the dish and provides a play of textures.

Falafel with a filling is falafel مُحَشّي (muḥashshi or maḥshshi), from حَشَّى‎ (ḥashshā) "to stuff, to fill." While plain falafel may be eaten alongside sauces, vegetables, and pickles as a meal or a snack, or eaten in flatbread wraps or kmaj bread, stuffed falafel are usually made larger and eaten on their own, not in a wrap or sandwich.

Falafel has gone through varying processes of adoption, recognition, nationalization, claiming, and re-patriation in Zionist settlers' writing. A general arc may be traced from adoption during the Mandate years, to nationalization and claiming in the years following the Nakba until the end of the 20th century, and back to re-Arabization in the 21st. However, settlers disagree with each other about the value and qualities of the dish within any given period.

What is consistent is that falafel maintains a strategic ambiguity: particular qualities thought to belong to "Arabs" may be assigned, revoked, rearranged, and reassigned to it (and to other foodstuffs and cultural products) at will, in accordance with broader trends in politics, economics, and culture, or in service of the particular argument that a settler (or foreign Zionist) wishes to make.

Mandate Palestine, 1920s – early '30s: Secular and collective

While most scholars hold that claims of an ancient origin for falafel are unfounded, it was certainly being eaten in Palestine by the 1920s. Yael Raviv writes that Jewish settlers of the second and third "עליות"‎ ("aliyot," waves of immigration; singular "עליה" "aliya") tended to adopt falafel, and other Palestinian foodstuffs, largely uncritically. They viewed Palestinian Arabs as holding vessels that had preserved Biblical culture unchanged, and that could therefore serve as models for a "new," agriculturally rooted, physically active, masculine Jewry that would leave behind the supposed errors of "old" European Jewishness, including its culinary traditions—though of course the Arab diet would need to be "corrected" and "civilized" before it was wholly suitable for this purpose.

Falafel was further endeared to these "חֲלוּצִים‎" ("halutzim," "pioneers") by its status as a street food. The undesirable "old" European Jewishness was associated with the insularity of the nuclear family and the bourgeois laziness of indoor living. The קִבּוּצים‎ ("Kibbutzim," communal living centers), though they represented only a small minority of settlers, furnished a constrasting ideal of modern, earthy Jewishness: they left food production to non-resident professional cooks, eliding the role of the private, domestic kitchen. Falafel slotted in well with these ascetic ideals: like the archetypal Arabic bread and olive oil eaten by the Jewish farmer in his field, it was hardy, cheap, quick, portable, and unconnected to the indoor kitchen.

The author of a 1929 article in דאר היום ("Doar Hyom," "Today's Mail") shows unrestrained admiration for the "[]מזרחי" ("Oriental") food, writing of his purchase of falafel stuffed in a "פיתה" ("pita") that:

רק בני-ערב, ואחיהם — היהודים הספרדים — רק הם עלולים "להכנת מטעם מפולפל" שכזה, הנעים כל כך לחיך [...].

("Only the Arabs, and their brothers—the Sepherdi Jews—only they are likely to create a delicacy so 'peppered' [a play on the פ-ל-פ-ל (f-l-f-l) word root], one so pleasing to the palate".)

Falafel's strong association with "Arabs" (i.e., Palestinians), however, did blemish the foodstuff in the eyes of some as early as 1930. An article in the English-language Palestine Bulletin told the story of Kamel Ibn Hassan's trial for the murder of a British soldier, lingering on the "Arab" "hashish addicts," "women of the streets," and "concessionaires" who rounded out this lurid glimpse into the "underground life lived by a certain section of Arab Haifa"; it was in this context that Kamel's "'business' of falafel" (scare quotes original) was mentioned.

Mandate Palestine, late 1930s–40s: A popular Oriental dish

In 1933, only three licensed falafel vendors operated in Tel Aviv; but by December 1939, Lilian Cornfeld (columnist for the English-language Palestine Post) could lament that "filafel cakes" were "proclaiming their odoriferous presence from every street corner," no longer "restricted to the seashore and Oriental sections" of the city.

Settlers' attitudes to falafel at this time continued to range from appreciation to fascinated disgust to ambivalence, and references continued to focus on its cheapness and quickness. According to Cornfeld, though the "orgy of summertime eating" of which falafel was the "most popular" representative caused some dietary "damage" to children, and though the "rather messy and dubious looking" food was deep-fried, the chickpeas themselves were still of "great nutritional value": "However much we may object to frying, — if fry you must, this at least is the proper way of doing it."

Cornfeld's article, appearing 10 years after the 1929 reference to falafel in pita quoted above, further specifies how this dish was constructed:

There is first half a pita (Arab loaf), slit open and filled with five filafels, a few fried chips [i.e. French fries] and sometimes even a little salad. The whole is smeared over with Tehina, a local mayonnaise made with sesame oil (emphasis original).

The ethnicity of these early vendors is not explicitly mentioned in these accounts. The Zionist "תוצרת הארץ" "totzeret ha’aretz"; "produce of the land") campaign in the 1930s and 1940s recommended buying only Jewish produce and using only Jewish labor, but it did not achieve unilaterial success, so it is not assured that settlers would not be buying from Palestinian vendors. There were, however, also Mizrahi Jewish vendors in Tel Aviv at this time.

The WW2-era "צֶנַע" ("tzena"; "frugality") period of rationing meat, which was enforced by British mandatory authorities beginning in 1939 and persisting until 1959, may also have contributed to the popularity of falafel during this time—though urban settlers employed various strategies to maintain access to significant amounts of meat.

Israel and elsewhere, 1950s – early 60s: The dawn of de-Arabization

After the Nakba (the ethnic cleansing of broad swathes of Palestine in the creation of the modern state of "Israel"), the task of producing a national Israeli identity and culture tied to the land, and of asserting that Palestinians had no like sense of national identity, acquired new urgency. The claiming of falafel as "the national snack of Israel," the decoupling of the dish from any association with "Arabs" (in settlers' writing of any time period, this means "Palestinians"), and the insistence on associating it with "Israel" and with "Jews," mark this time period in Israeli and U.S.-ian newspaper articles, travelogues, and cookbooks.

During this period, falafel remained popular despite the "reintegrat[ion]" of the nuclear family into the "national project," and the attendant increase in cooking within the familial home. It was still admirably quick, efficient, hardy, and frequently eaten outside. When it was homemade, the dish could be used rhetorically to marry older ideas about embodying a "new" Jewishness and a return to the land through dietary habits, with the recent return to the home kitchen. In 1952, Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi, the wife of the second President of Israel, wrote to a South African Zionist women's society:

I prefer Oriental dishes and am inclined towards vegetarianism and naturalism, since we are returning to our homeland, going back to our origin, to our climate, our landscape and it is only natural that we liberate ourselves from many of the habits we acquired in the course of our wanderings in many countries, different from our own. [...] Meals at the President's table [...] consist mainly of various kinds of vegetable prepared in the Oriental manner which we like as well as [...] home-made Falafel, and, of course vegetables and fruits of the season.

Out of doors, associations of falafel with low prices, with profusion and excess, and with youth, travelling and vacation (especially to urban locales and the seaside) continue. Falafel as part and parcel of Israeli locales is given new emphasis: a reference to the pervasive smell of frying falafel rounds out the description of a chaotic, crowded, clamorous scene in the compact, winding streets of any old city. Falafel increasingly stands metonymically for Israel, especially in articles written to entice Jewish tourists and settlers: no one is held to have visited Israel unless they have tried real Israeli falafel. A 1958 song ("ולנו יש פלאפל", "And We Have Falafel") avers that:

הַיּוֹם הוּא רַק יוֹרֵד מִן הַמָּטוֹס [...] כְבָר קוֹנֶה פָלָאפֶל וְשׁוֹתֶה גָּזוֹז כִּי זֶה הַמַּאֲכָל הַלְּאֻמִּי שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל

("Today when [a Jew] gets off the plane [to Israel] he immediately has a falafel and drinks gazoz [...] because this is the national dish of Israel"). A 1962 story in Israel Today features a boy visiting Israel responding to the question "Have you learned Hebrew yet?" by asserting "I know what falafel is." Recipes for falafel appear alongside ads for smoked lox and gefilte fish in U.S.-ian Jewish magazines; falafel was served by Zionist student groups in U.S.-ian universities beginning in the 1950s and continuing to now.

These de-Arabization and nationalization processes were possible in part because it was often Mizrahim (West Asian and North African Jews) who introduced Israelis to Palestinian food—especially after 1950, when they began to immigrate to Israel in larger numbers. Even if unfamiliar with specific Palestinian dishes, Mizrahim were at least familiar with many of the ingredients, taste profiles, and cooking methods involved in preparing them. They were also more willing to maintain their familiar foodways as settlers than were Zionist Ashkenazim, who often wanted to distance themselves from European and diaspora Jewish culture.

Despite their longstanding segregation from Israeli Ashkenazim (and the desire of Ashkenazim to create a "new" European Judaism separate from the indolence and ignorance of "Oriental" Jews, including their wayward foodways), Mizrahim were still preferable to Palestinian Arabs as a point of origin for Israel's "national snack." When associated with Mizrahi vendors, falafel could be considered both Oriental and Jewish (note that Sephardim and Mizrahim are unilaterally not considered to be "Arabs" in this writing).

Thus food writing of the 1950s and 60s (and some food writing today) asserts, contrary to settlers' writing of the 1920s and 30s, that falafel had been introduced to Israel by Jewish immigrants from Syria, Yemen, or Morocco, who had been used to eating it in their native countries—this, despite the fact that Yemen and Morocco did not at this time have falafel dishes. Even texts critical of Zionism echoed this narrative. In fact, however, Yemeni vendors had learned to make falafel in Egypt on their way to Palestine and Israel, and probably found falafel already being sold and eaten there when they arrived.Meneley, Anne2007 Like an Extra Virgin. American Anthropologist 109(4):678–687

Meanwhile, "pita" (Palestinian Arabic: خبز الكماج; khubbiz al-kmaj) was undergoing in some quarters a similar process of Israelization; it remained "Arab" in others. In 1956, a Boston-born settler in Haifa wrote for The Jewish Post:

The baking of the pittah loaves is still an Arab monopoly [in Israel], and the food is not available at groceries or bakeries which serve Jewish clientele exclusively. For our Oriental meal to be a success we must have pittah, so the more advance shopping must be done.

This "Arab monopoly" in fact did not extent to an Arab monopoly in discourse: it was a mere four years later that the National Jewish Post and Opinion described "Peeta" as an "Israeli thin bread." Two years after that, the U.S.-published My Jewish Kitchen: The Momales Ta'am Cookbook (co-authored by Zionist writer Shushannah Spector) defined "pitta" as an "Israeli roll."

Despite all this scrubbing work, settlers' attitudes towards falafel in the late 1950s were not wholly positive, and references to the dish as having been "appropriated from the [Palestinian] Arabs" did not disappear. A 1958 article, written by a Boston-born man who had settled in Israel in 1948 and published in U.S.-ian Zionist magazine Midstream, repeats the usual associations of falafel with the "younger set" of visitors from kibbutzim to "urban" locales; it also denigrates it as a “formidably indigestible Arab delicacy concocted from highly spiced legumes rolled into little balls, fried in grease, and then inserted into an underbaked piece of dough, known as a pita.”

Thus settlers were ambivalent about khubbiz as well. If their food writing sometimes refers to pita as "doughy" or "underbaked," it is perhaps because they were purchasing it from stores rather than baking it at home—bakeries sometimes underbake their khubbiz so that it retains more water, since it is sold by weight.

Israel and elsewhere, late 1960s–2010s: Falafel with even fewer Arabs

The sanitization of falafel would be more complete in the 60s and 70s, as falafel was gradually moved out of separate "Oriental dishes" categories and into the main sections of Israeli cookbooks. A widespread return to כַּשְׁרוּת‎ (kashrut; dietary laws) meant that falafel, a פַּרְוֶה (parve) dish—one that contained no meat or dairy—was a convenient addition on occasions when food intersected with nationalist institutions, such as at state dinners and in the mess halls of Israeli military forces.

This, however, still did not prohibit Israelis from displaying ambivalence towards the food. Falafel was more likely to be glorified as a symbol of Jewish Israel in foreign magazines and tourist guides, including in the U.S.A. and Italy, than it was to be praised in Israeli Zionist publications.

Where falafel did maintain an association with Palestinians, it was to assert that their versions of it had been inferior. In 1969, Israeli writer Ruth Bondy opines:

Experience says that if we are to form an affection for a people we should find something admirable about its customs and folklore, its food or girls, its poetry and music. True, we have taken the first steps in this direction [with Palestinians]: we like kebab, hummous, tehina and falafel. The trouble is that these have already become Jewish dishes and are prepared more tastily by every Rumanian restaurateur than by the natives of Nablus.

Opinions about falafel in this case seem to serve as a mirror for political opinions about Palestinians: the same writer had asserted, on the previous page, that the "ideal situation, of course, would be to keep all the territories we are holding today—but without so many Arabs. A few Arabs would even be desirable, for reasons of local color, raising pigs for non-Moslems and serving bread on the Passover, but not in their masses" (trans. Israel L. Taslitt).

Later narratives tended to retrench the Israelization of falafel, often acknowledging that falafel had existed in Palestine prior to Zionist incursion, but holding that Jewish settlers had made significant changes to its preparation that were ultimately responsible for making it into a worldwide favorite. Joan Nathan's 2001 Foods of Israel Today, for example, claimed that, while fava and chickpea falafel had both preëxisted the British Mandate period, Mizrahi settlers caused chickpeas to be the only pulse used in falafel.

Gil Marks, who had echoed this narrative in his 2010 Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, later attributed the success of Palestinian foods to settlers' inventiveness: "Jews didn’t invent falafel. They didn’t invent hummus. They didn’t invent pita. But what they did invent was the sandwich. Putting it all together. And somehow that took off and now I have three hummus restaurants near my house on the Upper West Side.”

Israel and elsewhere, 2000s – 2020s: Re-Arabization; or, "Local color"

Ronald Ranta has identified a trend of "re-Arabizing" Palestinian food in Israeli discourse of the late 2000s and later: cooks, authors, and brands acknowledge a food's origin or identity as "Arab," or occasionally even "Palestinian," and consumers assert that Palestinian and Israeli-Palestinian (i.e., Israeli citizens of Palestinian ancestry) preparations of foods are superior to, or more "authentic" than, Jewish-Israeli ones. Israeli and Israeli-Palestinian brands and restaurants market various foods, including falafel, as "אסלי" ("asli"), from the Arabic "أَصْلِيّ" ("ʔaṣliyy"; "original"), or "בלדי" ("baladi"), from the Arabic "بَلَدِيّ" ("baladiyy"; "native" or "my land").

This dedication to multiculturalism may seem like progress, but Ranta cautions that it can also be analyzed as a new strategy in a consistent pattern of marginalization of the indigenous population: "the Arab-Palestinian other is r­e-colonized and re-imagined only as a resource for tasty food [...] which has been de-politicized[;] whatever is useful and tasty is consumed, adapted and appropriated, while the rest of its culture is marginalized and discarded." This is the "serving bread" and "local color" described by Bondy: "Arabs" are thought of in terms of their usefulness to settlers, and not as equal political participants in the nation. For Ranta, the "re-Arabizing" of Palestinian food thus marks a new era in Israel's "confiden[ce]" in its dominance over the indigenous population.

So this repatriation of Palestinian food is limited insofar as it does not extend to an acknowledgement of Palestinians' political aspirations, or a rejection of the Zionist state. Food, like other indicators and aspects of culture, is a "safe" avenue for engagement with colonized populations even when politics is not.

The acknowledgement of Palestinian identity as an attempt to neutralize political dissent, or perhaps to resolve the contradictions inherent in liberal Zionist identity, can also be seen in scholarship about Israeli food culture. This scholarship tends to focus on narratives about food in the cultural domain, ignoring the material impacts of the settler-colonialist state's control over the production and distribution of food (something that Ranta does as well). Food is said to "cross[] borders" and "transcend[] cultural barriers" without examination of who put the borders there (or where, or why, or how, or when). Disinterest in material realities is cultivated so that anodyne narratives about food as “a bridge” between divides can be pursued.

Raviv, for example, acknowledges that falafel's de-Palestinianization was inspired by anti-Arab sentiment, and that claiming falafel in support of "Jewish nationalism" was a result of "a connection between the people and a common land and history [needing] to be created artificially"; however, after referring euphemistically to the "accelerated" circumstances of Israel's creation, she supports a shared identity for falafel in which it can also be recognized as "Israeli." She concludes that this should not pose a problem for Palestinians, since "falafel was never produced through the labor of a colonized population, nor was Palestinian land appropriated for the purpose of growing chickpeas for its preparation. Thus, falafel is not a tool of oppression."

Palestine and Israel, 1960s – 2020s: Material realities

Yet chickpeas have been grown in Israel for decades, all of them necessarily on appropriated Palestinian land. Experimentation with planting in the arid conditions of the south continues, with the result that today, chickpea is the major pulse crop in the country. An estimated 17,670,000 kilograms of chickpeas were produced in Israel in 2021; at that time, this figure had increased by an average of 3.5% each year since 1966. 73,110 kilograms of that 2021 crop was exported (this even after several years of consecutive decline in chickpea exports following a peak in 2018), representing $945,000 in exports of dried chickpeas alone.

The majority of these chickpeas ($872,000) were exported to the West Bank and Gaza; Palestinians' inability to control their own imports (all of which must pass through Israeli customs, and which are heavily taxed or else completely denied entry), and Israeli settler violence and government expropriation of land, water, and electricity resources (which make agriculture difficult), mean that Palestine functions as a captive market for Israeli exports. Israeli goods are the only ones that enter Palestinian markets freely.

By contrast, Palestinian exports, as well as imports, are subject to taxation by Israel, and only a small minority of imports to Israel come from Palestine ($1.13 million out of $22.4 million of dried chickpeas in 2021).

The 1967 occupation of the West Bank has besides had a demonstrable impact on Palestinians' ability to grow chickpeas for domestic consumption or export in the first place, as data on the changing uses of agricultural land in the area from 1966–2001 allow us to see. Chickpeas, along with wheat, barley, fenugreek, and dura, made up a major part of farmers' crops from 1840 to 1914; but by 2001, the combined area devoted to these field crops was only a third of its 1966 value. The total area given over to chickpeas, lentils and vetch, in particular, shrank from 14,380 hectares in 1966 to 3,950 hectares in 1983.

Part of this decrease in production was due to a shortage of agricultural labor, as Palestinians, newly deprived of land or of the necessary water, capital, and resources to work it—and in defiance of Raviv's assertion that "falafel was never produced through the labor of a colonized population"—sought jobs as day laborers on Israeli fields.

The dearth of water was perhaps especially limiting. Palestinians may not build anything without a permit, which the Israeli military may deny for any, or for no, reason: no Palestinian's request for a permit to dig a well has been approved in the West Bank since 1967. Israel drains aquifiers for its own use and forbids Palestinians to gather rainwater, which the Israeli military claims to own. This lack of water led to land which had previously been used to grow other crops being transitioned into olive tree fields, which do not require as much water or labor to tend.

In Gaza as well, occupation systematically denies Palestinians of food itself, not just narratives about food. The majority of the population in Gaza is food-insecure, as Israel allows only precisely determined (and scant) amounts of food to cross its borders. Gazans rely largely on canned goods, such as chickpeas (often purchased at subsidized rates through food aid programs run by international NGOs), because they do not require scarce water or fuel to prepare—but canned chickpeas cannot be used to prepare a typical deep-fried falafel recipe (the discs would fall apart while frying). There is, besides, a continual shortage of oil (of which only a pre-determined amount of calories are allowed to enter the Strip). Any narrative about Israeli food culture that does not take these and other realities of settler-colonialism into account is less than half complete.

Of course, falafel is far from the only food impacted by this long campaign of starvation, and the strategy is only intensifying: as of December 2023, children are reported to have died by starvation in the besieged Gaza Strip.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund; buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

Equipment:

A meat grinder, or a food processor, or a high-speed or immersion blender, or a mortar and pestle and an enormous store of patience

A pot, for frying

A kitchen thermometer (optional)

Ingredients:

Makes 12 large falafel balls; serves 4 (if eaten on their own).

For the فلافل (falafel):

500g dried chickpeas (1010g once soaked)

1 large onion

4 cloves garlic

1 Tbsp cumin seeds

1 Tbsp coriander seeds

2 tsp dill seeds (عين جرادة; optional)

1 medium green chili pepper (such as a jalapeño), or 1/2 large one (such as a ram's horn / فلفل قرن الغزال)

2 stalks green onion (3 if the stalks are thin) (optional)

Large bunch (50g) parsley, stems on; or half parsley and half cilantro

2 Tbsp sea salt

2 tsp baking soda (optional)

For the حَشوة (filling):

2 large yellow onions, diced

1/4 cup coarsely ground sumac

4 tsp shatta (شطة: red chili paste), optional

Salt, to taste

3 Tbsp olive oil

For the طراطور (tarator):

3 cloves garlic

1/2 tsp table salt

1/4 cup white tahina

Juice of half a lemon (2 Tbsp)

2 Tbsp vegan yoghurt (لبن رائب; optional)

About 1/4 cup water

To make cultured vegan yoghurt, follow my labna recipe with 1 cup, instead of 3/4 cup, of water; skip the straining step.

To fry:

Several cups neutral oil

Untoasted hulled sesame seeds (optional)

Instructions:

1. If using whole spices, lightly toast in a dry skillet over medium heat, then grind with a mortar and pestle or spice mill.

2. Grind chickpeas, onion, garlic, chili, and herbs. Modern Palestinian recipes tend to use powered meat grinders; you could also use a food processor, speed blender, or immersion blender. Some recipes set aside some of the chickpeas, aromatics, and herbs and mince them finely, passing the knife over them several times, then mixing them in with the ground mixture to give the final product some texture. Consult your own preferences.

To mimic the stone-ground texture of traditional falafel, I used a mortar and pestle. I found this to produce a tender, creamy, moist texture on the inside, with the expected crunchy exterior. It took me about two hours to grind a half-batch of this recipe this way, so I don't per se recommend it, but know that it is possible if you don't have any powered tools.

3. Mix in salt, spices, and baking soda and stir thoroughly to combine. Allow to chill in the fridge while you prepare the filling and sauce.

If you do not plan to fry all of the batter right away, only add baking soda to the portion that you will fry immediately. Refrigerate the rest of the batter for up to 2 days, or freeze it for up to 2 months. Add and incorporate baking soda immediately before frying. Frozen batter will need to be thawed before shaping and frying.

For the filling:

1. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Fry onion and a pinch of salt for several minutes, until translucent. Remove from heat.

2. Add sumac and stir to combine. Add shatta, if desired, and stir.

For the tarator:

1. Grind garlic and salt in a mortar and pestle (if you don't have one, finely mince and then crush the garlic with the flat of your knife).

2. Add garlic to a bowl along with tahina and whisk. You will notice the mixture growing smoother and thicker as the garlic works as an emulsifier.

3. Gradually add lemon juice and continue whisking until smooth. Add yoghurt, if desired, and whisk again.

4. Add water slowly while whisking until desired consistency is achieved. Taste and adjust salt.

To fry:

1. Heat several inches of oil in a small or medium pot to about 350 °F (175 °C). A piece of batter dropped in the oil should float and immediately form bubbles, but should not sizzle violently. (With a small pot on my gas stove, my heat was at medium-low).

2. Use your hands or a large falafel mold to shape the falafel.

To use a falafel mold: Dip your mold into water. If you choose to cover both sides of the falafel with sesame seeds, first sprinkle sesame seeds into the mold; then apply a flat layer of batter. Add a spoonful of filling into the center, and then cover it with a heaping mound of batter. Using a spoon, scrape from the center to the edge of the mold repeatedly, while rotating the mold, to shape the falafel into a disc with a slightly rounded top. Sprinkle the top with sesame seeds.

To use your hands: wet your hands slightly and take up a small handful of batter. Shape it into a slightly flattened sphere in your palm and form an indentation in the center; fill the indentation with filling. Cover it with more batter, then gently squeeze between both hands to shape. Sprinkle with sesame seeds as desired.

3. Use a slotted spoon or kitchen spider to lower falafel balls into the oil as they are formed. Fry, flipping as necessary, until discs are a uniform brown (keep in mind that they will darken another shade once removed from the oil). Remove onto a wire rack or paper towel.

If the pot you are using is inclined to stick, be sure to scrape the bottom and agitate each falafel disc a couple seconds after dropping it in.

4. Repeat until you run out of batter. Occasionally use a slotted spoon or small sieve to remove any excess sesame seeds from the oil so they do not burn and become acrid.

Serve immediately with sauce, sliced vegetables, and pickles, as desired.

#Palestine #Israel #vegetarian recipes #Palestinian #falafel #chickpeas #sumac #onions #garlic #parsley #cilantro #dill seeds #sesame seeds #tahina #yoghurt #long post /

[ender-girl-13]

Thoughts on Palworld

Leave it to the internet to miss the entire point of people disliking Palworld. It's not because they are taking money from Pokémon. It not because they think Pokémon but with guns is stupid. IT'S ABOUT ARTISTIC INTEGRITY AND ORIGINALITY! Some of the Pals are just blatant rip-off's/fusions of existing Pokémon. If people try to steal Pokémon's designs and actually sell that as a commercial product that may give the impression that it's ok to steal others art and encourage it! If all of the Pals they made were original I would love to play it!

P.S

Apparently the accusations of them ripping Pokémon models was false. (Sorry about that) But they did basically do the 3D modeling version of tracing which is still bad. Also I've watched more videos on this game and it is very POSSIBLE they have stolen fan Fakemon designs and changed them up a little which is still shitty of them.

Again I will reiterate I would love this game and it's success if it wasn't so creatively bankrupt and plagiarized.

Here are some alternative Pokémon-esce games to play!

Cassette Beasts - Try to find you way out of this land and transform into and fuse Beasts!

TemTem - Very cute art style and can play online with other people! Also has a Nuzlocke/Randomlocke Mode.

Ooblets - Have card dance battles with other Ooblets and have them help you on your farm. You can also run your own shop!

Coromon - You're a newly minted Battle Researcher and your job gets attacked on your first day of work! Track down the invaders and discover the rising threat around Velua! Has different difficultly modes and customization.

Monster Sanctuary - A Monster Taming Metroidvania Sidescroller

Here are some Pokémon fan games to try!

Reborn - Has decent difficulty/One of the most difficult fan games I've come across. Has new Pokémon Forms

Uranium - Original Region and Pokémon

Insurgence - Has an option for a slightly darker twist on the traditional Pokémon story. Has new Pokémon/Forms

Xenoverse - Haven't play or watched it but looks very promising. Originally in Spanish but has a English translation as well.

Phoenix Rising - Still in development and only has one episode. Has new Pokémon Forms and amazing art and visuals

Red Adventures - From what I've seen it seems to be a game version of The Pokémon Adventures Manga

Castaway - Your plane crashes and you are left to discover the secrets of a mysterious island.

Mewyou - A game where you play as Mew!

Axis - You are teleported from our world to the Pokémon world/You're still human

Ethereal Gates - Still only a Demo at the moment/Unsure if they are still making it

I will add more to this list if asked!

#My Posts #Palworld

[judeswhore]

love on you; steve harrington

summary: a few months into your relationship with steve you were still waiting on your first time but after an extra long day at work all you want is for him to relieve you of some tension

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f) receiving, fingering, slight dirty talk, protected sex, this turned out a lot longer than i expected bc i wanted it to be soft and fluffy so hopefully it is

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here. there was another request for sweet sex with steve after work which i incorporated into this but i lost the original ask so to the anon who sent it this is also ur request and i’m so sorry!

steve knew you were exhausted the moment you stepped into his bedroom, dropping your work bag to the floor with a quiet huff, lips pouted almost dramatically as you flopped down on top of him. you were still in the diners uniform, a cute yellow dress that steve told you constantly was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, but you'd removed the white frilly apron and black flats that came with it. he himself had finished his shift at family video almost two hours ago and after dropping dustin off at eddie's trailer, he'd spent the rest of his time waiting for you to finish, watching jaws.

his arms found your waist as you tucked your face away in the crook of his neck, lashes fluttering against his skin when you closed your eyes and he held back a shiver at the feel of your breath on his throat. you'd slid one hand into his hair and steve grinned at the way you so comfortably clung to him, took pride in the fact he was your source of comfort after a long day. he turned his head to kiss the side of yours, tucking his nose away in your hair and breathing in the familiar scent of your sweet and flowery perfume.

"rough day?"

"the absolute worst, my feet are gonna fall off." he could feel you pouting and the sleepy warn out tone of your voice tugged at his heart and he found himself pouting too. he brushed his hand up and down your back, slow and soothing and you seemed to melt into him, a content hum tickling his collarbone.

"my poor baby." he left a cluster of kisses against your head, tender and loving, the tips of his fingers tickling the bare skin at the back of your thigh before working back up. his touch made you shudder, had the tension in your shoulders finally unwinding after such a long day. it was always a surprise to you how much comfort steve could bring, how he would settle your mind and heart, could have you forgetting all about the stresses of your day with just a few light kisses and fleeting touches. no one had ever had that kind of effect on you before, no one had ever made your head spin and heart stutter the way he did. "how can i make it better?"

you shifted against his body at that question, lifting your head to finally look at him and he sent you a lovesick smile, one that twisted up your insides. you grinned at his slightly messed up hair, more than happy that it was free from product, fluffy and unkempt, eyes tracking over his freckles, those lips that you'd thought about on more than one occasion today. he was still tracing his fingers along your thigh and each time he got a little higher up your dress your body reacted, stomach clenching, pulse flickering in more than one place.

"you can kiss me." his smile turned cheeky, more flirty as he lowered his eyes, lifted his head until his lips grazed yours.

“can i now?” your nod had your noses bumping, your top lip catching slightly on his bottom and steve’s fingers curled around the back of your thigh. his other hand held your waist, his eyes twinkling and the heat of him made you feel a little flustered. in one movement he’d flipped the two of you over, your back hitting his mattress, head against his soft pillow and you giggled arms winding around his neck. he slotted easily between your legs, forearms resting on either side of your head and dipped low, lips brushing soothingly over your jaw. “missed you.”

“how much?”

“so much.” he nipped playfully at your ear, dragging his mouth back along your cheek until it hovered over yours, breath warm against your skin. he gave you one simple kiss, quick, fleeting, barely even there and it made you pout, fingers sinking into his hair. “been thinking about you all day.” he pressed a kiss to your pout but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy you, your skin prickling with an overwhelming need to feel him. in any way.

“yeah? what about?” he grinned that devilish grin again and dipped down to your neck, your head tipping back when you felt his lips at your throat. his kisses were full and wet, tongue darting out to soothe over the gentle marks he’d made and you gave a breathy sigh, fingers twisting in his hair. steve’s body between your legs had resulted in your dress rising up, thighs completely bare and your heart hammered when he slid his hand down it, fingers hooking around the back of your knee to lift it over his hip. it had him pressing completely into you, the fabric of his jeans against your clothed clit making your head spin, a whimper getting caught in the back of your throat.

in the months since you and steve had started dating you’d gone no further than heavy make outs, soft groping with fumbling and unsteady hands. on your part at least, steve was an expert with his hands, even when just running them along your body, teasing over your boobs as you’d moaned into his mouth. you hadn’t had your first time yet, with anyone, you hadn’t wanted to rush, but right now, pressed beneath your boyfriend, his weight and heat pushing you further into the bed, you didn’t want to wait anymore. you wanted him, in the closest way humanly possible. you were tired of the pent up frustration, the need to feel him completely almost overwhelming and after the awful day you’d had at work you wanted steve and the pleasure he could give you to help you relax.

“‘bout how pretty you are,” his words were muffled by your skin, slightly rough around the edges and you wondered if he was struggling to stay composed as much as you. he was still yet to kiss you properly and it was driving you insane, every part of your body begging to be touched by him. “because you’re so fucking pretty, baby, y’know that? got the prettiest eyes. the prettiest smile.” he punctuated his last two sentences with kisses to your mouth, his nose nudging yours. “you’re beautiful.”

steve finally kissed you, full and proper, lazy drags of his lips against yours that were mind numbingly sweet. he made a noise into the kiss, one that had your hips bucking up against his, fingers pulling at the ends of his hair and he groaned again in response, a sound that came from deep in his chest. his forearm was pressed just above your head on the pillow, holding himself up and his other hand left your thigh to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss. he rolled his hips carefully into yours and your mouth fell open on a gasp, steve’s tongue taking the opportunity to meet yours.

your body felt like it was on fire, your dress suddenly too warm and too tight, heat creeping up your chest and neck as you licked into steve’s mouth, revelling in the taste of coffee on his lips. his thumb was brushing over your cheek, soft and comforting, and you felt dizzy with desire, fingers running down his sides until you reached the hem of his shirt. you pushed your hands beneath it, palms flat to his abdomen and you felt him tense, felt the strain in his jeans as he once again rocked his hips into yours, a shudder running through him. you wrapped your fingers in the hem of his shirt and tugged, pulling your lips away from his.

"take it off." your words were breathless, uttered against the corner of his mouth and steve paused momentarily as you pushed his shirt a little further up. he was breathing just as hard as you, chest rising and falling a little rapidly and it shocked you how much of an effect you seemed to have on each other. a few minutes of making out and you were both a little dizzy and disoriented. steve shifted up on to his knees between your legs, raised his arms and tugged the white shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly to his floor.

you followed him up, sitting with your knees bent on either side of his body, hands reaching for his chest, fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles, the dip of his v as you took in his now disheveled state. mused hair, kiss swollen lips, soft pink cheeks. he looked like sex and it was driving you insane. he dipped back down to kiss you, moaning softly into your mouth when you ever so lightly dragged your nails down his back. you ran your hands along his arms, the bulge of his biceps making your head spin because even after all this time you still found it hard to believe he was yours. he was someone who always seemed so far out of reach, someone who was too perfect to ever look twice in your direction and it was hard sometimes not to pinch yourself just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

your head tipped back, a breathy sigh rolling from your lips when steve dropped his face into your neck, lips hot and teasing on your skin. he sucked a kiss into a spot at the base of your throat and your stomach tightened, clit throbbing and it was almost embarrassing how desperate and wet you were. steve had barely done anything yet the damp spot in your underwear was only growing larger. he soothed his tongue over the mark he’d made, his fingers squeezing at your thigh, hand pushing your dress up until it was almost around your waist. the top of his thumb swiped beneath the band of your underwear and you squeezed his bicep, nerves on fire wherever he touched. curling your fingers around his wrist you pulled his hand from your thigh, brought it up and around your back, guiding him towards the zipper of your dress.

“can you unzip me?” it was a whisper but steve still heard, body freezing, lips parting from where he’d been sucking and biting a small blossom beneath your ear. he pulled back to meet your eyes, his own dark and lust filled, a little glassy and unfocused. he blinked at you, once, slowly and then reached his hand to brush along your cheek.

“we don’t have to do anything, you don’t have to feel like we need to just because, y’know.” he glanced down at his naked chest and then a little further until you were both staring at the obvious bulge in his jeans. he was straining against the material and you so badly wanted to touch him, wanted steve to teach you all the things he liked so you could have him falling apart in front of you. you shook your head, fingers brushing his hair back off his forehead, slipping easily through the silky strands.

“i want to. i- i want you.” the words settled over you, steve’s eyes flickering between both of yours as if he was trying to find any hint of hesitation, any small indication that you didn’t actually want to go any further. he rubbed his thumb softly over your bottom lip, shuffling a little closer to you.

“you’re sure? i don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, we can just like make out and watch a movie.” he gave you a small, lopsided grin as you took his face between both of your hands, cupped his cheeks and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"i'm tired of just making out, wanna feel you." steve made a soft sound at your words, eyes falling closed for a second as he drew in a deep breath before letting it fan out over your lips. he bumped your nose lightly and then was kissing you again, slow and toe curling, completely all consuming, his fingers working at the zipper on the back of your dress. his knuckles dragged along your spine and pulled a shiver from you, your heart thrumming in your chest, tummy winding as he helped you out of the material, dropping it to the floor beside his shirt.

"you're gorgeous, just fucking perfect, baby." his eyes immediately fell to your chest, boobs almost spilling from your bra and suddenly he was crowding you, pressing you back into the mattress, arms caging you between them. his mouth was everywhere, against your jaw, your throat, grazing your collarbone, pressing softly into the swell of your boobs. his hands were just as bad, sliding up your thigh, over the dip of your waist, fingers brushing over every part of you they could. your fingers got lost in his hair, your whole body catching alight with each drag of his tongue until your chest was heaving and you were slowly becoming a whimpering mess.

steve's finger tip traced along the skin just beneath your bra, his lips shifting into a small smirk when you shivered. "can i take it off?" you were nodding before he'd even finished, lifting on to your elbows so he could reach the strap.

"please." the second your bra was gone steve was on you, mouth latching on to one nipple, thumb and finger pinching and rolling the other. he gently cupped your boob, squeezing softly until you were arching into him, pressing his head closer with your grip on his hair. he pulled off with a pop, blew cold air against your now wet skin and watched goosebumps rise across your body.

"got the prettiest tits." you felt hot all over, flustered and worked up, hips lifting so you could grind against steve's cock, slightly annoyed that his jeans were still in the way. he groaned low in response and bucked back into you, the metal of his belt cold and stinging against the flushed skin of your stomach. steve flicked his tongue over your nipple, pressed a series of soft kisses to the space between your boobs, nuzzling into your skin just slightly. "gonna take care of you, okay? but you have to tell me if you want me to stop."

"i will, promise, just-just do something." your mind was spinning, pussy throbbing with an overwhelming sense of need and you couldn't help the whine that slid into your voice. steve lifted his head and pressed a tender kiss to your mouth, lingering a few seconds before shuffling down the bed and your body. his hands soothed over your sides as he settled between your open legs, turning his head to kiss your thighs, mouth trailing up towards your pussy. the wet patch was obvious and steve grinned, blew onto it and watched as your body tightened.

“gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl, just relax for me yeah?” you gave a jerky nod of your head, watched steve hook his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slowly tug them down. he kept his eyes on yours the whole time, even when he dipped his head and kissed the inner side of your knee, soft and comforting. “tell me if you want me to stop.” he repeated and despite the hunger raging low in your belly you couldn’t stop the swell of affection in your heart at his words. you nodded again and reached for one of his hands, locking your fingers through his and squeezing.

you’d propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, wanting to watch steve as his lips brushed over your inner thigh, his hair tickling against your sensitive skin and your thighs tensed on either side of his head when he pressed a feather light kiss to your clit. he looked at you from beneath his lashes, another kiss sending a surge of longing and desire up your spine.

“thought about this so much, y’know, ‘bout how good you’d taste, all the pretty noises you’d make. drove me fucking insane.” he mumbled and you let out a soft gasp at the way his bottom lip caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves. before you had the chance to say anything, to beg him to finally touch you, his tongue met your skin, gave one bold swipe from your already dripping hole to your clit and you fell back into the mattress. steve kept his hand in yours and ran his thumb comfortingly over your skin, his other hand pressed to your thigh in order to keep you open for him.

his tongue made quick work over you, flicking softly at your clit, lapping at your hole as he groaned at the taste of you, nose bumping deliciously into your clit. your body was tensing within minutes, thighs attempting to close around steve’s head as pleasure curled in your tummy, numbed your mind. you pressed your head back into his pillow, free hand reaching to grip his hair and your lips fell open, quiet moans spilling into the room. steve groaned low in his chest when you pushed his head further into you and attempted to roll your hips, chasing the orgasm that was only minutes away.

it wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself before, countless make out sessions with steve had resulted in you going home and taking care of yourself but this was different. it had never felt this good, this electric before, your entire body was wracked with pleasure, clit pulsing when steve sucked it into his mouth and your moans turned to whines, your back arching from the bed. he teased the bud with his teeth, kept his lips wrapped around it and sucked hard, his hand leaving your thigh so he could tease two fingers at your hole. you were already so wet, so worked up that they slid in knuckle deep without resistance, your surprised moan like music to steve’s ears.

“oh fuck.” you clenched down around his fingers, they were so much bigger than yours, thicker, longer, could reach sensitive spots that yours couldn’t. spots that had stars dancing behind your eyelids when your eyes fell closed. your grip on his hair was tight, hips rising from the bed as the sounds of his fingers entering you mixed in the air with your moans.

“doing okay, princess?” you could only nod, whining when he increased the pace of his fingers, curling them up to press against your walls. he was stretching you out, prepping you for his cock and your head spun as you revelled in the pleasure his thick length could bring if this was how his fingers felt. he flicked the very tip of his tongue over your clit, swirled it a little before lifting his head. “tell me how it feels.”

“so good, god, so good steve.”

“yeah? taking my fingers so well, can feel you squeezing them, you gonna cum?”

“yeah, oh my god. m’so close.” steve had dived back in, lips and tongue against your clit, fingers twisting and scissoring inside of you, working you open and towards you orgasm. it was dangling over you, thighs shaking on either side of his head, your fingers squeezing lightly at his while your head turned, face buried in his pillow. the coil in your tummy was ready to snap, pleasure burning inside of you and the continuous fluttering of your pussy had steve fucking you harder with his fingers. it sounded dirty and sinful, your wetness dripping messily out of you, down his wrist and on to his sheets.

“there you go, baby, i’ve got you. god you look so fucking pretty when you cum, wanna watch you forever.” your orgasm hit you like a truck, hard and all at once, a high keening moan of steve’s name and a few curses tumbling from your lips. your clit throbbed against his tongue, pussy squeezing his fingers tight as he leisurely pumped them in and out of you, riding out your high with slow careful licks. your thighs had closed around him, your fingers locked in his hair and it took a few seconds before you let him go, body relaxing as you sank back into his sheets.

your chest heaved and everywhere was overly sensitive, your skin still prickling with aftershocks of pleasure and you whined when steve pulled his fingers from you. they were drenched in your cum and as he sat up between your still slightly shaky legs you watched him suck them between his lips, suckling softly to clean them. something reacted inside of you, a carnal need for him taking over and you reached for him, tugging him down to slot your lips together. steve hummed softly, licked into your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue made your skin hot.

“are you okay?” he pulled away a little, meeting your eyes, fingers brushing beneath your eye, pushing the hair back off your face. despite his jeans you could feel how hard he was, cock pressing into you and you so badly needed to feel him inside of you.

“i’m more than okay, steve.” he smiled at that, nuzzled his nose against your cheek and turned to pressing kisses into your jaw. he was aching in his jeans, cock pulsing, desperate to feel you wrapped around him but he didn’t want to push, didn’t want you to think you had to go all the way. you knew he was hesitating, taking his time instead to kiss new marks into your throat and he groaned a little when your hands fumbled with his belt.

“we don’t have to, if you’re not ready. we can wait.” he dragged his kisses across your cheek until his mouth hovered over yours, his lashes fluttering when you finally unbuckled his belt and moved on to his button.

“i’m ready, i don’t wanna wait anymore.” when steve didn’t make a move to help with with his jeans, his lips just floating over your cheek you paused, worry trickling through your chest. “unless you don’t want to then we can wait.” his head shake was almost aggressive, a disbelieving breathless laugh washing over your skin before he propped himself up on his elbows, soft eyes on yours. he looked more than a little messy and you wondered if you looked just as bad, kiss bitten lips and sex strewn hair.

“i want to, you have no idea how badly i want to but i don’t wanna rush you if you’re not ready. i want you to be one hundred percent sure, y’know? i don’t want you to regret it.”

"steve," you brushed your fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp and lifted to press a kiss to his mouth. "i want this with you, one hundred percent. i don't wanna wait anymore because it's driving me crazy and,” you kissed him again, sweet and tender, not as lust driven as your previous ones. “there’s nothing i could do with you that i’d regret.” a tint filtered over his cheeks, soft and subtle and he brushed his lips with your own, catching your mouth in another scathing, heart pounding kiss.

“god, i got so fucking lucky with you.” one of his hands joined yours and you both worked his button open, the sound of his zipper being dragged down making your pulse spike with anticipation. steve parted from your lips to wriggle out of his jeans and underwear, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull clatter thanks to the belt, and then slowly lowered himself back over you, trailing his fingers up your side.

“i’ll go slow, okay? you can tell me if it’s too much and i’ll stop.” he kissed your cheek, grazed his knuckles over the skin on the underside of your boob and a different kind of heat bloomed in your chest. a heat made from love and adoration, of comfort and warmth and home. the reassuring tone of his voice made your heart skip, a smile tugging the corners of your lips.

“i know, do you, uh- do you have a condom?” steve froze above you, a brief look of panic filtering into his features and your heart dropped, disappointment swirling inside of you. you weren’t on any form of contraception and as much as you trusted steve you didn’t exactly trust his reflexes to be fast enough to pull out. you blinked and let out a breath and then steve grinned, bumped your nose with a quiet laugh.

“just kidding, i’ve got a box.”

“idiot.” you frowned and pinched his side as he leant his upper body over to his nightstand, satisfied when he yelped. he rifled through the drawer, pulled out a little blue packet and you huffed a sigh when he teasingly tapped it against your cheek.

“should’ve seen your face,” he was grinning, propped above you with that cocky, smug look on his face and you had to hold back your eye roll. “like i’d just told you i’d stolen your dog, want me bad huh?” you shook your head, ignoring his comment as you watched him place the condom packet between his teeth. your pussy clenched, a flood of heat settling between your thighs when he tore it open and you realised you were about to feel him completely for the first time. giddy anticipation filled you but the way you glanced at him was all shy fluttery lashes.

“can i do it?” he paused, condom in hand, packet fluttering to the floor and glanced down at you.

“you wanna put it on?” you only nodded and steve smiled, letting you take it from him. “just gotta roll it on yeah? it’s-” his words fell short, a soft hiss sounding from him when your fingers settled soft on his tip. both of you watched you roll the condom down him, his stomach clenching when your fist tightened to make sure it was placed right. he was achingly hard, bigger and thicker than you’d expected but still it was only desire and excitement that thrummed through you, your blood singing with pleasure already.

steve shifted, waited a few seconds as you ran your hands up his arms, locked them around his neck and pressed the tip to your hole, just barely pushing it in. his forehead was against yours, lips almost touching and he paused for a second. “relax for me, okay? gonna take care of you.” you nodded and then he was pushing his hips forward, burying himself into you slowly, inch by inch as your breath caught. the whimper you let out as he brushed against your walls had steve moaning softly, his head spinning at finally being inside you. you were still so wet, slick from your previous orgasm and he faced very little issues filling you up, only stopping once he was pressed completely to the hilt.

you were wrapped so tight, so snug around him, had swallowed his cock so easily and you watched him struggle to keep composure, his lashes fluttering. the stretch was slightly painful, you felt a little too full, could almost feel him in your stomach but the tiny pricks of pleasure at your spine was enough to have you shifting beneath him. he didn’t move at first, kept still, one hand clamped on your hip, the other pressed beside your head for leverage. his warm breath fanned your lips as he stroked your thigh, hooked it up and over his hip and you gasped when it had him pushing impossibly deeper into you.

“we doing okay, pretty girl?”

“yeah, yeah you’re just-” you lifted your hips, grinding up against him for that well needed stimulation to your clit and it made steve moan, quiet but enough to make your pussy flutter around his cock. “just so big.” his laugh was breathless and a little ragged, his cheeks flushing at the compliment, cock twitching as it almost begged for him to finally fuck you.

“you can take it, know you can.”

“yeah, i can take it. you can move, steve, please.”

“i’ll take it slow remember? you can tell me what you like.” you could only nod at that because he’d drawn his hips back, pulled almost completely out of you before pushing back in, pumping into you with slow, drawn out movements. he was so gentle, kept the hand that had been on your thigh, on the side of your face, cupped your jaw lightly so he could bring you in for toe curling kisses.

the first few moments were uncomfortable, your body not used to it but the pain quickly faded into heart trembling pleasure, your fingers tightening in his hair. he didn’t shift his pace, just kept filling you up slowly, each thrust of his cock stretching you all the more perfectly. he was hitting spots so deep, rubbing your walls as you clenched around him, lips parting as moans started to filter through them. he’d angled his hips so each pump would have his pubic bone grinding against your clit, the pleasure from that alone almost blinding.

steve couldn’t seem to get control of himself, he’d tucked his face away in your neck, tangled one hand with yours and his kisses were messy, broken up by his moans and soft grunts. your walls sucked around him, tried to keep him from leaving and he gave an extra hard thrust, one that jolted you up the bed, letting out a surprised whimper as your squeezed his hand.

“sorry, fuck, m’sorry you’re just so tight.”

“want it harder.” you wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, pulled him a little closer and what little thread of self control he had, snapped, his hips bucking harsher into yours. “oh god, steve, just like that.”

“jesus, you’re fucking perfect. taking my cock so well, baby, doing so good for me.” he whispered praises into your ear, about how good you felt, how well you were doing for him and it made your head spin, your fingers tugging at his hair. he fucked you down into the mattress, his thrusts growing a little faster as you teetered a little closer to your orgasm. his cock almost pounded into you, filling you completely before pulling out, the tip kissing against spots you didn’t even know were there, spots that made you dizzy, made your moans a little louder.

you were gripping him so tight, clenching a little harder when he pumped his cock a little faster and he knew you were close, could see it taking over your face and body. he shifted slightly, brought his lips to slant over yours, his thumb finding your clit. you whined when he started rubbing tight circles over it, his thrusts not faltering even when you started to unravel around him. your body tensed, thighs shaking ever so slightly and steve groaned at how tight you’d gotten, his own need to cum almost overwhelming.

“good girl, that’s it, need you to cum for me, baby. c’mon show me how good it is and cum on my cock.” it hit you so fast and sudden, your head tipping away from steve’s lips, back arching until your chest was pressed flush to his, whimpers and moans of his name filling the stuffy air. steve fucked you through it, brushed his fingers through your hair and mumbled how well you’d done, how perfect you were.

his thumb left your overly sensitive clit, hand gripping your hip instead and he gave a few sloppy, erratic thrusts, hips faltering as his stomach tensed. he came with a low groan, one that sent ripples of pleasure through you and made your already pulsing hole, tighten around him even more. he spilled into the condom, hid his face back in your neck as his thrusts got slower. he pushed into you a few more times, not wanting to leave your warm snug walls despite the fact he was just as sensitive as you were.

steve let himself relax on top of you, breath hot and sticky against your neck as your both fought to come down from your somewhat intense orgasms. you were warm and a little sweaty, every part of your body a little too sensitive even as he brushed his fingers up and down your arm. you were both quiet, fighting for breath and you whimpered when steve pulled out of you, a strange empty feeling taking over. he pushed up on to his elbows, met your eyes and sent you a lopsided, tired smile. he was sweaty, cheeks flushed, hair messy and you wanted to pull him in for a kiss, wanted to push him on to his back and fuck him until you couldn’t walk.

“are you okay? you’re not- you’re not hurt or anything? it was alright?”

“i’m perfect, steve, you were perfect.” you kissed him, grinned brightly as you pushed his hair back off his forehead. “i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to get enough of you.”

“oh really?” he laughed, tickled his fingers into your side as you giggled and shuffled beneath him, heart swelling as he pressed kiss after kiss to your face. “i’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” the playfulness fell away, his nose rubbing lightly over yours, his gaze tender. “but it can wait, need to get you cleaned up. you might be a little sore, i think i might have been a bit too hard but i can run us a bath and you can relax and we’ll watch that movie?” the kiss he dropped to your forehead was all affection, clear adoration in his face and his tone.

“sounds amazing, stevie.”

#stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #joe keery #joe keery fic #joe keery one shot #joe keery fluff #joe keery smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #joe keery x reader

[illyabata]

scars are A Thing™ with wriothesley and nobody can convince me otherwise, idc if there is zero mention of his scars or their meaning when he comes out idc it’s my permanent headcanon that scars and their stories are simply entangled with his character idc

so now i give you: wriothesley who is fascinated by your scars

tw: discussion of scars lol, but in no way do i indicate their origin unless it’s stretch marks. however if talk of scars at all is triggering to you, dont read!! it’s sweet fluffy stuff, but that doesn’t matter if it will trigger you. please take care :)

sfw, big brainrot under cut

theyre so much smaller than his, more delicate, just like you. doesnt matter if compared to other people you are big or tall, he’s such a big guy that he makes you feel small no matter your size or height. and no matter what your scars look like to you, to him they are beautiful. to him they are delicate.

he’s enamored by all of your scars no matter their origin—stretch marks, however, seem to intrigue him the most of all. he’s absolutely transfixed by them, and you can never understand why. he’s simply mesmerized by the way the blemished skin stretches as he thumbs and presses it, watching the discoloration flatten itself only to bloat back when he leaves it alone. for some reason he just seems so puzzled by the concept of natural scarring of the body; nothing had happened to harm you for these to appear—they’re simply the product of change, your skin either going through rapid periods of expanding or shrinking. he thinks they’re pretty.

he’d spend so long just running his rough fingers over your skin, absorbed in the feeling of the puckered tissue under his own blemished hands. whether the scars are stretch marks or from something else, he loves them, he loves you.

this might sound weird but i just like to imagine you both spend time gently tracing each others’ scars as comfort, like it sounds weird in words but it makes sense i promise. there is something intimate and fascinating about scars, no matter what they’re from; it’s truly like the language of your body’s history, a record of what has occurred. you can resent them or be proud of them, it really depends on the person and situation—but regardless, scars are always a record, and that is a constant no matter the person.

and if you’re not comfortable with that level of touch or that much attention on your scars, that is absolutely okay. he’s not going to make you uncomfortable, he’ll always ask if it’s okay before he looks at or touches them—or touches you at all, really. he never wants to hurt you. and if you say you’d rather he not touch your scars, he’ll understand and just show you he loves you—all of you—in some other way.

like idk about anyone else or if its just me and im fucking insane but sometimes i get lost looking at my own scars; sometimes the human body at work is just kind of fascinating to watch, and even more so in retrospect. it’s like holy fuck you’re looking at its handiwork, you can plainly see how the skin has been so masterfully rebuilt into this little woven bandaid of cells, carefully crafted to not only rebuild but protect. your body has looked after itself, and it will continue to do so. and thats just kind of a fascinating thing to me idk😭

some extra thoughts about scars, not really to do with wrio; red brackets will indicate the end of it if you want to skip: [[ it usually replaces any feeling of disgust i have because instead of focusing on the bad feeling of remembering where they came from or being sad at the way they look im able to think about how cool it is the way my body recovered and made my skin even stronger; it didnt just wipe it all away and give me a clean slate so i could forget, it pieced the cells together again bit by bit until it had not only replaced the wound but enforced it—so instead of forgetting the bad feelings, they were replaced by wonder. sort of like a sign that says “proof that where once there was pain, now there is strength”. it’s kind of like how they say you don’t just try to quit bad habits, you must replace the bad habit with a good one. you can replace the bad feelings associated with your scars with new feelings, whether they are good feelings or neutral feelings or meh feelings. ]]

before you, he understood scars to be an ugly thing—a source of shame, a show for others to marvel at if he left them uncovered, for them to ogle at and whisper about as if trying to guess the origin of the wounds was a sort of entertainment to them. and then in the fortress of meropide, his scars felt much less like a source of shame and more like an intimidation factor (which wasn’t something he necessarily felt good about, but it was something that he benefitted from as the duke). but when you came along and he began to know you, suddenly they were this beautiful, fascinating phenomenon that lead him to view his own scars in a different light.

he’s a powerful, strong man, yes. he’s intimidating and feared, but he is also loved, and all for good reason—he is solid and safe, an image of reliability to others. and sometimes it could weigh him down when he couldn’t seem to let another help carry the burden.

the way you made him feel, though, tracing his big ugly scars like they were rivers, like they weren’t repulsive—it changed him entirely, and it changed the way he saw himself. in the overworld, he was a criminal brute slathered in the proof of his savageness. in the fortress, he was the rock-solid standard for redemption, and he had to uphold his firm reputation. but with you, he was able to be fragile; with you, the walls he had built to protect himself from both sides of fontaine’s society came tumbling down, because he didn’t have to pretend when he was with you.

if such a small, sweet thing like you could see him in such a kind light with so much love in those eyes of yours, perhaps he was not so bad after all.

everyone else in all of teyvat could believe he was truly a bad guy like he sometimes enjoyed playing at—but it wouldn’t matter, because there you were in his bed every night, held fast in his big arms as you mindlessly traced the long, thin writings engraved in his skin, letting the stories they told lull you to sleep.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact #wrio x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin wriothesley #genshin x reader #mbj.write

[readychilledwine]

You and I

Lose You to Love Me Pt 2

Summary - After running away to the Winter Court, reader has let go of most of her hope that she and Azriel will be able to be together.

Warnings - implied rebound smut, angst

A/n - so sorry this was delayed 💜

Peep Lose You to Love Me here

You sprawled the bed you shared with Kal, eyes shut tightly as you snuggled into his chest and the blanket.

You had left the Night Court three months ago, and were hidden well into the Mountain House. You hadn't originally planned for this though. The feeling of cold fingers tracing your spine, the feeling of soft lips against your forehead. 

Viv had left him for Mor moments before your arrival, and in a state of need, desperation, sadness, Kal had taken you to his bed. 

And it just simply never stopped. 

In fact, his closet now held half of your things, your body products sat in his bathroom, your scent covered his sheets. 

To be fair, the soft scent of snow and pine lingered on you. His clothing had began to dominate your wardrobe. His voice had become a source of happiness.

You both knew this was nothing compared to the bliss you had with your mates, but it was still bliss. Joy you both had thought you wouldn't find and didn't deserve. 

“Why are you up already, snowflake?” He opened his icy eyes, looking down at you before placing a soft kiss in your head. “I know you are anxious, but Rhysand is coming to speak with us, not to rip you away.” Kallias was observant, you could not deny that. He always knew what worried you, what was on your mind, what you needed. 

“It's not Rhys I'm worried about,” you leaned further into his hard chest, lacing your fingers with his before you continued. “It's seeing Azriel. And you having to see Viv.”

Kal hummed, “Would you like me to distract your mind from that, or do you need to feel?” 

“Distract me.”

Kal had you dressed in a beautiful white gown with gems falling from the bodice to the skirts like snow. You were both waiting patiently, sipping a pear wine as you sat near a fire and he stood staring out a window with his hands behind his back. You almost jumped as the guards opened the doors, allowing Rhysand and Feyre in. Allowing Cassian and Mor in. Allowing Azriel and Viv in. 

They didn't approach you two, not with guards clearly placed for protection. Kal was quickly at your side, placing a hand on your shoulder when Azriel moved to come to you. “I would suggest letting your high lord handle this, Spymaster.” Kal inclined his head to the table, watching as they all took seats and took the head chair closest to you. “Are your questions answered? She is clearly healthy.” 

Rhys nodded, looking you over. “Come home. Please.” He was going straight for it. Mindset on a mission. “Nyx misses you. I miss you.”

“We all miss you,” Feyre said softly. 

You shook your head, finding Kallias’s hand under the table and feeling him give you a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “You hardly even spoke to me in the months leading to my departure.” Rhys flinched at the reminder that he had pushed you away all on his own. 

He would have normally straightened up, kept pushing his wants, his narrative. He would have normally defended himself, but he couldn't. He just nodded. “I know, and I am sorry.” 

You could feel Viv's stare and turned to Kal, “It's okay.” His jaw tightened, eyes flashing to you before going back to her. “Go.” They both stood, leaving the room with the guards behind them to go talk somewhere privately. 

“Does he love you,” Cassian asked quietly. “Does he make you happy?”

“As happy as he can. He cares for me-”

“But he doesn't love you,” Azriel quickly interrupted. “You're settling for a male who doesn't love you.” 

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Leave.” He turned to all of them, including his own wife. “Go to your chambers for the night and leave us.” 

“No,” Azriel growled. “She's my mate.”

Rhys shot the two of you a look, his eyes wide before staring solely at you. “Y/n, can we go somewhere alone?”

You just nodded, standing and waiting for Rhys to round the table and take your arm. You snuggled into him when he did, but froze as a scarred hand grabbed your upper bicep. “I meant every word,” azriel dropped his hold on you, sitting back down and tucking his wings around himself like a defensive shield. 

Rhys allowed you to led him to your untouched room. He instantly noted how empty it was, how stale it smelled, how the sheets were fresh, but the bed help no signs of ypu ever having been in it. “Show me,” his voice broke. “Show me every moment where I failed you. Show me how to fix this.” 

You shook your head, teeth holding your bottom lip in place as tears began to fall. “It wasn't just you, Rhys. I felt unneeded and unwanted,” he visibly flinched. “By everyone. You have Feyre, Cassian has Nesta, Lucien had his own friends. Azriel-” your throat tightened again, looking to the ceiling you took a deep breath and continued. “Azriel had Elain. Amren found Varian. Fuck even Mor somehow stole Viv from Kal.”

Rhysand dropped the news that shattered you slightly. “Viv and Mor are no longer together. Viv realized her actions were incredibly stupid, that she loves Kallias, that having been with only one romantic partner wasn't a bad thing. She's here to ask him if she can come home.” 

You nodded. “He will tell her yes.” 

Rhysand moved closer. “Leaving you where, little moonbeam? What does that leave here for you?” The answer was nothing and you both knew that. You knew how deep that childhood friends to lovers to mates bond ran between the two of them. 

The High Lord of Winter loved you, but he would never love you the way he loves his mate, his wife, the queen of his world.

Just as you would never love him the way you loved Azriel. You should never find you soul singing for him the way it did when just the scent of cedar and chilled air floated into a room. You would never have butterflies for him the way you do Azriel. You would never ignite for him the way Azriel made you burn. 

“What happened between you and Azriel?”

The question hung in the air like a noose waiting to destroy you both. “After Solstice we,” you looked up again, caving and dropping your shields to allow Rhysand in. 

His jaw tightened slightly, looking away from you. “He does love you,” rhysand moved towards the untouched bed. “When our first letters to meet with you were met with silence, and then rejection, Azriel threw himself so deeply into his work Cassian and I began to worry.”

“I love him too,” the confession was silent and instantly met with hands grabbing your upper arms from behind, and a soft comfort scent. Rhysand moved to leave the room, presumably going back to the meeting room. “Did you mean it?”

“Every word. I meant every word. Every kiss.” He wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding tightly as you relaxed into him. “You are my first thought at sunrise, my lady thought when exhaustion forces me into sleep. Even there you haunt me, your voice. Your eyes. Your kindness. Sometimes I wake up and my mind is convinced you were there and that I can still smell you on my pillows.”

Your heartbeat increased at his words, mind swirling. “Kallias and Viv have not left her chambers, guards informed us we are welcome to head to our rooms, but the High Lord and Lady will not be leaving hers tonight.” You smiled at their happy ending coming back once again. “None of us thought that would last.”

“How could it,” you turned in his arms, moving to lace yours around his neck. “Some things are simply meant to be.”

“Things like you and I,”” Azriel held your eye contact, hazel eyes pleading. “Even if one of us was blind to that at first?”

You nodded, meeting him in the middle, knowing he didn't realize what he was doing. “Exactly like you and I.”

Azriel didn't hesitate, pulling you into a deep kiss. One that sealed itself like a promise on both of your hearts.

It was you and him, from here until time stood still.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel x rhysands sister! reader #Spotify

[elspethdekarios]

Random Gale Dekarios Headcanons

Hello I'm just thinking about That Man again

These are all SFW and just mundane life-after-tadpole thoughts.

Gale's home is clean but he is messy. The dishes are done, scented candles are lit, linens are laundered, but my man's got shit everywhere. Parchment, books, and quills are scattered in the areas he finds himself working in most often. Potion bottles in disarray. Random trinkets throughout the house. Grooming products cluttering the bathroom sink. He's very diligent about making his bed every morning, though.

Once he and tav have settled down post-game, his favorite thing to do is surprise them with breakfast in bed. He gets up extra early and goes all out on creating a tray of food--making their favorite tea, eggs exactly how they like them (extra butter, though, always), pancakes or some sort of pastry he can whip up quickly, and a vase holding a flower plucked from the window planter. He does this at least once a tenday.

Gale was worried his tower would be in the same depression-mess state as he left it once he brought tav home. He spent the journey home apologizing in advance for the disarray and promising that he's not a slob, he swears, it was just a difficult time. Tav, of course, assures him that there's no need to apologize, and that they'll help him clean the place up once they get there. Once they arrive, he cringes as he opens the front door, only to be taken aback by his home looking perfectly normal and clean. A grin spreads across his face as Tara stretches from her cushion in the window. ("Honestly, Mr. Dekarios, did you think I'd continue to live in such a state?")

He carries around a small portrait of tav in his pocket. Origin of this hc here lol

I know in the epilogue, the orb and all traces of it are completely gone, but I like to think that it left a scar. In certain lighting you can see that it's not just on his skin like a tattoo, but it's almost carved into his flesh, like a scar. I'm sure Mystra could smooth the skin where the orb was like it never happened, but we all know she's a petty bitch, so I think it's reasonable to think she could have taken the scar away, but chose to leave it as a reminder of Gale's mistake. The dark, weaving swirls have turned pale pink and translucent. Tav likes to mindlessly run their fingers over it while they lie in bed at night.

Speaking of, you cannot tell me the orb doesn't leave Gale with some sort of chronic pain, even after it's cured. I'm sure it's not as intense as the arcane hunger he felt before, but there are bound to be days where he's just very lethargic or dealing with lingering pain/discomfort similar to what he felt before the orb was dormant.

On a lighter note--he always has music playing in his home. Whether it's the piano in his study or an enchanted lyre he's charmed to float around in the kitchen as he cooks.

#gale #bg3 #gale headcanons #text

[sjweminem]

Baby Academy Hoffman & Professor Strahm (ft. FTM hoffman ❤️) fic FINISHED

18+!!!! 🔞🔞🔞

short excerpt to (hopefully..) pique some interest:

"i'm not stupid," strahm declared, now seated relaxedly in his chair. "and i don't think you are either." mark felt heat rising in his face and prayed he wasn't becoming visibly flushed, but the cheeky smile which spread across his teacher's face suggested otherwise. "but," strahm continued, "you're not exactly subtle, you know that?" mark stood firmly in place. "i don't know what you mean," he replied with all the courage he could muster.

original inspo: this ask

(DISCLAIMER: i am skilled mainly in technical/academic/speech writing and haven't written a fic in like 14 years so please be gentle 😭)

admittedly he was distracted. as usual. mark tolerated most classes in the academy as obligatory lessons to endure in order to, some day, achieve his dream of working in homicide, but for now he was stuck with all the other twenty-somethings learning the basics of police work, seemingly over and over again. well. at least he had something to keep his mind occupied during this lesson in particular. however repetitive the coursework may be, mark couldn't deny the eager anticipation he felt upon entering professor strahm's lecture.

mark could watch those hands for hours, even at the expense of learning whatever new information might unexpectedly, miraculously, be introduced in yet another of his many repetitive classes. he followed those hands- his instructor was one for dramatic gesticulations- and willed himself not to imagine how they might feel on his body. willing, however, not necessarily implying success. no, mark still, despite his best efforts, frequently stared until his imagination led to thoughts of those strong-looking palms at his throat, gripping his thighs, perhaps tracing his lips with a rough finger before shoving the others into his mouth.

suddenly the bell rang, indicating the lecture's end, and, once again, mark realized his complete failure to pay attention or take any notes whatsoever. maybe this little crush was getting out of hand. but how was he supposed to pay attention when strahm seemed to regularly, coyly, meet his eyes mid-lesson, in a stare that felt so unmistakably provocative- appealingly domineering, even- and surely was not wholly imagined, not a product of wishful thinking. no, he was certain that if only they could get each other alone...

"hoffman," an unmistakeable voice cut through the silence of the now-empty classroom, just as mark was headed for the door. there was always something about strahm calling him by his last name that tickled him, although he couldn't fully place why. perhaps it was the possessiveness in his voice. "stay back for a minute or two, yeah?" the request sent a small wave of panic through his body. he swallowed hard; surely he was facing a chewing-out for his increasingly noticeable disinterest in, and distraction from, the course subject matter. his nerves only intensified as he observed his professor rise back up from behind the desk and walk towards the door, at which mark was frozen in place.

his nerves fell away momentarily when strahm closed the door in front of them, replaced suddenly by an onslaught of confusion. however these waves of emotion were superseded by something unidentifiable when he heard the distinct sound of the door being locked. his heart raced. strahm was mere inches away from mark now, standing several inches above him, looking slightly downwards with a smile. "lunch hour," he said in a low, near-whisper. "no one's coming to look for me. or you, i'm assuming." mark shook his head, nervously, in affirmation. strahm looked him up and down, conspicuously, before breaking the tiny distance between them in order to walk back behind his desk. he made a casual "come here" motion with his hand as he did so.

"i'm not stupid," strahm declared, now seated relaxedly in his chair. "and i don't think you are either." mark felt heat rising in his face and prayed he wasn't becoming visibly flushed, but the cheeky smile which spread across his teacher's face suggested otherwise. "but," strahm continued, "you're not exactly subtle, you know that?" mark stood firmly in place. "i don't know what you mean," he replied with all the courage he could muster, trying to maintain eye contact. strahm briefly tilted his head back and laughed before looking mark back in the eye with increased intensity. mark could have sworn there was suggestiveness in that stare. sworn it wasn't his own wishful thinking.

"sure," strahm retorted, dismissively, before making a "come over" motion with his hand, beckoning his student to his side of the desk. mark swallowed hard again, making his way behind his professor's workstation. that flush he had prayed earlier hadn't made its way to his cheeks now felt unmistakably present. that heat in his face only deepened when he felt strahm grip his shirt collar, pulling him closer. with their faces now mere centimeters apart, mark felt a hand on his chin- one of the very hands about which he had spent so many classes fantasizing. strahm held him by the jaw to turn his face to the side. he proceeded to lean in close, lips brushing his student's ear. "don't play dumb," he whispered. "you're not good at it."

mark's lips parted as his breath hitched, a visible shudder running down his spine. strahm took the opportunity, this momentary weakness, to grab him by the sides and pull him into his lap. mark sat, straddling him, legs on either side of his professor's. immediately strahm took the opportunity to run a finger over is needy little pupil's full lips, then pulled mark in even closer to move in for a kiss, but not before biting his lower lip, eliciting from him a half gasp-half moan. mark opened his mouth eagerly, allowing strahm to take full control of the kiss. several times he had to wonder if he was dreaming, however his teacher's hands on his hips and thighs felt all too real.

strahm thumbed at the waistband of mark's pants, brazen enough to undo his belt buckle with one hand. mark shivered despite himself and unconsciously spread his legs further to the sides. his eyes were now closed, but at the sound of a zipper they shot back open. oh shit. shit. he forgot to tell- should he have told? how was he supposed to remember under these circumstances? he shifted nervously but made no attempt to remove himself. he was in it now, for better or worse. a hand- that large, strong hand, god help him- made its way under his now open fly and below the waist of his boxer-briefs. he shuddered, despite himself. a look of confusion painted strahm's face as he reached lower but, to mark's relief, his confounded expression fell away, replaced by that coy smile.

"well isn't this interesting," strahm spoke in a low, half-whisper. he ran his fingers through the wetness that had by now undoubtedly soaked through the fabric of mark's underwear. his student barely had time to process the sensation before he felt two long fingers push roughly inside him, followed soon after by a third. "never really took you for a whore," strahm teased, "but, shit. this wet already, i don't know what else to call you." he was smiling and looking up into mark's eyes as he slid his fingers in and out. mark's eyes fluttered shut, breathing labored, sounds he desperately tried to suppress now escaping his parted lips. it was already too much, the precision finger-fucking, but when strahm began to thumb at his clit during his efforts mark felt the little control he had left fall to pieces. he gripped the chair's armrests and buried his face in the crook of the other man's neck, more whining than moaning.

"i should report you for this, you know," the young cadet breathed out with all the strength he could muster. strahm laughed, increasing the intensity of his ministrations. "and will that be before or after you come, hm? before or after i fuck you like you need?" there was a brief silence. "i- i guess," mark replied with an audible shudder, "i can... i can wait 'till after." "good boy," strahm praised. "tight little thing, too." mark lost himself; control and self-respect flying out the window all thanks to the skilled hand of his teacher. "i can take it," he insisted. "take you. anything." he couldn't even care that he sounded desperate by this point.

"anything," strahm repeated suggestively. without warning he removed his fingers and inserted them roughly into mark's mouth, nearly gagging him. "clean up this mess you made," he continued, "and maybe i'll think about fucking you." mark didn't need to be told twice. he sucked each finger clean, tasting himself on each one, maintaining eye contact the whole time. once strahm evidently deemed his ministrations satisfactory he abruptly pulled his hand away from mark's mouth, earning a choked gasp from the young man, and grabbed him by the hips. he eased him off of his lap in order to stand up and once again face his desk, which he cleared of papers and supplies with two swipes of his arm, files and teaching tools rattling to the floor. just as abruptly he grabbed mark's waist- much more firmly than necessary- until he had brought him into a sitting position atop his work surface. now the height difference wasn't so glaring, and as strahm once again gripped mark's jaw to bring the eager student into a kiss, it was as though their lips fit much more nicely together. this kiss, compared to the last, was far more desperate, hungrier. overflowing with need from both parties.

strahm deepened the kiss to forcefully push mark back until he was lying flush atop the desk, his teacher's arms braced domineeringly by each side of his head. strahm moved lower to kiss his jawline, his neck, before pulling back to crouch between mark's legs. impatiently he pulled both shoes off in order to yank his pants the rest of the way down, and ultimately off. mark's heart raced from a mixture of anticipation and exposure. his thundering pulse only spiked further when he felt strahm's tongue on his cunt, dragging its way up to tease his clit. mark swallowed the moan rising up in his throat. "i wish we were somewhere more private," his professor spoke quietly between licks. "want to hear you." he buried his face back between mark's legs before the young cadet could reply. truthfully it was becoming harder and harder not to be heard.

despite strahm's admission there was something about the semi-public aspect of their affair that both parties rather enjoyed. yes, the locked door freed them from worry over any intrusion, but it wasn't as though no one could be right outside. at the thought mark became acutely aware of his labored breathing, as well as the moans which insisted on escaping his throat despite his best efforts. his thoughts were cut short by strahm's low voice. "i'm a man of my word, he said. "i thought about fucking you... seems doable." mark gasped briefly. "please" was all he could say.

strahm stood up to hover over his supine student and reached for his belt buckle. mark thought he was going to pass out, but perked back up, hearing the zipper. he felt a sudden heat blossom low inside him as strahm took his cock out, moaning softly at the sight- god help him he was big. mark was already lost in thought over how good he must feel when he felt strahm slide the tip of his cock slowly up and down his slick cunt. mark shivered and arched his back, further spreading his legs invitingly, parting his full lips in an enticing manner. soon enough he felt strahm push in.

mark inhaled deeply at the sensation and strahm wasted no time pushing all the way in. mark buried his face in the crook of his neck, hands reaching up and around to claw at his professor's shirt, fingernails digging into his muscular back. he threw his head back as strahm leaned down to kiss and bite his throat, stopping to put a hand around it, keeping him in place. his other hand gripped mark's upper thigh. mark groaned, barely believing that what he had fantasized about nearly every day had become a reality. he couldn't control the sharp moans escaping his lips as strahm's thick cock hit and dragged against his G-spot with every thrust. truthfully he felt a bit embarrassed- there was no way he could last. not for any respectable amount of time, anyways. fortunately for his ego, judging by his labored breathing his teacher wasn't far behind.

"son of a bitch. i've been missing out on your pussy all this time, huh?" strahm exhaled. "it's only fair," mark retorted breathlessly. "been missing out on your dick, after all." he noticed himself tightening around the cock inside him, desperate to feel anything and everything. strahm groaned at the sensation, lowering his head to plant another desperate kiss on his student's perfect mouth. mark could taste himself again on his tongue and his breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. he could feel himself getting closer, that unmistakeable, throbbing heat between his legs. "professor... mr. strahm," mark breathed out as seductively as he could, "i'm- i can't," he continued in a whimper. strahm looked him in the eye. "go on, baby," he half-whispered, "hard as you can. let me feel you."

the pet name sent mark over the edge, clawing at strahm's back and burying his face in his neck in an attempt to muffle the noises he was now helpless to control. "that's it," strahm whispered, "that's it. good boy." mark nearly sobbed as he felt the shudder run through the older man's body before he came shortly after. mark swore he could feel the heat of it fill him up and moaned at the sensation. "you like that, sweetheart?" strahm panted into his ear. mark nodded eagerly, unable to even make a coherent sound at this point. he whined again as his teacher pulled out, bracing himself atop his student once more to place kisses on his neck and lower stomach. they both rode out their high as they steadied their breathing together, taking their time. mark couldn't help but smile, placing his hands on strahm's face to pull him in for one last tender kiss before they both redressed. mark would never admit it but he was looking forward to feeling his teacher's cum inside him for the rest of the day.

the tone changed suddenly; strahm backed up with a look of concern on his face. "wait," he began. "you... you can't get pregnant, can you?"

mark laughed at his nervousness and shook his head with a smile.

#mark hoffman #peter strahm #hoffstrahm #coffinshipping #saw #I DON'T KNOW HOW NOT TO WRITE AUTISTICALLY

[thebramblewood]

Lilith and Caleb Vatore's lineage can be traced to Tartosa, from where their forebears emigrated in the early 1800s to establish Willow Creek's first and finest vineyard and winery. The future heirs to the Vatore Family Vineyard (and fortune) were born scarcely two years apart on the cusp of the 20th century. Although lauded and adored by polite society, they quietly resisted cultural norms by declining to pursue courtship well into their young adulthood. Before either could marry, both siblings disappeared under mysterious circumstances, leaving the fate of the family's accumulated wealth (which grew exponentially during Prohibition when underground operations continued alongside the legitimate production of medicinal spirits) to be hotly contested by long-time employees and distant relations alike. More than three decades later, two curious individuals came forward claiming to be their children. Apparently, the missing Vatores (long presumed dead) had assumed new identities, started families, and gone on to lead private yet unexceptional lives. No one could make sense of why the siblings left their inheritance behind, but the strong family resemblance was difficult to deny. Some even thought the resemblance too strong, but the conspiracy theories that arose from these suspicions were simply too preposterous to consider. The new Vatores promptly sold their ancestral estate and business, instead choosing to purchase a neglected Victorian manor in Forgotten Hollow, a strangely secluded and perpetually gloomy village where reported sightings of the same pair (having purportedly not aged a day) continue. Perhaps the old rumors hold some truth after all. Did they discover the fountain of youth, become initiated into a cult of immortality, or unknowingly stumble upon the dark knowledge of vampirism? Or are the Vatore genes simply so powerful that they persist through generations? The truth may never be known. (But some may say certain conclusions can be drawn from the spate of unsolved murders in the area that seemingly only started upon their arrival.)

- Introduction to Tangled Vines: A Complete Investigation of the Vatore Disappearances

Ran these through ArcaneGAN to make them look more like paintings, and I'm a bit obsessed with the results. Originals for comparison below. Special thanks to @sims4thehoes and @smok3inm1rrors for giving me the vineyard idea!

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 story #sims 4 story #ts4 edit #sims 4 edit #simblr #story: hzid #LORE DROP #just to whet your appetite a little :) #this has cracked open my third eye #i can see the entire vatore universe now #lilith vatore #caleb vatore

[xenosagaepisodeone]

For the last 2 weeks I've been transfixed on a strain of lost media I've come to call "bad memory induced media", where the supposed media in question does not (or at least more than likely does not) exist, but there are swaths of people convinced that they have definitely seen it at some point. There is rarely anything more to go off of for the hunt than a vague summary outlined in a post on some forum, but the lack of specificity allows people to fill in the blanks with similar types of media that they've seen, giving them the impression that they've already experienced it. I've found that this is extremely common for alleged lost shock media in particular, which isn't surprising. I talked a little about this on my LOL SUPERMAN post, and I get the impression that a similar strain of logic applies on a smaller scale.

Anyway, 2 major cases I have been looking at for a while are Saki Sanobashi/Go For A Punch and Evil Farm Game. Saki Sanobashi in particular fascinates me because an urban legend like this should have crumbled to the wayside by like 2018 at the latest, since that's when anime more or less became demystified to normal people. The basic premise is that it is an 80s/90s horror anime about anywhere from 4-8 girls trapped in a bathroom. The girls talk about their lives, hopes, dreams and philosophies before slowly going insane and dying one by one. If you like horror stuff you probably are already getting the vague impression that it sounds familiar- which could be influenced by any swath of media artifacts from Saw to the Russian Sleep Experiment creepypasta to the Ikea SCP to ClockUp's Euphoria to snippets of Battle Royale to that one Grisaia no Kaijitsu arc. OP insisted he found it fully subbed on the deep web (omegalul) and hasn't found a trace of it since, implying some kind of murky origin or legal status (the OVA is not pornographic btw). As you can probably tell I think this is silly. Like, so much goes into anime production that it would be difficult to hide any traces of this thing's existence. Someone had to voice act those girls. Someone had to sit hunched over a desk and draw that settei. OVAs were such a new thing in the 80s and 90s that both sfw and nsfw series were advertised in magazines. The only way that this could be so lost that not even a MAL entry remains is if it had been a student/indie production or something made for a single comiket event...but even at that....you're telling me that someone still managed to rip this from a vhs and subtitle it? And then chose to upload it to the deep web instead of youtube? even the title sounds like something google translated but didnt format correctly ("Saki Sanobashi" being gibberish while "Saki-san no Bashi" translates to "Saki-san's Bridge").

And yet there are people who will say "I definitely saw this at some point" because they saw a reaction image similar to the alleged scene where the protagonist smashes someone's head into a mirror. "The neck scratching death sounds familiar...." because you watched a higurashi amv! And OP did too, and thought it was so creepy that he involved it in his fake story. It's almost grating how much you have to suspend your disbelief to embrace that something like this exists in the exact way that stories like this insist. And yet, despite everything, the hunt for Saki Sanobashi continues because kids are too old to believe in Squidward's Suicide.

Evil Farm Game gives me a chuckle because it goes like this: a redditor posts to r/tipofmytongue about an old flash game where you play as a farmer who kills his wife and then has to hide her body while going about his farm tasks. The setup is completely fine and actually kind of reminiscent of a few story driven flash games I played on newgrounds as a kid. Many people came forward insisting that they had played this as well, one person even producing a link to a file from their hard drive that they couldn't open, but strongly believed that the game was there. A subreddit was even created to support the search. The twist is that it was a misremembered joke from a vinesauce stream.

Everyone knows that memory is an extremely fallable thing; people can be coaxed into believing that they did or saw things that they didn't with the correct prompts, but what gets me is that a lot of people on the hunt for "bad memory induced media" seem to largely be hyping themselves up. They want to believe there is something that exists against all reason no matter what. Its chuuni in nature. Do not get me wrong- the interest in finding a cool, mysterious, haunting piece of media isn't lost on me, but dog, the dopamine hit of finding a previously lost 1985 commercial for almonds in a box of vhs tapes you got from eBay is the same.

[probablyasocialecologist]

These claims of an extinction-level threat come from the very same groups creating the technology, and their warning cries about future dangers is drowning out stories on the harms already occurring. There is an abundance of research documenting how AI systems are being used to steal art, control workers, expand private surveillance, and seek greater profits by replacing workforces with algorithms and underpaid workers in the Global South.

The sleight-of-hand trick shifting the debate to existential threats is a marketing strategy, as Los Angeles Times technology columnist Brian Merchant has pointed out. This is an attempt to generate interest in certain products, dictate the terms of regulation, and protect incumbents as they develop more products or further integrate AI into existing ones. After all, if AI is really so dangerous, then why did Altman threaten to pull OpenAI out of the European Union if it moved ahead with regulation? And why, in the same breath, did Altman propose a system that just so happens to protect incumbents: Only tech firms with enough resources to invest in AI safety should be allowed to develop AI.

[...]

First, the industry represents the culmination of various lines of thought that are deeply hostile to democracy. Silicon Valley owes its existence to state intervention and subsidy, at different times working to capture various institutions or wither their ability to interfere with private control of computation. Firms like Facebook, for example, have argued that they are not only too large or complex to break up but that their size must actually be protected and integrated into a geopolitical rivalry with China.

Second, that hostility to democracy, more than a singular product like AI, is amplified by profit-seeking behavior that constructs increasingly larger threats to humanity. It’s Silicon Valley and its emulators worldwide, not AI, that create and finance harmful technologies aimed at surveilling, controlling, exploiting, and killing human beings with little to no room for the public to object. The search for profits and excessive returns, with state subsidy and intervention clearing the way of competition, has and will create a litany of immoral business models and empower brutal regimes alongside “existential” threats. At home, this may look like the surveillance firm and government contractor Palantir creating a deportation machine that terrorizes migrants. Abroad, this may look like the Israeli apartheid state exporting spyware and weapons it has tested on Palestinians.

Third, this combination of a deeply antidemocratic ethos and a desire to seek profits while externalizing costs can’t simply be regulated out of Silicon Valley. These are fundamental attributes of the industry that trace back to the beginning of computation. These origins in optimizing plantations and crushing worker uprisings prefigure the obsession with surveillance and social control that shape what we are told technological innovations are for.

Taken altogether, why should we worry about some far-flung threat of a superintelligent AI when its creators—an insular network of libertarians building digital plantations, surveillance platforms, and killing machines—exist here and now? Their Smaugian hoards, their fundamentalist beliefs about markets and states and democracy, and their track record should be impossible to ignore.

#ai #artificial intelligence #silicon valley #technology #big tech

[thought-tracing]

TOTALLY F***ED UP

selected songs from the film by Gregg Araki

(more pics)

if you use the cover just like let me know i just wanna see it idgaf about credit really

apple music playlists:

#like how araki would have wanted #fan made #fan made cd #totally fucked up #gregg araki #soundtrack #movie posting #music posting #james duval #an original thought-tracing production #cd

[pigeonflavouredcake]

My Grimoire Research Library

this is a list of my major resource I've referenced/am currently referencing in my big grimoire project. For books I'll be linking the Goodreads page, for pdfs, websites and videos i'll link them directly.

There are plenty of generalised practitioner resources that can work for everyone but as I have Irish ancestry and worship Hellenic deities quite a few of my resources are centred around Celtic Ireland, ancient Greece and the Olympic mythos. If you follow other sects of paganism you are more than welcome to reblog with your own list of resources.

Parts of my grimoire discuss topics of new age spiritualism, dangerous conspiracy theories, and bigotry in witchcraft so some resources in this list focus on that.

Books

Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology

Astrea Taylor - Intuitive Witchcraft

Dee Dee Chainey & Willow Winsham - Treasury of Folklore: Woodlands and Forests

John Ferguson - Among The Gods: An Archaeological Exploration of Ancient Greek Religion

Katharine Briggs - The Fairies in Tradition and Literature

Kevin Danaher - The Year in Ireland: Irish Calendar Customs

Laura O'Brien - Fairy Faith in Ireland

Lindsey C. Watson - Magic in Ancient Greece and Rome

Nicholas Culpeper - Culpeper's Complete Herbal

Plutarch - The Rise and Fall of Athens: Nine Greek Lives

R.B. Parkinson - A Little Gay History: Desire and Diversity Around the World

Rachel Patterson - Seventy Eight Degrees of Wisdom: A Tarot Journey to Self-Awareness

Raleigh Briggs - Make Your Place: Affordable & Sustainable Nesting Skills

Robin Wall Kimmerer - Braiding Sweetgrass

Ronald Hutton - The Witch: A History of Fear in Ancient Times

Rosemary Ellen Guiley - The Encyclopaedia of Witches and Witchcraft

Thomas N. Mitchell - Athens: A History of the World's First Democracy

Walter Stephens - Demon Lovers: Witchcraft S3x and the Crisis of Belief

Yvonne P. Chireau - Black Magic: Religion and The African American Conjuring Tradition

PDFs

Anti Defamation League - Hate on Display: Hate Symbols Database

Brandy Williams - White Light, Black Magic: Racism in Esoteric Thought

Cambridge SU Women’s Campaign - How to Spot TERF Ideology 2.0.

Blogs and Websites

Anti Defamation League

B. Ricardo Brown - Until Darwin: Science and the Origins of Race

Dr. S. Deacon Ritterbush - Dr Beachcomb

Folklore Thursday

Freedom of Mind Resource Centre - Steven Hassan’s BITE Model of Authoritarian Control

Institute for Strategic Dialogue

Royal Horticultural Society

The Duchas Project -National Folklore Collection

Vivienne Mackie - Vivscelticconnections

YouTube Videos

ContraPoints - Gender Critical

Emma Thorne Videos - Christian Fundie Says Halloween is SATANIC!

Owen Morgan (Telltale) - The Source Of All Conspiracies: A 1902 Document Called "The Protocols"

The Belief it or Not Podcast - Ep. 40 Satanic Panic, Ep 92. Wicca

Wendigoon - The Conspiracy Theory Iceberg

Other videos I haven't referenced but you may still want to check out

Atun-Shei Films - Ancient Aryans: The History of Crackpot N@zi Archaeology

Belief It Or Not - Ep. 90 - Logical Fallacies

Dragon Talisman - Tarot Documentary (A re-upload of the 1997 documentary Strictly Supernatural: Tarot and Astrology)

Lindsay Ellis - Tracing the Roots of Pop Culture Transphobia

Overly Sarcastic Productions - Miscellaneous Myths Playlist

Owen Morgan (Telltale) - SATANIC PANIC! 90s Video Slanders Satanists | Pagan Invasion Saga | Part 1

ReignBot - How Ouija Boards Became "Evil" | Obscura Archive Ep. 2

Ryan Beard - Demi Lovato Promoted a R4cist Lizard Cult

Super Eyepatch Wolf - The Bizarre World of Fake Psychics, Faith Healers and Mediums

Weird Reads with Emily Louise -The Infamous Hoaxes Iceberg Playlist

Wendigoon - The True Stories of the Warren Hauntings: The Conjuring, Annabelle, Amityville, and Other Encounters

#I'm writing this while watching the new SovietWomble video #good way to spend 3 hours #witchblr #witch #witchcraft #pagan #pagan witch #kitchen witch #paganism #hellenic pagan #hellenic witch #grimoire #digital grimoire #book of magic #grimoire resources #witchcraft resources #resource list #witch masterpost #eclectic pagan #witchy #grimoire tips #grimoire inspo #grimoire inspiration

[weirdkpopgirl]

Something More | Jeno Fic #1

Title: Something More

Genre: College au, friends to lovers

Warnings: none really

Word Count: ~1.9k

Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be a short little imagine. But I felt the need to put more effort into the story, so it ended up being a little longer than I intended. I have some pending fics that I've slowly been working on. So this was just something I wanted to post in the meantime. I'm also a sucker for soft Jeno. Thank you for reading ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Lee Jeno was someone you never thought you’d get close to. Your friendship with him was a slow process, much like a delicate blooming flower. The initial connection was forged during your freshman year of college, as a result of being in the same circle of friends. It became evident from the start, that you were both introverts and struggled when it came to meeting new people. 

During the first few group gatherings, your interactions were limited to polite greetings at best. Yet, the frequent meetups eventually eased the both of you into a more comfortable dynamic in each other’s presence.

However, it was an unexpected counter at the library that your mere acquaintanceship became something more. Seated alone at a table, you diligently flipped through the pages of your textbook to absorb all the information you needed for an upcoming exam.

Jeno stepped into the library with the same intention to study. Usually, he came with Jaemin or Donghyuck. But the others seemed uninterested in hitting the books that particular day, leaving him no choice but to go himself. As his eyes scanned the room, a wave of relief washed over him when he spotted you tucked away in a corner.

“Hey, (Y/n). Is it okay if I sit here?” Jeno asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if you preferred to be alone, and he completely understood if you did.

But the slight curve of your lips, accompanied by a reassuring smile, instantly dismissed any lingering uncertainties. “Sure, I don’t mind,” you replied softly. 

Expressing his gratitude through a heartfelt smile, Jeno took his place in the chair next to yours. With a sense of purpose, he brought out his study materials, mirroring your focused intent as you delved back into your own work. Subsequently, a comfortable silence flowed between the two of you, creating the perfect atmosphere for productivity.

After that day, you and Jeno fell into the habit of studying at the library together more often. In the beginning, neither of you spoke much and solely focused on your work. However, with the increasing frequency of these meetings, a subtle shift occurred, prompting you and Jeno to gradually peel back the layers of reserve. As time went on, your conversations ranged from sharing insights about your respective courses to discussing your goals after college.

Through those times, you got to know Jeno better, and he also learned more about you. You liked that Jeno was a mellow guy who made you feel safe to be around. On the other hand, Jeno felt like he could be more himself around you without being judged.

During one of these study sessions, both of you received messages from the group chat, suggesting a get-together for drinks later. As the rest of the chat chimed in with their enthusiastic agreements, you found yourself nibbling on your lip, a trace of uncertainty crossing your expression. Although you cherished your friends dearly, the idea of socializing after a taxing day of classes and extensive study hours didn't particularly resonate with your current energy level.

Noticing the flicker of uncertainty in your demeanor, Jeno’s perceptive gaze locked onto your hesitation. Frankly, he wasn’t particularly interested in going out that day either. Placing his phone down, he met your eyes and leaned in a secretive manner. 

“Should we ditch them?” he proposed. You were confused about what he meant at first. 

But Jeno quickly spoke up. “We can go to the dorms instead and maybe watch a movie. But only if you want to though!”

When you stopped to think about it, spending time with one individual sounded better than with a group of people at that moment. So you agreed, and the two of you packed up your things to head over to the dorm he shared with his friends. Despite the original intention of watching a movie, Jeno and you ended up sidetracked from that plan.

The pitter-patter of rain accompanied your entrance into his dorm, casting a cozy ambiance that left the both of you drowsy. As you nestled onto the couch, that drowsiness took over, causing your eyelids to droop and your thoughts to drift. 

All you could remember was Jeno draping a blanket over you both before everything faded into a peaceful slumber. Fingers brushed softly, and your bodies naturally drew nearer, forming an unconscious embrace. 

Honestly, you had never experienced such restful sleep before. Forty minutes later the two of you woke up with tousled hair and shy smiles. But somehow your occasional study sessions shifted to meeting at his dorm or yours whenever one of you felt drained from your days or to escape the stress of your studies. 

Cuddling up for a nap remained entirely platonic, and neither of you invested much thought into it. Instead, you simply discovered that resting together left you feeling more recharged after. However, your friends seemed to think differently about the situation.

It was Jaemin who stumbled upon the sight of you two napping in Jeno's bed first. After that, he and the others become more observant of the growing closeness between you and their roommate. Of course, Donghyuck seized the opportunity to address the situation.

“You and (Y/n) seem pretty cozy these days, don’t you?” Donghyuck quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Napping together.”

Jeno responded with a nervous chuckle, his arms folded defensively. “Oh come on, it’s nothing like that. We’re just friends.”

“Sure, just friends who cuddle all the time,” Jaemin interjected, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

His cheeks flushed a light shade of red, but he managed to maintain his composure. Nonetheless, the playful banter from his friends set Jeno’s thoughts into motion. Slowly, he started to contemplate the idea that there might be something more between the two of you.

Meanwhile, the female members of your circle of friends also felt the need to confront you. The moment arrived during lunch, with your friend Suyeon being the first to broach the topic.

“(Y/n), do you have feelings for Jeno?” Suyeon’s question caught you off guard, nearly causing you to choke on your water.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” you coughed.

Your other friend, Yerin leaned forward, fixing you a knowing gaze across the table. “Jaemin told us about you two cuddling?!”

"Oh... that," you replied, lowering your head with a slight blush. "It's not what you're imagining. We kind of just ended up in this routine of napping together. There's really nothing more to it."

"But do you like him?" Suyeon probed, searching for a genuine response.

Your relationship with Jeno had never been something you gave much thought to before. Perhaps you had been somewhat oblivious all along.

You paused, considering your words carefully. “I mean…I feel the most comfortable when I’m with him.”

“Then you should tell him that!” Yerin encouraged.

You offered a sheepish smile. “I…I can’t. Jeno and I are good friends, and I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

Your friends let out exasperated sighs, their discontent with your answer was obvious. However, they chose to drop the subject, respecting your decision. Even if your feelings for Jeno were real, the thought of confessing felt selfish. The bond you both had painstakingly built mattered immensely, and you weren't willing to jeopardize it over something seemingly trivial.

A few days later, you dropped by Jeno’s dorm after your last class. Not longer after, you found yourselves wrapped in each other’s arms in his dimly lit bedroom. The atmosphere was serene, as it usually was. But a sense of unspoken tension hung in the air as if there was something you both wanted to talk about.

Ever since the guys talked to him, Jeno couldn’t get you out of his head. The more he thought about it, the more he started to realize he loved being close to you. He had fallen for you without knowing it. Once Jeno finally came to terms with this, he was unsure of whether he should do something about it.

However, lying beside you in that moment, observing how you nestled into his hoodie, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him. Jeno’s heart raced as he took a deep breath and finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “(Y/n), can I ask you something?” 

You glanced up at him, your eyes curious yet cautious. “What’s up?”

The gaze Jeno had on you was so intense that left you feeling momentarily breathless. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Do you…think there’s possibly something more between us?” He chose his words carefully. “Beyond just friendship, I mean.”

Your breath caught in your throat, taken aback by the unexpected turn in the conversation. The past few days, Jeno also seemed to occupy your mind more than anything else. You found yourself torn between suppressing your growing feelings and the inclination to accept them.

After a moment of silence, you met the gravity in his gaze with a serious expression of your own. A trace of reservation lingered within you, a reluctance to fully surrender to your feelings.

"Why, do you?”

Jeno hesitated, his fingers instinctively tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Despite his concern that your feelings might not align, he decided to be honest.

"Yeah, I think I have, for quite some time," he confessed, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. "I was so dumb that I didn’t realize it until now. ”

He studied your expression intently, nervously awaiting any sign of a reaction. Eventually, a smile began to tug at the corner of your lips. Your heart danced in a way it never had before.

A slow exhale escaped your lips as you spoke, the weight of your words carrying the gravity of your emotions. "I’ve been feeling the same way," you admitted your voice a gentle confession. "I just... didn't have the courage to say it."

Jeno's eyes softened as he took in your words, a mixture of relief and joy washing over him. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring.

“Well, it’s good to know we’re on the same page now,” he remarked with a lighthearted tone, prompting a soft chuckle from you.

Jeno pulled you closer into a warm embrace, taking in the subtle scent. Though he tried to hide it, his heart seemed ready to burst with all these new emotions he was experiencing.

Curiously, you tilted your head slightly as you asked, "So... what does this make us?"

Amusement danced in the corners of his eyes, and he replied with a playful grin, "I suppose that means you're my girlfriend now, and I'm your boyfriend?"

“Hm, I like that,” you hummed.

Bashful smiles were exchanged, and then you nuzzled your head beneath his chin, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tender embrace. A gentle giggle escaped you as you felt the soft press of his lips against your forehead. Little did you know that this was only the start of something that would become so much more to the both of you. Without a doubt, Lee Jeno was where you belonged.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

#nct dream #7dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #nct dream fluff #kpop #nctzen #jeno fic #nct dream fic #jeno #czennie #nct #nct dream x reader

[whatthefishh]

Arty Boy

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Words: 1.9k; part of the Oxford Comma series but can be read alone I guess

Warnings: no smut but mature themes-ish, mentions of sex and intimacy, fluff, soft Rydal, bickering, rich people shit, a glance at their relationship over a few months

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

“Wha– I wasn’t smiling like anything!” he countered.

“What, what is it? What are you hiding, you’ve got that look on your face when you’re hiding something from me,” you threw the sweater of his that you were holding, into his suitcase where you were currently packing his things for winter break.

You had spent the last few weeks of spending almost every day together, learning each other in your own way, asking the deep cutting questions first and following up with asking what his favourite colour was. Rydal was gentle when he asked you about where you grew up, his petty comment all that time ago about your hometown at the forefront of his mind. You told him everything there was to know as you lay on top of his chest, tracing your finger in mindless circles on his skin while avoiding eye contact. You had asked him what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t have a straight answer.

“Not become my father,” he had muttered.

“What does that mean?”

He never did answer your question now that you thought about it. You were brought back to the present when he got up from his place where he was lounging on the bed like some antiquated forgotten prince in his prime. He sure looked the part, was bred into the role. Moulded for it really. The way his hair flopped into his eyes was surely a gift from the gods themselves. Rydal opened one of his desk drawers and reached inside, pulling out a book before turning to you with that disarming stare of his.

“Since I have to leave you in this cold, dreadful, lonesome building for the holidays–”

“Okay, relax, I won’t be entirely alone–”

“–all by yourself, without me–”

“–Eleanor is staying, too, for fuck’s sake I already mentioned this–”

“–I got you something,” he finished without the flourish you were expecting.

Rydal presented you with the book in his arms, brandishing the title as if he were an old-fashioned tour guide in Europe, arm movements and all. Cheeseball. It was an early edition of Pride and Prejudice, one of your favourites – ridiculously well kept and the pages hardly creased from lack of use. The binding was perfectly intact and you were almost afraid to take it from his hands, eyes darting between the title and his face in shock.

He brushed off your reaction and protests, insisting that you took it off his hands, that you’d be doing him a favour really, and that he had no use for it. You hardly believed him but accepted the gift nonetheless, noticing the way his chest puffed out with pride at your excitement over it, and cherishing what must have been a family heirloom that he so freely handed over to you.

///

The next time Rydal got you something that made you slightly nervous to accept was in February. It was before Valentines, the two of you choosing to ignore the ostentatious and offensive holiday in favour of just passing midterm season. He was so casual about it, leaving it in your bathroom cabinet with your other cheaper toiletries in its original packaging, slapping the tiniest pink bow you’d ever seen on it so you’d know it was from him. You don’t even remember telling him about it, the Chanel bottle glaringly out of place amongst your other drug store products.

You made sure to wear it the next time you saw him, and you fucking knew he was waiting for you to with the way he pressed his nose into your neck and deeply inhaled as you greeted him. If this was another game of his, you weren’t going to be the one to back down and admit you squealed and showed it off to your roommate.

You probably shouldn’t have done that last part. Eleanor was already jealous enough as it was, complaining that her boyfriend still hadn’t made reservations for the cringey celebration.

Rydal made sure to be extra handsy that day, taking any and every excuse to lean into your personal space and show his appreciation that you wore what he bought for you. Which, okay, fine, you liked that you had that effect on him but he was bordering on hedonistic as he mouthed at you. Not that you were complaining but you definitely pushed him away a few times out of fear of him sucking a bruise onto your skin in broad daylight.

You made sure to spray the perfume all over your body the next time you saw him, fully expecting him to go batshit and not let you leave his dorm.

///

Towards the end of the semester with the prospect of summer looming over your heads, you felt more and more needy towards Rydal. You were not only stressed about the end of your second year, but finals and the fear of not seeing him for the next four months despite his plans and promises. Not only were you stealing his t-shirts that carried his scent with them, hoarding them away for lonely nights, you were also playing your hand with his other possessions.

You began wearing anything and everything at least once for fear of his memory leaving you in the short time you were away from each other. This ended up with you rifling through his closet while he showered, trying on different sweaters and blazers before finding a pair of sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket of one of his jackets, tossing it aside quickly before trying the classic Raybans on.

Which is exactly how he found you, looking at yourself from different angles in the mirror and seeing if you could pull off the heavy metal frames. If only they were just a tad smaller. Sighing, you deposited them into his outstretched hand, his subtle smirk going unnoticed by you.

Rydal thought this side of you was hilarious, he knew exactly what you were doing when you thought you were subtly tucking his shirts away into your bag before leaving. He found this new behaviour incredibly endearing, especially since you refused to admit that the time away from him was going to be a problem anytime he asked.

It’s not that he didn’t feel the same, no, he definitely wasn’t looking forward to the month you’d have to spend apart. He was afraid of the morning he would have to wake up in his childhood home without the option of you being there, or just a couple minutes of a walk away. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn uncomfortably but he refused to think about it.

A week after the awkward sunglasses incident, you received a nondescript brown package to your dorm. Thinking it was for your roommate, you left it for Eleanor on her bed without a second glance. You didn’t order things to your dorm, you were fucking poor.

When she picked it up, she scoffed at the shipping label before walking it over to you, muttering something about Sebastian needing to step his game up. Looking down at the package again, you saw that it was addressed to you. You ripped the package open in confusion before lifting the spectacle case out of the bubble wrap, your mind immediately jumping to your stupidly well off boyfriend.

Inside the case was the matching women’s version of the frames he owned, the same ones that were just a bit too large for your face. You hated the swooping feeling you got while putting them on.

///

Summer was upon the both of you before you were ready. You had to say your goodbyes, temporary or not, you couldn’t very well go home with him and he wouldn’t last a day in your life. You just had to wait until you met up in June, at his family’s summer home. There, you’d spend a month or two, depending on how uncomfortable you were in the presence of other nepo babies.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re suffocating me, right?”

His voice came out muffled against your shoulder which was currently pressed up against his mouth from where you had thrown your arms around him.

Pulling back to press your foreheads together, his hands came up to hold your face between them.

“I’ll be back under your skin before you know it… hopefully under you before either of us know it.”

///

When you saw him again in June, you were a nervous wreck. The pressure of not only seeing him outside of your normal routine of school but also in the presence of his family and other privileged kids, some of which went to school with you both, was making you unnaturally quiet. Rydal, of course, noticed.

“C’mere, baby, gotta show you something.”

“Rydal, we can’t have sex in the pool changing rooms,” you started.

“No, what? Ew. What the fuck— ew, no! I’m not that easy—“

You made a face.

“Let’s not get into how easy you were for me—“

“—not fair, you should’ve seen yourself—“

“—practically begging me to suck you off—“

“—you know I like when you say the word suck—“

“—why did you ask me to follow you in here?”

Rydal reached into his pocket, thick hands pulling the already tight fabric even more taught causing your eyes to openly ogle his thigh. It’s been a long month and a half away from each other, you couldn’t help it and you weren’t drooling, okay?

He pulled out a small blue box, the distinct colour of it starkly contrasted against his sun kissed skin. Robin’s egg blue. No, that’s not quite right. Tiffany blue. Tacky white bow on top.

Your heart stopped beating.

“Rydal, what— I can’t accept whatever is in that box,” you were stuttering and your eyes were most definitely welling up.

“Hey, hey. It’s just an early birthday present,” his arms came up to pull you closer. “I… I like buying you things. Pretty things. You deserve them, baby, will you at least let me show you?”

He was being uncharacteristically gentle with you, out of place in the echoing changing room by the pool. Well, that’s not entirely true, was it? Rydal showed you his gentle and soft side often, however, it was usually masked with a bratty comment here and there. If you let yourself take the time to remember, he had been showing you kindness from the day you met him, ready to forgive you for ruining his best friend’s stark white shoes.

And that’s the thing with Rydal, he was always going to be soft for you, even if he covered it up with messy words to make you frown at him. He never wanted you to grovel for him or his money, never expected you to treat him any differently for all the pretty things he bought you, for all the liberties he granted you.

Looking up into his doting eyes, you found him waiting for your response, if you would let him buy his girlfriend a birthday present. To grant him permission to adorn you. You nodded hesitantly.

He was excited to open the box and take out the tennis bracelet, a delicately bejewelled thing. He was eager to clasp it around your wrist before watching you admire it.

“Do you—“

“I love you.”

#rydal keener fanfiction #rydal keener x reader #rydal keener x you #rydal keener #the two faces of january #the two faces of January fanfiction #Rydal keener fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oxford comma fic #yes this is about rydal keener

[lazytitans-world]

Wish re watch thoughts

Having not watched Wish since it came out in theaters in November of 2023 and going down the rabbit hole of abandoned concepts and re-writes in the months leading up to Wish dropping on Disney+ I can now give Wish a re watch and share my thoughts on it. Now keep in mind I am coming at this movie from many angles. On one hand, I want to watch this with a new frame of mind to give it a chance to see if any of my thoughts on the movie have changed. On the other side is my inner "WE COULD HAVE HAD A STARBOY!" fandom side of me looking to see if any of the scrapped concepts could have worked in the movie we got and to see if any traces of those concepts were left behind. But no more waitng, no more writing fanfics, its time to re-watch Wish

• Starting off with the classic story book opening I felt was a great touch as it harkens back to classic Disney animated movies like Snow White, Pinnochio and Sword in the Stone.

• So why was Asha being so secretive to her family about her interview for Magnifico's apprenticeship? That feels like something major to tell your family. Even Asha's friends know about it. It could be Asha wanted to surprise them, I guess.

• Hot take: Welcome to Rosas is not that bad of a song, it's got a catchy beat and introduces us to the kingdom, Magnifico, and the wishes.

• The scene where Asha and her friends discuss her interview does have Asha doing typical "quirky Disney girl" behavior but at the same time she is a teen about to have an interview for what may be one of the most sought-after jobs in the kingdom, I'd be acting weird to if I was her age and in her position.

• We get some hints of Magnifico's jerk personality as he somewhat dismisses Asha's drawings when she shows it to him. The line is "Do we call that a talent?"

• Magnifico mentioning how he knew of Asha's father and how her dad talked about the stars is an interesting given how everything turns out but for one, this is NEVER BROUGHT UP AGAIN and two, this feels like a leftover of one of the deleted scenes from Wish where Magnifico wanted to harness a stars power but was never powerful enough to do so.

• Oh "At All Costs", how you sparked a fandom when you had no intention of doing so.

• In context of the movie, At All Costs does work as it shows that Magnifico's and Asha's feelings on the wishes. Magnifico holding on too his past trauma and feeling that HE and only HE can protect these sacred things while Asha is more drawn to the person AND their wishes, notably her Saba's wish.

• Opinion time: If we were to have Starboy and a romance, the demo version of At All Costs should have been a reprise, just with the word love instead of promise, showing how Star and Asha's relationship has grown and deepened. It would be a lot like "I See the Light" from Tangled, taking place before the climax.

• It makes a little sense why Magnifico rejected Asha's application since after singing "At All Costs" he sees her drawn to the Wishes and some even being drawn to her as the wish orbs now have a purple hew instead of blue hew like the color of Magnifico's cape to them to match Asha's dress. Magnifico has worries that someone will use the power for personal, and in his mind "selfish" reasons, plus his trauma from his village being destroyed makes him warry of who to trust.

• So what happens to a person's wish if they die? Does it just disappear?

• So that whole opinion of "Asha wants Magnifico to grant everyone's wish" WRONG! Asha wants Magnifico to give wishes back to those who have given theirs away long ago and let the people pursue their own wishes.

• Magnifico's tease that he might grant Sabino's wish is petty and I like it as he starts by saying a name starting with Sa before saying another person's name. That is petty stuff right there.

•If you are aware of the original concept art and the many changes Wish went through during production, it is obvious that Amaya, Star and Sabino got their characters changed, and in the case of some, completely neutered.

• I like Ariana Deboise and Chris Pine as Asha and Magnifico respectively.

• "This Wish" is ok and is mostly carried by Araina's strong vocal range.

• Star's arrival has where my inner fandom is screaming "honey get ready, you've got a big storm coming"

• "Can light be loving?" according to the many re-writes I've read, yes Asha, yes it can.

• Opinion time, again: I am in favor of the Starboy design seen in the concept art. Letting you know now since from this point on is about Star.

• I can totally see the human design of Star working in the introduction they have with Asha.

• I get why the creative team wanted Star to look that way, they wanted to do something different and that design screams "marketable plush"

• Once Valentino started talking and we go into "You're a Star", it all came back to me, that bad feeling. THIS IS WHAT I DID NOT LIKE ABOUT WISH. This part feels specifically aimed at children or at most feels too "cutesy". This, in my opinion, where people turned on Wish.

• Getting back to the Star Boy design, "You're a Star" could have worked as a way of Star showing off their powers, as well as them crushing on Asha. "You know you're a work of art" - Imagine Star Boy blushing as that is being said while looking at Asha, this writes itself.

• Look, I like Alan Tudyk, he can be funny if given witty and sarcastic dialogue and I know he has been a fixture in Disney movies for a while, but they gave him nothing to work with for this. This is not an obligation, more like a reward gone wrong. I am glad that Alan got a more prominent role, but I just thought it should have been something better.

• Another major criticism I've seen is that Magnifico's down fall is just him being controlled by a book when really it is more complicated than that. I akin it to Anakin Skywalker falling to the dark side as in it's not just the teachings that cause someone to go down the path of darkness, it's the feelings and desires of the one learning. Magnifico, at the point of the movie is paranoid and afraid that someone or something is here to take away his powers, threaten his power status, and destroy his kingdom that he works hard to protect in his own way. So it is not just the book doing it but the powers of the book mixed with his own fear, anger, trauma and other negative emotions that cause him to fall to darkness. Hate leads to anger, anger leads to

fear, fear leads to suffering.

•I totally forgot the Simon actually sees and interacts with Star before his betrayal. Star hands him a heart after he says he has forgotten what we wished for and when I first saw this I thought it meant that he had a crush on someone, maybe Asha but after seeing the movie it was just Star trying to be nice to Simon. Which in turn makes Simon's turn even more strange.

•I understand why people would think Asha was selfish in going for her family's wishes first when freeing them but my head cannon is that freeing all of them at once would be too big of scene and she wants to prove to Sabino that his wish is worth granting. However, Magnifico would notice that some wishes are missing and would put two and two together so this plan was not thought out to much but hey she is only 18 and she just met a magic star that can help her so I think her thinking clearly is not to much of an issue.

• "This is Thanks I Get" starts off odd as no one brought up the mirror thing in the scene where the citizens question Magnifico. But the song itself is to show that though Magnifico shows that he cares about the citizens of Rosas and their safety, he would rather have someone else help them then get involved himself and still wanting praise even though he does not really do much for the kingdom outside of granting wishes. The song also is to show that Magnifico is now going down the path of darkness due to his own insecurities and ego. Chris Pine does a great job with the song as he becomes more unhinged in every chorus.

• THERE IS NO SCENE WHERE SAKINA AND SABINO MEET STAR AND TALKING VALENTINO WTH!!! It jumps right to Asha giving Sabino his wish back, no lead in or setup.

•Then we go right to Magnifico breaking into Asha's house after being told she brought down the star. Again, there was no setup or lead in, it just happened.

•We don't even get to see Asha's mom's wish before Magnifico crushes it. It would have added more to the emotion of the scene to see what her wish was just as Magnifico destroyed it. This also shown to be the first time Magnifico has ever destroyed a wish. I chalk this up to his new powers influencing him to destroy it.

• Sabino mentions as they escape that Asha's father would be disheartened to see what Magnifico has done, implying that the father was a believer of Magnifico.

• Star holding Asha's chin as she blames herself for everything again makes me yearn for the Star Boy design.

• Magnifico having a hidden evil lair beneath his royal study is symbolism 101 but nice to see.

• Fun detail: When Magnifico grants Simon's wish, he uses the spear he made from forbidden magic and that in turns corrupts Simon's wish and thus Simon himself. We see instead of the usual blue, pink or other colors used to represent Magnifico's magic its is now the green evil magic, symbolizing that Simon's wish, though granted, is now corrupted as well.

• Simon turning on his friends is shown more as an effect of the forbidden magic Magnifico used.

• How do you have a wanted poster of Asha and not make a "they got my nose wrong" joke from Tangled.

• "My butt found it" - see this is why a lot of people thought this movie was written by AI.

•"Introverts need sanctuary too" - Hell yeah Bazeema

•"What I Know Now" is another decent song as I am a sucker for drum breaks and enjoy the revolutionary feel behind it.

• Apparently, to avoid corruption by the book of forbidden magic you have to wash your hands with obsidian oil before using the book. So to avoiding evil basically comes down to washing your hands, gee you think this movie was made during a pandemic or something. Overall, pretty lame way to defeat evil.

•The rule is "embrace forbidden magic once and you commit to it for eternity". I find it hard to believe that no one has tried to save someone corrupted by this forbidden magic before this.

• I notice that the more obvious Disney call backs happen at the last third of the movie. Before it was subtle but now it is super obvious.

• If we were not going to get a reprise of "At All Costs" then "This Wish" would make sense as it shows the kingdom getting behind Asha and standing up to Magnifico themselves. It is a decent song for what it needs to be.

•Again, I can't help thinking about Star's human design as they are sucked into Magnifico's staff. Imagine them taking one last glance at Asha before being sucked in to the staff, some good romantic build there.

• Simon's betrayal came down to him wanting to feel whole again after giving up his wish and essentially making a deal with the devil to make that happen. I get that people saw him differently and he would want to change that but how he acted with Asha and the others before Magnifico told the kingdom about the light and its apparent danger still made his turn feel off, we needed to see Simon struggle with how he feels and how others see him for it to make sense.

•So Star did not go back to the sky at the end, which does leave the door open for other adventures with Asha and others. Maybe star could turn human at the end (LOOK LET ME DREAM!)

Overall my thoughts on Wish have not really changed since I first viewed it. The movie is passable, a 6 or seven out of 10, a C+ to B grade. The animation is good, the story is fine and the characters do not bother me too much.

But for a movie that is supposed to represent 100 years of Disney animation, one of the most influential studios of all time, it is not wrong to say that we should have gotten more. This movie is missing one thing, that special sauce to put it over the top. It could've been a romance with a human looking Star, it could have been Amaya and Magnifico being a villainous couple, it could have been anything. Wish just needed that extra something to push past some of the pacing and story beats that drag it down such as the bad jokes and odd pacing. Maybe a better relationship between Asha and Star would be glue that held the movie together as most previous Disney film always had that main duo that kept you interested but Asha and this version of Star just don't click like a Moana and Maui or Anna and Elsa did.

I would give it a recommendation now that it is on streaming for an affordable price plus it does come with the deleted scenes and bonus materials. It's also clear to see that the team behind it was passionate about making this the best it could be and I applaud the team for that idea. I know others are going after them for not going through with certain concepts, but I think they did an okay job with what they had.

So yes I like Wish, it's not my favorite Disney movie but it's one I would not mind watching again and understand if it's someone's favorite. Hopefully the initial negativity towards the movie dies down and people actually give it a chance.

#disney wish #disney #wish #starboy #wish 2023 #disney star #asha x star #fandom #wish rewrite #wish disney #wish star #wish movie #king magnifico #queen amaya #valentino