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bucephaly · 6 months

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It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.

People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.

And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.

If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.

#and ive heard even dumber origins of the cherokee family myth #such as an ancestor having a silly sounding name so the descendents just go 'oh she mustve been an indian!!!'#i was one of the few people who had my ancestry done on the facebook and had genuine cherokee ancestry #[though i had found it before it was just really validating to get it double checked and i started finding cousins (:]#like. i was told once when i was a kid by my grandma that my dad had cherokee ancestry and i didnt believe her. its wild that so many peopl #will make it a Fixture of their identity [or even just smth they bring up ever] with Zero proof #at least for cherokees from what ive seen its usually considered really disrespectful to claim to have cherokee ancestry without #actually having the documentation [like ancestors on the rolls]#and no a dna test doesnt count. nor does 'my dad is Clearly not white!' or 'high cheekbones' or old family photos or anything #i had this discussion with someone recently whose dad had been calling himself 3/4 native but didnt know exactly what nation ???? hello?#and its like... sorry but ur dad is like. italian lol.#[and blood quantum is bullshit anyway im tired of the 'im 1/16 cherokee' comments its dumb #cherokee nation does not have a blood quantum requirement. its pointless bringing it up in the discussion of who is or isnt cherokee]#also mandatory disclaimer that im reconnecting. i didnt grow up connected to the culture of even knowing my ancestry #this is all from my looking into this stuff over the past year or so. i cant claim to be an authority over anything regarding this #this is p much all my repeating things ive heard said by people who know a lot more than i do haha #man. and this isnt even starting to get into the fake tribe stuff. the only legit cherokee groups are the 3 federally recognized bands #cherokee nation of oklahoma. united keetoowah band. and the eastern band of cherokee indians.#any others that are state recognized or not at all arent acknowledged as legitimate by any of the legit cherokee groups #anyway. my final message goodb.ye #cherokee #tsalagi

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the-acid-pear · 1 year

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I feel like we are too scared to be mean for the bit and that's a fucking shame. I think we are scared to be mean in general, intentionally or otherwise. And i think that speaks to the culture of purity we harvested in the modern online spaces. And it's a complex and serious topic to acknowledge but i think what matters the most is that we need to be mean for the bit more often tbh.

#luly talks #im not asking yall to be like me n blood we met in a latam facebook group we are recovered edgelords #but y'know being a contrarian and shit like that is silly! its fun!! y'all shouldn't fear it #i love peace and love but i need to get pointed by a gun and strangled sometimes for fun #there's a healthy amount for anything even this!!!!

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killuintense · 4 months

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leon and his lazy touches !

it's usually quite common to be in that position with Leon when you're both in bed. after a long day of work, both on his part and yours, you both end up lazily lying in bed not wanting to do much, just with your social battery completely discharged looking for silent company with each other with your bodies glued together providing warmth to each other.

this was more common than it seemed: him on his cell phone scrolling through the latest news, or memes with really bad jokes that made him giggle, and you watching silly relaxing videos on your cell phone. every once in a while one of you would leave the silence and show the other the cell phone. "oh my god, look at this video..." you'd say, or he'd put the phone in front of your face while laughing like a fool at some meme he got from the most neglected social network on the internet (facebook, from a group of older wives, all complaining about their husbands) but apparently that was the epitome of comedy for your boyfriend. and you sometimes made fun of him, or laughed more because of that complicity he had with you to show you anything and bother you, hiding in your neck while you made fun of his poor taste for humor. sometimes he would pout falsely and you would let him, ending up letting go of your cell phone and placing it on your chest to gently cuddle his hair until he fell asleep.

sometimes he was too immersed reading news on his cell phone, any shit about the current politics of the country, or about news from all over the world about the rulings of justice and those things that he was already so used to but that, beyond that, was what he was dedicated to and interested in. that's why he didn't notice the little tricks he had when his mind was wandering in another dimension. like he inevitably sought to be the big spoon, at all costs. he would hog your whole body with his body sticking his chest to your back as you cowered and followed without paying much attention to him. sometimes his free hand is on your butt, he loves to squeeze something while he's focused on something else, and sometimes your butt became his favorite stim toy. when that stops being enough, he reaches for your boobs.

you giggle, it's quite tender because it's not a sexual touch, at least not at that moment, but he does need to fondle them, knead them, gently scratch the moldable skin of your breasts and that relaxes you, you're not going to lie. it even makes you let out soft giggles when he puts down his cell phone and starts his light chats of what you did in the day... and his hand is still there. almost like marking territory with gentle squeezes that you let be, you know that was something he loved and relaxed him, and in your eyes, he deserved every little thing from you, just as you did from him. you couldn't deny it, especially when he squeezed your chest again and again under your shirt making you laugh while he kept chattering about his job. only then did he realize it and apologize, but he blatantly kept his hand. "it's just that they're soft..." he excused himself, kissing your hair and sinking into it enthusiastically.

your whole body was his temple of rest, he couldn't simply rest in bed if he didn't have you by his side. it was no use if he couldn't touch you, feel you, kiss you every time he wanted to. there was no need for them to talk, each one would be in his own little world for a while, but that habit of having your body next to him he would love for the rest of his life. because thanks to you, he can rest.

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hg-aneh · 7 months

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Hi! I absolutely love all of your art and I’ve been fallowing you for awhile! There’s been some rumors that you ship Muriel x crowley?? Which I guess is an odd paring but nothing terrible wrong with, I was just curious if you do ship them.

Thank you for all your wonderful art <3

okay, i want to preface this by saying that I've already been harassed over this to the point of being called a lowkey pedophile and having every little move of mine scrutinized and misconstrued to sickening extents (this harassment spilled over to my partner too, and it was horrible)

so all anyone would do by doing this again would be repeating history, among other things that have to do with fucking up my already frail mental state

now.

onto the meat

yes, I ship it

no, I do not see Muriel as a child, kid, teenager, or anything of the sort and I find it personally distasteful to think of doing so because infantilizing autistic traits rubs me the wrong way (p e r s o n a l l y)

you can do it if you want to, I have worse things to worry about than a random person on the internet thinking something of a fictional character, just don't try to push your headcanon onto me just because you perceive it that way or because it's a popular dynamic that you find fun

adding onto this, i want to add that i will never and i mean fucking NEVER post anything related to that ship outside of the very specific private Xitter account i created for it

(and my personal facebook, on a friends only setting)

any Muriel & Crowley content outside of that account is all platonic and bla bla you get the gist. I can separate things, what a talent.

Now, I'm being overly paranoid and explaining myself to exhaustion over this for a very good reason and it's because last time someone found out about it ((yes we're going full circle to the beginning of this little bible)) they treated it as some sort of GOTCHA moment about me being a pedo ((and if you didn't know this already: I fucking despise children with my whole being, I'd rather be forcefed alligator shit for my whole life than be with one of those creatures for a single day))

It got to the point of that person making extremely hurtful videos about me and their little friend group comprised of goober eating toddlers joining in on the "Hater" train or whatever the hell that new cultural trend is called, as well

It was hell, that whole experience fucked me up BAD and i feel silly for saying this but it was genuinely traumatic! So- I apologize if I'm sounding confrontational here, anon, but like, this is the type of thing you have to do to keep yourself safe now, it's gone to that point and I'm in hysterics now because what the fuck

Lastly, I'd like to say this one other thing

Muriel is played by an adult actress, they are canonically the same age as Aziraphale and Crowley and are also an eldritch creature just like them

The fact that they're nice and bubbly and happen to have autistic traits doesn't suddenly make them a fetus. I have friends with the same personality type as them and I feel like it'd be dumb to treat them like zygotes knowing they're adults with body hair and debt

Again, if you see them as one, I'm literally no one to judge, I'm 1.49, you're better off taking judgement from a stupid lone penguin in the saharan desert.

But don't fuck with others for thinking otherwise, it's not a moral issue to disagree with a headcanon, please. 🥲

#aneh answers #aneh cries #im still not over that whole thing bruh it fucked me up good #aneh wont shut up #and thank you anon #and also sorry #this shit is looooong #disk horse #discourse

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crowfanity · 1 year

Photo

Some more text post memes!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(ID under cut)

[ID: A series of ten text post memes with Ace Attorney character sprites

The first image is a twitter post with Miles Edgeworth looking smug. The tweet reads “proud to announce that i am making a Bad decision but I’m not telling y’all what it is so u can’t stop me”.

The second image is of a tumblr post. An anon with Athena Cykes’ angry sprite next to it asks “Have you ever met someone who you just weren’t able to bully?” Underneath it is Simon Blackquill’s sprite with a smirk next to the response “no. I’m a very unpleasant person”.

The third picture is of a joke article title that says “If You Want To Achieve Enlightenment, You’re Gonna Have To Go Through Me”. In the corner is a picture of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi with his hand up in meditation.

The fourth photo is a tumblr screenshot. It says “my flatmate has just rocked in with the two lesbianest lesbians I’ve ever seen and introduced them as “my sister and my sister’s... roommate”. Underneath it has Kay Faraday grinning on the left, and on the right is Ema Skye’s confident sprite from Investigations next to pictures of Lana Skye with a neutral expression and Mia Fey smiling with her arms crossed.

The fifth image is a twitter conversation. The first tweet has a picture of teenage Maya Fey looking solemn with her head tilted down a bit. The text reads “The realization that the switch is 5 years old and they’re probably gonna reveal their next console in a couple of years just hit me like a fucking truck”. Underneath that is a response saying “I used to go into hospitals and switched the babies around. You can’t do stuff like that anymore, too many cameras.” To the right of that comment is a picture of Zak Gramarye in his magician outfit with his hands on his hips and laughing.

The sixth picture is of a single twitter post. In the bottom right corner is a picture of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi smiling with his eyes closed. The tweet says “Back in Uni, a girl mocked my presentation one time so I searched for her group and asked the topic they were presenting on. I spent 4 days researching on it and asked her so many questions like it was common knowledge that she cried. Stay blessed precious one.”

The seventh picture is of a short Facebook conversation. The first names are censored but the two commenters have the same last name. The first post says “I’d kill my own brother to be in bed right now I don’t even care” with a smiling emoji at the end. To the lower right of the comment is a picture of Aura Blackquill smiling with her chin in her hand as she leans on an upset Clonco. To the left of the second comment is a sprite of Simon Blackquill glaring. The reply says “I’d like to see you try you silly cunt I’ll put you in the fucking ground”.

The eighth photo is of a Grindr conversation. The first message is on the right with a yellow text box and just says “hey” next to a sprite of trilogy Phoenix Wright smiling awkwardly and rubbing the back of his head. The next two messages are on the left and have blue text boxes next to a sprite of Larry Butz playfully rubbing the back of his head with his eyes closed and tongue sticking out. The messages from him read “Hey” “Just so you know I’m not gay or anything”. The next message is next to a sprite of Phoenix looking confused/annoyed and sweating. It says “this is grindr my guy”. The response is next to an image of Larry looking angry with his eyes closed, teeth clenched, and hands balled into fists. The message says “I guess people who are lactose intolerant can’t walk down the fucking dairy aisle? I’m just looking”.

The ninth image is of a single tweet. In the upper right is Athena Cykes’ thinking sprite as she touches her earring. In the bottom right is a sprite of Simon Blackquill looking up and away from the camera and frowning. The tweet reads “My uncle, the countriest guy I know, just said “I fuckin hate seeing chipmunks cause it means there ain’t no big cool birds around””.

The last photo is of a single tweet in a chat format. In the upper right is a picture of Wocky Kitaki with his arms crossed and smirking awkwardly while looking away, looking smug yet nervous. Underneath him is Apollo Justice’s disheartened sprite, slouching forward a bit and looking annoyed/exhausted. The tweet says “me: [whispering to my lawyer]” “my lawyer: I’m not asking that” “me: [whispering some more]” “my lawyer: your honor would he still be guilty if he was a worm”.

/End of ID]

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beskarandblasters · 7 months

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Mothman Fever

Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!

Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow.

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat.

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks.

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background.

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details.

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant.

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on.

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices.

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends.

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it.

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time.

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man.

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around.

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave.

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her.

“And what about it?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks.

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs.

“Agreed,” Tara nods.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly.

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction.

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt.

And now you feel self conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname.

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!”

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends.

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind.

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks.

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks.

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says.

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions.

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison.

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse.

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!”

And with that you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music.

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.

“You would?” you counter.

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs.

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far.

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now.

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out.

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?”

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state.

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar.

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street.

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him.

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual.

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs.

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later.

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you.

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes.

The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again.

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl.

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud.

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp.

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs.

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next.

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling.

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter.

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm.

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you.

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh.

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.”

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night.

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded.

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces.

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says.

“I lost track of time!” you reply.

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds.

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say.

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there’s flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him.

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word.

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it?

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter.

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel:

Hey, will I see you tonight?

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly.

Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel.

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you.

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look.

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found.

You type out:

I don’t see you. Where are you?

He replies:

Look behind you.

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found.

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday.

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel?

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you.

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes.

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable.

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice.

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him.

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him.

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough.

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine.

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours.

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious.

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you.

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless.

Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you.

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone.

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there’s still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs.

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags.

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state.

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.

They both shake their heads no and you sigh.

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using.

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag.

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

Until next time, Luna🦋

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition.

Part two

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: E-Vite 4/20 [A New Hire interlude]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 4,382

Summary: Ari’s mate finds herself invited to a brunch featuring more than just bottomless mimosas.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Mob AU, Age Gap, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: i’m so sorry this is so late! but (i hope) it’s worth it! takes place roughly a week or so before reader and Ari leave for Paris. a little character development i think you’ll all enjoy. divider by @firefly-graphics. dedicated to @cocobutterqwueen, who prompted this work ❤️

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You purse your lips, your brows drawing together critically as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You heave a dissatisfied sigh, brushing imaginary dirt from the hem of your white tennis skirt.

“Too much?” You mutter, rocking back and forth on the heels of your matching ivory sneakers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” The silver charms on your bracelet jingle softly as you begin wiggling out of your skirt, trying to undo the hook-eye closure on the back. You aren’t expecting to see your mate there, leaned in the doorway of the walk-in closet with an amused smile playing at the edges of his full lips.

“Third outfit in fifteen minutes, Sweetheart. You nervous?” There’s a teasing note in his voice that makes you pout, shaking your head even though it’s obvious he’s right.

“No, I’m not nervous.” You continue fiddling with the zipper until Ari closes his hands around yours. It’s silly, to be this anxious about meeting a bunch of people you’ve already been talking to for weeks, but you are. Joining Moms of Riverside County had been a whim. At most, you had expected to find new dinner recipes, maybe a few fun things to do with Liam. Instead, you’d found… a community?

Some of the members were a little out there, but there were far more good apples than bad. People posted pictures, shared memes— not pronounced “may-mays” as Ari had pointed out, to your embarrassment. There was even a group-chat, which you had recently been invited to—✨🔥 Cool Moms of Riverside County🔥✨, which had given you a good laugh. You weren’t particularly active yet, but even so you had been tagged and invited to a private brunch being hosted by one of the members you actually talked to with some regularity.

Come if you can! We’d love to see you! Sabrina’s casual message outside of the group chat had left you scrambling to respond last night, typing out at least thirty messages and showing them to Ari before deciding on one.

Okay! Thanks for inviting me, I wold love to come!

“I-it’s just a facebook group thing.” You mumble, and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“It’s okay to be a little nervous about meeting your internet friends for the first time.” He must feel it in the bond, the electric apprehension running through every one of your limbs and down to the tips of your fingers and toes. “Just be yourself, Sweetheart. Trust me, they’ll love you.” He turns to exit the closet, but pokes his head back in. “And I like the skirt.”

An hour later, you’re in the Jeep on your way across town, Sabrina’s address punched into your phone’s GPS. You’re trying to think of potential conversation topics in your head, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. You’d already checked the list of people in attendance—only ten, including you.

Exclusive.

Sabrina’s house is half an hour outside of the city, nestled in the rolling hills off the highway. The private drive is blocked off by a wrought iron gate that you have to pull up to an intercom to get open. You lean out of the window, jabbing your thumb into the button.

“Yes? Who is it? Shh, Adrian!”

You lick your lips nervously. “Um, it’s uh, it’s—”

“Oh wait, I know who you are! I can see you on the camera. Come on in, girl!” The intercom buzzes loudly and the fence slides smoothly out of the way. It takes a full three minutes to get from the gate to the house, and when you pull up, there’s a line of expensive looking cars parked along the side. You take up the rear, taking a deep breath before hopping out. Gravel crunches under your feet, and as you’re heading up the stairs the front door opens.

“OhmyGod Hi!” You recognize Adrian from his pictures, his long dark hair piled up in a bun on top of his head. “How are you? Come in, come in,” he motions you forward with a wide smile. In one hand is a half full glass of wine, and he hugs you with the other. Underneath his rather fruity cologne is a distinctly Alpha scent, and when you pull away, you spot half a ring of teeth marks on the skin beneath his collar.

“Good, thanks,” you sputter, stepping over the threshold. It’s a monster of a house, the ceiling looming far above you. The air is heavy with the scent of warm sugar and brown butter, like someone’s baking. You cast a look around the foyer, there are pictures of Sabrina with her children, her husband—who just so happens to be the headmaster of Liam’s school. You toe off your shoes in the entryway, and Adrian scoffs.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Sabrina doesn’t give a shit about mud on her carpets,” he laughs.

“Habit, I guess,” you say, your own nervous laughter ringing awkwardly in the air with his. “I, um, have-have you been in the group long?” The questions you practiced in the car tangle confusedly together on your tongue.

“Like three years, I think?” He waves his hand as he shrugs. “But it got a lot more fun when Sab starting modding. Way more jokes.” He fixes you with a sly smile. “Let’s go get you a drink!” You tail Adrian through the house, and the sound of voices gets louder and louder as you go. The long hallway opens up into a massive kitchen, and a gaggle of people surround the marble island in the center of it, only a few of whom you recognize.

“Ladies,” Adrian claps his palm against his khaki-clad thigh, holding his wine glass aloft as he raises his voice to get their attention. “And gentle man,” he giggles, placing his palm against his chest, “Our last guest has arrived.” You duck your head in embarrassment as a little cheer ripples through the rest of the attendees.

“Sorry I’m late, I think the e-vite said 4:20—”

“Girl please.” You recognize Keisha’s fiery orange locs from her profile picture. “I just got here ten minutes ago. Sabrina! Girl where are you? You know I don’t know where you keep the glasses in this maze.” By your count, there are about seven people here, eight, including you. “Are you sure she’s the last one, Adrian? I thought Barb and Hannah were coming, too?”

“Kayla’s got chicken pox, they cancelled this morning,” Adrian replies. “They’re fine, though, said she’s holding up well. Marathonning every episode of Bluey, apparently.” As the two of you join everyone else at the counter, Sabrina appears in the opposite doorway.

“Sorry, I went to get a lighter. Glasses are above the sink—hi! I’m so glad you could make it!” Sabrina is tiny, strawberry blonde curls piled on top of her head and secured with the biggest, pinkest bow you’ve ever seen. She reminds you of a Malibu Barbie—mansion and all. Sabrina rushes over to you, quickly depositing the tray of what looks like cigarette papers and lighters on the counter before hugging you tightly.

“Thanks for coming!” Sabrina looks genuinely happy to see you. They make room for you around the island. “I just moved here like a year and a half ago and it is so hard to make friends.”

You let out a relieved breath. “I know exactly what you mean.” You had been nervous about coming, about whether or not you were actually going to fit-in . It feels like there are huge holes where general knowledge should be about how to act, what to say. All the culturally relevant gossip you know hit it’s expiration date a decade ago—but surprisingly, you don’t feel as terrified of that as you had been before arriving.

The conversation flows easily, and you finish your first glass of wine with a comfortable, warm buzz. Adrian makes it his business to serve the cooled cookies, and when you take two, he laughs.

“Okay, girl, I see you!” You blush as you bite down, gooey chocolate coating your tongue.

“I didn’t eat before I came,” you admit, polishing off the first cookie and starting on the second. “These are so good,” you add, and Sabrina preens.

“Thank you! I baked them myself.” Sabrina ducks down beneath the island countertop, and you hear the sound of a drawer rolling open, and then shut again. “I will admit I found the recipe online, though.” As she stands, she tosses a plastic bag of—

Oh my God.

Your eyes widen as the baggie of weed lands on the table, and they dart worriedly to the faces of everyone else there. No one seems surprised or upset, in fact, Keisha claps excitedly.

“Good,” she chirps, plucking a single paper from one of the packs on the silver tray. “I’ll roll.”

You shift nervously on your feet, unsure of what to do. You’ve never smoked before—the most you’ve ever done is drink alcohol, and even that you don’t do with any regularity. Ari’s beers in the fridge at home remain mostly untouched by you, and the occasional glass of wine is the extent of what you generally allow yourself. Not that you mind, really—

You tap jittery fingers against the granite, and Adrian clucks his tongue at you.

“What’s wrong, babes?” His eyebrows crease with concern. “Not a joint person?”

“N-no?” You force yourself to calm down—these are all adults, and it’s not like it’s… illegal here, per-say. “I um, I haven’t actually ever… smoked. Marijuana.”

“You haven’t?” Sabrina’s gaze moves worriedly from your face to the half-eaten tray of cookies and back again. “Are you… kidding?”

You sigh, dragging an embarrassed hand down your face. “No. Ugh, my… my parents were um. Really strict. Sorry. I’m not a narc or anything, I just, um, never really—” Sabrina grabs your hand with a soft smile and the rambling word vomit screeches to a halt.

“You don’t have to explain yourself at all. I just, well, I kind of thought you knew, to be honest.”

“Knew?”

“Yeah, it’s said 4/20 brunch, on 4/20,” she looks at you with a leading expression, but whatever reference she’s trying to make flies entirely over your head. You raise an eyebrow.

“That wasn’t… the time?”

“420 means weed girl!” Adrian yelps, doubling over with raucous laughter. He rests a hand on his hip as he gasps for air. “This was a weed brunch!” You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning. “Oh my God the cookies! You ate two of them!” Cold realization crosses your face as you turn to face them in horror.

“There was weed in the cookies!?”

—

Ari is waiting for you in the kitchen when you call—he’d been expecting you home half an hour ago, and though he wasn’t worried, he was beginning to get antsy. The bond is open—wide open, in fact—and your hazy amusement permeate it like smoke.

“Hi, Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks, and you giggle.

“ I’m good. I’m so-oo-oo good, ” you sing, drawing out the syllables. There’s a loud splash, and Ari raises an eyebrow as you gasp loudly through the receiver.

“Don’t drop your phone!”

“I’m not gonna dro-op it,” you hiccough, and Ari can practically hear your pout. “She said I was going to drop my phone, but I’m not going to drop it—”

“Kitten. What is—”

“Can you come get me?” You say, cutting him off in a dreamy, small voice. “I don’t think I should drive. The floor is moving.” Ari pulls away from the phone, staring at it with confused, narrowed eyes.

“The floor is… moving.” He repeats your babble, just to make sure he’s hearing it right. You heave a relieved sigh, as if he’s validated some previously held suspicion.

“Yes. And I really don’t think I should drive. I’m all wet.”

“Okay baby. Can you send me your friend’s address? I’m going to call Martine over in case Liam wakes up, and then I will come and get you.”

“Okay.” You hang up with no warning, leaving your confused and exasperated mate staring at his phone. It takes several minutes—and quite a few nonsensical strings of emojis—before the address comes through.

She’s drunk, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. A little wry smile plays at the edges of his mouth as he buckles himself into the Bentley. She has to be. He’s not upset as he turns out of the driveway, skirting generously around Martine’s car. He’s glad you’ve made friends—the tight fist your father had kept around your life has left a lasting impression, one Ari is eager to erase.

The traffic choking the highway eases as he circles around the city, the exit dumping him out into the rolling foothills on its outskirts. The address you’d sent him is one that takes him into familiar territory, and when he pulls up to the gate, it buzzes open before he has a chance to push the button on the intercom.

Ari exits the vehicle, taking stock of each car lined up in the driveway—including yours. He pauses at the front steps, listening, before making his way around back instead. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as he rounds the side of the house. Your scent is here too, cut with others and diluted by the smell of chlorine and charcoal smoke. The yard opens up before him, carefully manicured green surrounding the deeply set in-ground pool.

“I don’t remember inviting the mob.” An amused voice makes Ari turn, before he scoffs.

“You wouldn’t have to, Sabrina, you married it.” He replies, shaking his head before reaching down for a hug. “It’s been a while.” Sabrina tokes long and hard on the joint in her hand before she laughs.

“You’re telling me. What are you doing here?”

“My mate is here.” Ari peers over Sabrina’s blonde head, squinting at the pool. “The one on the pizza floaty.”

You’re sprawled on the double-wide rubber float, chatting animatedly to a man sitting on the pool steps up to his waist. Sabrina claps her hands, loud, animated laughter escaping her grinning mouth.

“That’s your mate? Oh my God. I think—I think I’m gonna pee.” She doubles over, while Ari frowns down at her. “Sorry. Sorry. I just—Odd couple. In my defense, she is the sweetest person on earth, and you’re… you.” Ari purses his lips.

“Yes, well, you’re related to me,” he says dryly. “I still don’t think you’ve forgiven me for putting worms in your hair.”

“I haven’t. It was disgusting.”

“I was eight.”

Sabrina ignores him, flicking a honey-blonde lock over her shoulder before making her way over to the pool. She wades in, waving to get your attention. You look utterly relaxed, your limbs draped loosely across the floaty. Your fingers and toes trail in the water as a you drift. You sit up as Sabrina approaches, and for a moment, your wild hair is framed perfectly in the light of the setting sun.

Little lioness.

The words she speaks to you are snatched away by the wind as Ari approaches, squatting by the edge of the pool. You’re wearing a swimsuit you no doubt borrowed from Sabrina, a bikini he suspects is at least one size too small. Sliding off the edge of the pizza-shaped float, you wade over to him, a dopey smile on your face.

“Ari!”

“Hi, Kitten.” He leans down when you reach wet hands up to hug him. Ari doesn’t mind, drawing his fingers affectionately over your bare shoulders and back as he presses his face to the side of your throat. He can’t help but check. Underneath the heavy scent of the chlorine—and a light coating of weed-smoke—is your true scent. Just yours, like he’d known it would be. He kisses your forehead. You giggle.

“I did what you said,” you whisper loudly. “It worked! I just said, um, that I never smoked, but then I ate the cookie—two cookies, I think. Maybe more?” The story devolves into meaningless ramble that leaves Ari laughing.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time, Kitten.”

“So this is the mate.” A lanky Alpha with a joint in a rather fancy looking cigarette holder appraises Ari, his other hand resting on his hip. He offers it to shake. “Adrian. The pleasure is yours.” Ari shakes it. “We did try to keep her out of the pool but she made some very convincing arguments.”

“I see,” Ari replies, chuckling as you give a stout nod from the pool. “She does have a habit of getting her way.” The resulting pout that forms on your full lips is worth the half-truth. You make your way toward the pool ladder, slipping once before finding your footing. You’re sopping wet, water running in rivulets down your soft skin. Up close, the swimsuit you’re wearing is even smaller, the fabric straining to hold back the supple flesh of your breasts.

Ari clears his throat, and Adrian snickers. He shoots the other male an irritated look, but Adrian only grins.

“I packed you a to-go bag, chica. It’s in your purse. You crazy kids have a good night.” He winks, and you wave absently.

“You too, Adrian!” You turn back to Ari. “He’s nice, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his eyes up from the curve of your hip where the tie is sinking sinfully into the soft skin there. “Nice. Where did you get this?” He fingers the spaghetti thin strap at your shoulder. Sabrina sidles up next to you with a knowing grin, looping her arm around your shoulders.

“Well, I couldn’t let her just jump in, Ari.” He levels an annoyed glare at her. “What kind of cousin would I be if I let your mate ruin her nice clothes?” You gasp exaggeratedly.

“Cousin?”

“First or second, or something like that,” Ari grumbles. She laughs.

“Remind me to tell you the worm story,” she replies conspiratorially, clapping you on the back. “You go get your clothes.”

“I’ll be right back,” You press a kiss to Ari’s cheek. He can’t help but watch you walk away, the damp fabric wedging itself neatly between the cheeks of your ass. God-fucking-dammit.

“It reeks out here,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You’d better not be turning my mate into a pothead. I don’t want to have to get into weed distribution, you know how messy that is.” Sabrina waves a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense. Thad’s got a great thing going on with Rogers and Barnes on the east coast. He can cut you in if you want.” She winks. “I like her, you know. Genuinely had no idea she was, um. Yours.” Ari smiles, in spite of himself.

“It’s hard not to love her.”

Ari opts to wait out front, and he isn’t out there long before you stumble out clutching your purse. Your shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from your skirt, exposing the swimsuit you’re still wearing underneath. You look up at him apologetically through your lashes.

“Thank you for coming, Ari, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be, Kitten,” he chuckles, helping you down the steps toward the car. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

You loose a high pitched giggle. “I had so-oo much fun. S-Sabrina’s so nice! She said she wants to hang out more. And—” You gasp, turning to him with a suspicious glare. “She said you put worms in her hair.” Ari laughs, shaking his head as he opens the passenger side door. “How could you do that?”

“I’ll bet she didn’t tell you she dumped cat litter on my head the week before,” he replies, shutting the door before you can respond. He can see that you’re talking anyway, chirping brightly to yourself as Ari rounds the front of the car. He’s not quite sure why, but the sight of it makes his heart swell, even as he shakes his head.

“—gross!” You finish, looking at him definitively.

Ari slides into the drivers seat, nodding. “It was.”

“Will we come back for the Jeep?” You ask in a small, guilty voice. “I like the Jeep.” Ari nods, chuckling.

“I promise.” The stoned, dopey smile you shoot him in response makes Ari wonder just how many “cookies” you’d eaten. You slump lazily in the passenger seat, stretching like a cat as he pulls out of the driveway. You sit there, blissfully unaware of the way that fucking bikini is eating away at his nerves. You drag a hand across your bare midsection, absently playing with the loose bikini strings.

Of course you can’t see the way the edges of your dark, puffy nipples spill just over the edges of the triangular scraps of fabric. Sabrina’s attempt to help you maintain your modesty has done exactly the opposite, leaving you so indecently exposed that Ari finds himself wondering how the soft, plump lips of your cunt even fit in the bottoms.

God-fucking-dammit.

Ari knows he should be focusing on the sparsely populated road, on the hour long drive it will take to get you home— not on the way he can see the pebbled outline of your perfect fucking nipples through that flimsy excuse for a bathing suit. Ari dares to glance in your direction again and groans quietly. You’re running your hands along your bare thighs, giggling and gasping at the sensation of your palms on your own skin.

“Ari, I didn’t know I was this soft,” you mumble, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Did you know that?”

He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Jesus, Kitten, you trying to kill me tonight?” He moans, dropping his head back against the seat. You lean over the middle console, an apology already on your trembling lips.

“I’m sorry.” It’s like you’re completely unaware of it, the thrall you have him in as you rest a warm little hand on his thigh. “How can I make it better?”

Martine’s fine at the house with Liam, right?

—

“Oh-oh God!” Your face is hidden, pressed against the hood of the car. Ari has your trembling legs spread as far apart as he can manage, his cock disappearing between the cheeks of your ass. “F-feels— oh— ” You’re even less articulate than usual, your sopping, needy cunt squeezing down around him like a vise.

Ari’s got your little white skirt rucked up around your waist, and the offending bikini pulled to the side so he can watch you take him. Seeing your pussy stretched open wide and straining around the veiny length of his cock is almost as good as feeling it. Ari doesn’t resist the urge to crack the palm of one hand against the cheek of your ass. You squeal, and God the way you fucking clench down is almost enough to make him bust right there—

“Ari!” His name sounds like a desperate prayer on your lips. You’re practically writhing underneath him, your hands forming little fists on the hood of the Bentley. “G-God, feels—” He loves you like this, the words all gibberish on your loose tongue. “Fuck!”

He especially likes it now that you’re high, hoarse curses falling from your lips as you raise yourself up onto your tip toes trying to meet his thrusts. It’s like some of your carefully crafted filter has come apart, allowing through the Kitten that isn’t afraid of judgment or reprisal.

“M’so full,” you whine pathetically, peering over your shoulder at him pleadingly. “More?” He isn’t expecting your breathy, perfect little plea, and the softly uttered request seems to go straight to his cock, and it throbs hard inside you. Ari groans, his head lolling back on his shoulders as he stares unseeingly at the night sky. “More, please.”

The knot at the base of his cock is already starting to swell, and Ari clenches his teeth. Bracing one hand between your shoulders as he anchors the other to your hip.

“More, Kitten?” He asks, chuckling darkly. “Greedy girl. Can you even take more?” Ari draws back until the head of his cock pops out, and he slaps it wetly against your cunt. Slowly, he presses himself into the fucked-swollen mess of your pussy. He doesn’t stop when you begin straining against his knot, murmuring dark words of encouragement.

“You asked for this,” he reminds you, grinning when your forehead hits the hood with a thunk, and you let out a muffled cry. Ari joins you, a harsh growl tearing from his throat as his knot pops inside. “That enough, Kitten?” He asks through clenched teeth. “Your hungry fucking pussy finally full, Sweetheart?”

You push back against him, a lewd squelch filling both your ears. That’s enough of an answer for Ari. He growls, clamping down on the back of your neck with one hand as his fingers sink deep into the meat of your hip. His thrusts are shorter now, but fuller , and each one leaves you mewling and crying. His whole world is condensing down to a single point. You’re all that matters, you, this moment, his cock buried in your slick, sweet core—

“Oh f-fuck, God, Ari, c-cumming—” The nonsense that you manage to string together only barely precedes the way your cunt clamps deliciously around him like a hot wet fist. The pleasurable buzzing in the back of Ari’s skull becomes unbearable, traveling down his spine and shooting like electricity to the base of his cock.

Ari groans, bending over your back to sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you still while he cums. He still doesn’t know how to explain how right it feels to press inside you and let go—like he’s supposed to. Fuck and the feel of you—Ari groans as you shift, your velvet walls shifting against his still hard cock. He leans back, releasing you so that he can stare appreciatively at your cunt. Lips bulged out from the heavy girth of his knot, a mixture of both your fluids leaking out around it.

You peek over your shoulder at him, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your eyebrows are creased together, your glassy eyes shining with real worry.

“Ari?”

“What’s the matter, Kitten?”

“I think I left my phone.”

end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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cheezbites · 7 months

Text

How COD Characters Would Text

✎: I’m such a slow writer/procrastinator so sorry for the slow posts. But I upload lots of skits and I know y’all love those !!😋

♡Summary: Headcanons of how COD characters would text.

Ghost

• He rarely replies to you or sees your messages, as for how you never see him texting you in the first place. (Or even using his phone for that matter). Every once in a blue moon, you would finally see a highlighted double check mark next to your messages.

• Has a black screen set as his profile picture.

• Leaves you on read and you took it personally, but he addresses your texts in real life since he finds the keyboard too confusing, and he doesn't have time to figure it out.

“I saw your text on the... Uh, ‘What App’, the meeting’s going to be at 2:30pm.”

Valeria

• Strictly sends voice notes; she also finds the keyboard too complicated. If she’s in an environment where she can’t send voice messages then she texts you back painstakingly slow, or she doesn’t bother trying.

• She adored calling you to hear your voice and have genuine conversations instead of staring at a screen and repeatedly tapping away. She also loved hearing about your day and what you were up to.

• Texts you at any time but mostly at night.

König

• Would only text you if you texted him; he has his notifications on for vital and crucial things but most importantly when you send him messages. Also a very messy typer, it would be impossible to not find a single typo.

• Has a cute stray cat he saw on a walk as his profile pic.

• König would frequently discover emojis; although you knew them all like the back of your hands you acted oblivious for him.

“🤪🤪 Did u kno this emoji existed?!”

“miawwww🙀!!! This emoji is very silly, we should use it more often.”

“🙈🙊🙈jajaja ich bin ein schüchterner Affe..”

Price

• Sends you corny facebook memes to start your day. You act as if you hated them and they're obnoxious but deep down you love when he sends them. You know it’s an ‘off day’ for him when you don’t receive one.

• He’s a massive punctuation enthusiast, and he doesn't type slow but not too fast despite his age.

“Good morning, how are you doing today?”

“Please ensure to drink lots of water, it’s going to be very hot later on.”

“Please don’t touch Simon’s sandwich in the fridge. He’s feeling very stubborn today.👍”

• Would make a group chat so the group can bond but half of you guys left over petty arguments and the other half are inactive.

• Him fishing on some boat as his profile picture.

Soap

• Has one of the default options as his profile picture. Or him posing with a rifle.

• Sends you memes you actually laugh at, they’re usually short videos. But then on the other hand, he sends you corny puns that you still find yourself laughing at:

Soap: “Y can’t scientist trust atoms?”

Y/N: “???? why”

Soap: “Cause they make up everything!”

Y/N: “hahahah soo funny dude😐”

And behind the screen you have the biggest shit-eating grin.

• Always double texts you, even if you say you’re busy and can’t take messages. Not even that, he’d triple text you because he can and nothing is stopping him.

• He’s on Do Not Disturb most of the time from all the spam emails he receives, mostly because he carelessly gave out his information to dodgy websites.

Gaz

• Over shares information so casually and then changes the subject, it honestly baffles you at times. To him, there's no such thing as TMI.

“Nearly got run over heading to the shops, but how are you?”

“There was a stabbing at the local chippy shop. What’s for dinner?”

“Just saw a homeless person buy drugs with money someone accidentally dropped. Fun day.”

• Texts you all the time, the moment you send him a message he opens it no matter what time it is or where he’s at.

• Has a selfie as his profile picture.

Alejandro

• Would try-hard being cool so he uses a shit ton of emojis in nearly every text, you can't help but laugh at his failed efforts. And expect lots of typos from him, too.

“Yo😁 any plans todsy🤔🤔??”

“Jow do I turn dowm the brightness.😎☀️”

• He only messages you in the afternoon, in the morning he's too occupied and at night he’s getting that beauty sleep.

• You’re like his tech assistant, always helping him with the simplest of things. This one time, he set his keyboard to another language and was only messaging in Arabic until you could help him set it back to English.

Rudy

• Spams you like it’s super urgent, only to say: “never mind, it’s not important” knowing damn well he had nothing to say in the first place.

“hello?!??!”

“pick up y/n, very important. asap!!!!!”

“are you dead? where are you.”

And once you do get back to him…

“nvm the issue was resolved.”

• Turned off auto capitalisation, but he’s still punctual every now and then. Never sends emojis.

• On that note, whenever you say “ur” he does that know-it-all thing which we all know and hate where he says “You’re*”.

Horangi

• A mix of voice notes and texts, he generally does not text whatsoever even if it’s urgent. If you wanted to reach him you had to do so face-to-face.

• He would leave you on read with no shame and forget what you even sent ten seconds later.

• Is committed to that default image as his profile picture, he knows how to change it but he can't be bothered and he doesn’t even know what to change it to.

Keegan

• When he sends voice notes he acts confused as to why you’d bookmark them. (Fully aware girls simp for his voice - it’s a massive ego boost at times).

• Calls you early in the morning, (really early). As he knows you inevitably snooze your alarm and stay in bed for ‘a few more minutes’ but you stay glued there until the afternoon. It’s a really efficient way of waking you up so you’re not complaining.

Masterlist

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annoyedlord · 8 months

Note

Do you have any other funny anectode or conversation between you and jerome? I literally die of laughter everytime i find your posts with him and i wanna laugh more

I do have fews haha

Me, ending my powerpoint: And that's what happened to me during the last 2 months we didn't got to see each other. Therapist: ... Listen, I'm gonna be honest, I had a blast with your powerpoint, but I still don't understand why your boyfriend's cat wanna murder you. Me: Oh that's the part you remember of the whole powerpoint??? Therapist: I mean, you drew a cat with a knife in his mouth of course I remember it.

---

Me: I'm going to [place] for vacations! :) Therapist: Oh that's nice! Never been there! Me, jokingly: Aw, im having a first time before you. Therapist: Don't be silly, you're doing many thing I never did. Me: Like guys, haha. Therapist: No. Me: Me: WHAT.

---

Me talking about traumatic events: (...) my father- Therapist: He's a bitch, a horrible person, a moron and a terrible human being. Me: Me: I feel like you're not very objective. Therapist: No, I'm being factual.

---

Therapist: You should come back to group therapy! The group changed, you'll fit in, we have many queer people now! Me: Oh, did it really change? Therapist: Yes, but also they ask sometimes questions I don't have answers to, like stuff about neopronouns and I don't know shit about that. Me: I do! Therapist: That's also why I'd love you to come back to group therapy.

---

Me: I wanna smoke a cig, dammit. Therapist: Me too, hold on i'm gonna open the window so we can do it. Me: Isn't that illegal to smoke inside the building? Therapist: I don't do by the laws if it means having an early cig-break.

---

Me: Oh, last time I was bored af, I decided to look up some people I knew on facebook, and I found you. Therapist: How. How did you. Me: My dude, I know your full name and your face AND you're sometimes on facebook while i'm here. Therapist: Alright, for the last bit, I admit it's not a very smart move of mine.

---

Therapist: I wanna see you next week, but I've no room on my schedule, hold on... Me: I can see you the following week, no big- Therapist: I moved one of my professional meeting, so see you on friday. Me: Me: Please tell me it wasn't important. Therapist: I won't :)

#Jerome the therapist #Have a few i don't think they're as funny but we had very serious sessions recently sooo xD #But sometimes he calls me son and I find it funny haha

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orthopoogle · 1 month

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Speaking as someone who grew up in a heavily Christian community, it makes me sad how much the people around me just…I don’t know, lost their faith in the last decade or so?

When I was little, my parents were really big on having us go to church. They were church hoppers in that they didn’t commit us to a single denomination and just kind of tried out different churches in town, but they still went out of their way to make sure their babies were baptized, that we made it to somewhere on Sundays, that my older brother and I went to Sunday school classes and participated in the church choir and watched VeggieTales and had church friends to play with and all of that. This sort of kept up with the next two kids—we weren’t so active at church anymore, but those babies were still baptized, we still talked about God and Jesus in the home, my parents sent me and my older brother to a Christian summer camp one year. But then, by the time my youngest two brothers were born, we just didn’t go to church anymore, not even on holidays. Jesus was an afterthought on Christmas and Easter. The youngest two were never even baptized. As of two years ago, my youngest brothers didn’t even know what Good Friday was for, let alone know anything about the Bible. We transitioned from being a fairly devout household to being all but agnostic.

I knew a lot of girls growing up who were very devout Christians in school. They were in youth groups, they made pledges to save themselves for marriage, they went to church every Sunday, they knew their Bible verses left and right. Now, I look at their profiles on Facebook, and most of the ones who didn’t unfriend me over Roe v. Wade being overturned are pretty much secular libfems now who will bite your head off if you even so much as hint that you don’t support abortion or the LGBT agenda.

There’s also generally just not as much open talk about following Christianity anymore. Growing up, my teachers who were Christians were open about it, but of course in a “this is my personal belief, but you don’t have to agree with me” type of way. Now, one of the teachers on my grade level team mentioned to the rest of us that she goes to a Baptist church with her husband, and she felt like she had to sound sheepish and apologetic over even mentioning it, I guess because she felt like there would be some snarky remark or demand for an explanation if she didn’t?

As a kid, I used to hear about how the end of the world would be devastating for non-Christians, and I always thought, “Well that’s silly! Who could reject Jesus?” Now I’ve grown up and am seeing the very same people I once considered to be intense believers reject Him like it’s no big deal at all.

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boringkate · 3 months

Text

I watched Lena Dunham's Sharp Stick (2022) with a babe last month. Which I absolutely loved!!!

It's never explicitly acknowledged, but the main character is clearly supposed to be (despite the producers claiming otherwise) in some way neurodivergent. Or something. She's meek and impossibly sexually naive (to the point where me and the girl I watched it with had initially assumed the character was intended to be a child). Apparently they had approached an autism sexuality advocate to work as a consultant for the film before backpeddling.

Trans girls tend to be autistic.

The main character also had a hysterectomy (as did Lena Dunham).

Trans girls tend to be infertile.

She's shown taking estrogen.

Trans girls tend to take estrogen.

She becomes obsessed with porn and begins having one night stands with random men from the internet in hopes of finding validation by proving her sexual desirability.

Trans girls tend to do that shit.

It ends with her realizing and leaning into her impregnation fetish (while getting fucked by the one black guy she knows who had just brought over some 40s and called them homies and also while her black step sister's hands unexpectedly drift in from off screen to hold her because even when she managed to push it off to the last second Lena Dunham is incapable of being chill and normal about race).

Trans girls can't go ten seconds without making the same joke about how if you don't think you can get a trans girl pregnant then you just aren't trying hard enough (and the frequent fetishization of black men in trans and especially neighboring sissy communities can't really be denied).

Also the bartender is played by Tommy Dorfman (a trans woman) with it being her first time playing a character with a girl name.

But I'm not trying to suggest it's intentionally a movie about the tgirl excperience. That would be silly. Really the takeaway should be that (no matter how varied women's lives may be) we (trans women and cis women etc) can still always find common ground and shared excperiences. We're all in this together.

But anyways I was looking at Lena Dunham's Instagram yesterday (I've been off and on again rewatching Girls, so she's stayed on my mind).

One post features the music video she directed starring famed trans girl Hari Nef.

Another post shows that she recently read trans boy Elliot Paige's memoir Paige Boy.

Another post shows a conversation she had with Jon Bernthal (on his podcast) where she explains the word cis to him and talks about having also explained it to her husband (this is the only clip from her appearance on the podcast that she chose to post).

BTW did you know that she was an executive producer for the 2021 show Genera+ion (which I recall featuring a trans boy actor playing a cis boy character who gets a girl pregnant).

Fascinating!

Meanwhile. Ten years earlier. In 2013 (a year into my transition and a year before Time declared that we've reached the trans tipping point) an episode of Girls features a doorman telling one of the titular Girls that "a tranny walked in last time and he was just walking around the floors, but it was nothing." (lmao)

UPDATE: s05e02 features a "did you just assume my pronouns" bit. (in a way that felt reactionary and gross because the theyfab saying it was an absurd hipster barista that the audience isn't intended to sympathize with)

UPDATE UPDATE: s06e02 features the leader of a group for women entrepreneurs saying "For those of you asking on our Facebook if the group is open to trans women: The answer is: We don't know. Okay?" (which I thought was fun)

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: s06e03 (the literal next episode) "I even went to a couple of hookers and one of them had a dick."

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balthazarslostlibrary · 8 months

Text

Things that some people new to foraging fungi do that are not good, annoying, or just plain silly:

- Posting on places like reddit or Facebook for ID of a mushroom that their pet or child ate. Don’t do that. If you think your pet or child has been poisoned, go to a vet or doctor and bring the fungus with you, or at the very least call a poisons hotline. Most national poisons hotlines have people who are good at identifying fungi since this kind of thing happens all the time

- Going out and harvesting every single edible mushroom you can find and coming back with literal bags full. I am pretty avid about foraged fungi, but I have never been able to get through more than a kilo of foraged fungi before they go bad unless I am eating heavily mushroom-based meals every day, or if I spend basically two days dehydrating and processing them. When you take more than you could possibly use or share, you’re just leaving nothing for anyone else and wasting something that other people or wildlife could have eaten.

- Overharvesting in general. Yes, I know that picking mushrooms doesn’t harm the mycelium underground and all that. However, mushrooms are what spreads the spores around and makes the possibility of more colonies starting elsewhere. If you pick every single mushroom you can see, then you are damaging the ability for that colony to propagate. This is especially so for fungi that you are meant to harvest before they mature like certain boletes and shaggy inkcaps.

- Asking for help IDing after picking or damaging a fungus. You can take photos while it’s in nature just as easily as if it was in your living room. If you don’t want to get dirty kneeling down to take photos of the undersides of gills, maybe consider a different hobby. I have seen SO many people post photos on fungi groups when they are handling it in their house without gloves on. I know you can’t get poisoned just from touching a mushroom, but it’s incredibly easy to touch your face, mouth, or eyes absentmindedly, or the faces of other people you are responsible for. The worst example of this I remember seeing is the fungi on someone’s living room table with their very young child within grabbing distance of the mushroom (in this case, it was a deathcap). You don’t want to end up like point one of this list.

- Posting ghost orchids. This is less serious and more just my pet peeve, but COME ON. It looks like a FLOWER.

- On that note, asking for an ID without bothering to do a single search yourself. It will stop people like me mocking you for posting photos of flowers in a mycology group thinking they are mushrooms.

I see all of these constantly.

#mini rant #I can only see so many photos of people overharvesting chanterelles before I go insane #mycology #fungi #foraging

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