#'yes i will do this thing you are asking me to do' FUNDAMENTALLY misses the point of captain america

[sleepwalk-living]

~

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 3

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: You try to bring Michael out of his shell but he's not making it easy on you. After a few confessions at the pub things get heated. First kisses and first oral (male receiving). Touch starved sub Michael.

Word count: +4200

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read the first chapters Here

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All my fics are also on AO3

***

The pub felt overcrowded, too warm and too loud and the majority of visitors was drunk or halfway there. This right here was exactly why you had stopped going out every week. You’d only been here fifteen minutes and you already missed the comfort and silence of your room.

It was hard to imagine these people in front of you were among the best and smartest students in the world and were supposed to be the future of the country. It was clear you were all doomed.

You took another sip from your Bacardi Breezer and scanned the room for Michael but there was no sign of him yet. When someone placed a soft hand on your shoulder you turned around with a hopeful smile but it faded as soon as you saw who the hand belonged to. 

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed.

Ben leaned in much too close for your liking to be able to talk to you over the music,”How’s it going?”

“It was going great until just now,” you replied, trying to ignore him and praying for Michael to arrive any minute now.

“Let me rephrase that,” he smirked,”How are things going with you and Michael?”

“It’s going, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you nodded, looking into his eyes,”I had to improvise a little but I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“It better, you know what’s at stake.”

“Yes, I fucking know, okay,” you snapped, shooting daggers at him,”You fucking pathetic asshole.”

Ben just laughed and you were ten seconds away from slapping him in the face when you noticed Michael stepping through the door.

He looked like a fish out of water, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes cast down to the floor as he tried to make his way through the crowd and tried to avoid bumping into people. When he noticed you his lips curled into a small smile and he gave you a little awkward wave. You couldn’t help but smile back and you rushed over to him, and as far away from Ben as you could.

“Hey,” Michael nodded, avoiding your eyes and biting his lip anxiously. You had never seen him this nervous before. He looked like he was about to bolt any minute now and you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Hey,” you give him an encouraging smile,”Can you at least try and look like you want to be here?”

“Sorry,” he sighed,”It’s just…yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know this probably isn’t your thing. But thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

“Not doing it for you,” he said quickly,”Just don’t want him to get what he wants.”

“Well, regardless, thank you for coming tonight,” you gave him a grateful smile and leaned in to wrap your arm around his shoulder for a swift hug. Michael froze when you pressed your body against his.

”I should get you a drink, help you relax a little bit,” you said after you leaned back.

“I don’t drink,” he stopped you.

“Oh, okay well, then this is going to be harder than I thought.”

“I’m just…not used to this,” he tried to explain.

“Define this.”

“All of it,” he gestured.

“Okay,” you sighed.

He gave you a sad smile and you actually felt had for him. You realized it must have cost him a lot to step out of his comfort zone tonight, yet he was here, just like he had promised you, to help you deal with Ben. Whatever his motivations were, he was proving that you could count on him.

“Okay,” you gave him another smile,”Why don’t we find a quiet spot to sit somewhere? Get away from the crowd for a bit?”

Michael nodded in relief and followed you to the bar until you found a spot away from all the noise but still close enough for Ben to see you both.

You ordered drinks and tried your best to bring Michael out of his shell, which proved harder than you thought.

“So what do you do for fun then?” you asked.

“Fun?” he shook his head with a little smile,”Fun is nothing but a distraction, I mean look at them…I can practically hear their brain cells deteriorating, one drink at a time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh,”Okay, but you don’t need to be drunk to have fun.”

“I’m here to graduate and secure the best future I can for myself, that’s the only thing that matters,” he continued to ignore your question.

“Right,” you sighed.

“We don’t all have mummy and daddy’s money to fall back on,” he explained, letting his eyes meet yours,”As you know, I think.”

You nodded,”Yeah, unfortunately I do. It’s just me and my mum, we’re not bad off but…ever since dad died it hasn’t been that easy, money wise.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been a hard loss to deal with,” he spoke softly, his sudden empathy taking you by surprise.

You shrugged,”Thanks. It happened years ago, it’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”

Just as you were starting to give up your attempts at keeping the conversation light Michael turned the question back around. “So, what do you do for fun then, Y/N?” he asked. 

He seemed relieved when you responded with a smile.“Me? I don’t know, I hang out with friends, we go see movies or get something to eat mostly. Sometimes we go out and I get a little drunk. But not too often, wouldn’t want to kill those precious brain cells.”

Michael laughed at that and then shook his head,”Very funny.”

“I know,” you teased, making him smile some more and you felt proud at finally making him feel a little more relaxed.

“What else?” he asked, now actively doing his best to keep the conversation going.

“Sometimes I take a guy back up to my room,” you blurted out, causing Michael to blush.

“Of course you do,” he nodded.

You took another sip from your drink while you kept your eyes on him,”You ever taken a girl up to your room, Gavey?”

He shook his head with a grin,“Is that your clever way of asking me if I am a virgin?”

“Are you?”

He blushed again and avoided looking at you.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” you quickly added, realizing you were probably overstepping but he just nodded his head.

”It’s okay,” he shrugged,”I mean…it’s not like it’s a secret. I’m a virgin, there. Happy now?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, as long as you’re happy with that choice. I mean, several of my girl friends are virgins, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and it’s not as uncommon as you’d think.”

“Really?” he asked, seemingly comforted by your words.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway,” you continued,”Having sex with someone isn’t going to fundamentally change you, it’s just sex.”

“Trust me, for someone who hasn’t had it…it’s not just sex.”

You nodded with a soft smile,”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And…don’t you think that it should fundamentally change you?” he then added,”Being with the right person, I mean…otherwise what’s the point?”

“The point is to cum, Michael,” you answered bluntly and he laughed at your words, almost choking on his drink.

”Sex is fun, anything else is just what books and movies would like you to believe,” you added,”It’s not like that in real life.”

“You don’t believe in true love then?”

“True love?” you shook your head and laughed,”Oh please, you do? You actually want to wait for the right person to come along before you have sex with someone? What if she, or he, never comes along?”

Michael just shook his head,”First of all, it’s she. And second of all…I guess I’m better off alone than with the wrong person, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes,”You’re so naive.”

“And you’re so bitter,” he answered quickly.

“Yeah, well, having Ben as an ex will do that to you.”

“Maybe you should think twice before fucking someone then,” he blurted out.

You looked at him,”Okay, that’s kind of rude.”

“What? Am I wrong?” he continued,”How well did you even know him before you slept with him? And how many other guys like him were there?”

“That’s…none of your fucking business.”

“What? I showed you mine but you’re not going to show me yours? That means the answer is plenty, I guess,” he answered his own question and you wanted to punch him. Who did this guy think he is?

”You shouldn’t be so willing to spend time with assholes,” Michael then added.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right, Gavey,” you gave him an angry look and moved away from him and out of your seat.

“Shit,” Michael sighed,”Wait…fuck, I’m sorry.”

He rushed after you and reached for your hand, pulling you back to him,”Wait, please, don’t go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just…I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“You can’t keep using that as an excuse to be a dick.”

“I know,” he sighed,”I know. I'm sorry.”

He was still holding your hand in his and much to your surprise it didn’t feel unpleasant, quite the contrary. You squeezed his hand and he let go instantly, as if he just realized he was still touching you.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s…fine.” You weren’t sure if he was still apologizing for his words or because he grabbed you but you realized it didn’t matter. Your urge to flee was gone now.

“Sit back down with me?” he asked,”Please?”

You nodded and followed him and you both sat down again, in silence.

“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” Michael blurted out after a while.

“You haven’t?” you asked, genuinely surprised,”Why not?”

He blushed but smiled, clearly embarrassed by his own confession,”Girls just don’t look at me and see something they want, I guess.”

“Maybe you should try being a little nicer then,” you pointed out.

He shook his head,”I used to be…nicer, it didn’t matter. They take one look at me and bail so…now I don’t even bother.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” you tried to reassure him but he gave you a knowing look.

“Come on now, I already called you a bad liar once, don’t make me say it again.”

You shook your head but smiled.”Okay, fine, so the clothes could use an upgrade and…maybe you’re not conventionally handsome,” you tried to explain and Michael just started laughing.

“That’s the most polite way I’ve ever been called ugly.”

“You’re not ugly!” you objected,”That’s my whole point, it’s like…oh, it’s like Adam Driver, you know that Star Wars guy?”

“You're really asking a nerd if he knows Star Wars?” he teased you.

“Okay, so Adam Driver isn’t conventionally attractive either but he’s got tons of fangirls everywhere who adore him.”

“Yeah, well, my fangirls seem to be absent, for now.”

You smiled and let your eyes meet his.”You have really pretty eyes,” you then confessed,”And you’re really tall and lean. Girls like that. And your hands are…really nice and…your lips look very soft.”

Michael was blushing hard now and he looked away from you but his lips curled up into a warm smile.”Thanks,” he whispered.

“My point is you’re not ugly, Michael,” you added,”And I’m sorry if people made you feel that way.”

He sighed with a smile,”Thank you. It’s just…I thought it would have happened by now, you know, that first kiss. It’s stupid and I don’t even care but…I just wish…”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you blurted out.

He shook his head with a shy smile,”No, I don’t want your pity kiss, it’s fine.”

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

“Oh, really? What would it be like then?”

“Well…we’re trying to convince Ben we’re fucking, right? If he sees us kiss that might make it more believable. So it’s not a pity kiss, you’d be helping me out with the plan. It’s a win-win.”

He stayed quiet.

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you added,”If you want to wait for the right person, I get it, no pressure…”

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted you, quietly, as if he was surprised by his own words,”I mean I…want to…I want to kiss you.”

“You sure?” you checked.

He nodded eagerly, putting a smile on your face.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed,”I just…I don’t know…how to do it right.”

You turned to face him and allowed yourself to really look at him. His beautiful sincere eyes and that deep blush on his cheeks, the way his mouth twitched nervously as he tried to avoid your eyes but also couldn’t stop himself from wanting to look at you. You had never in your life met anyone like Michael, he was insufferable at times but he was also the purest soul you’d ever met. 

And you wanted to kiss him with every fibre of your being.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him,”We’ll start slow. Look at me.”

His eyes met yours and you could tell he was struggling to keep direct eye contact, he was so flushed already and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Keep looking at me,” you asked firm but gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, breaking eye contact.

“That’s alright,” you gave him an encouraging smile,”Maybe we should…take these off.”

Your hands reached for his glasses and you carefully took them off and placed them on the table next to you.

“Is that better?” you asked.

“You’re all blurry now.”

You smiled,“Well, I’ll just have to get a little closer then.” 

You inched closer to him on the couch and Michael turned so you were both facing each other. You were so close to him now you could feel his warm breath on your lips.

“This better?” you asked softly,”Can you see me now?”

Michael nodded nervously, his blue eyes locked with yours.”I see you,” he whispered.

“Good,” you smiled and then you both just stared at each other, letting him get used to being this close to you.

After a little while you carefully moved your hand up to gently trace your fingers over his cheek. His breath hitched at the contact.

“It’s alright,” you whispered and gently cupped his cheek in your hand,”Don’t be nervous, it’s alright.”

Michael’s eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. You ignored the way your heart melted at the gesture. Then you leaned in closer, his nose gently bumping against yours before you leaned in further and kissed him softly. It was just a peck of your lips against his but it was enough to set off a very unexpected spark in you.

You looked at each other again. Michael’s gaze was hungry but he didn’t move, patiently waiting for you to make the next move and guide him through it.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whispered.

“Hmm,” he nodded.

You kissed him again, just as soft as the first one but this time you opened your mouth slightly to move your lips against his and he reciprocated immediately. 

His lips were incredibly soft, as you has expected, and he tasted of mint and the sweet fruity soda he’d been drinking and he kissed you as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted. When you carefully teased his bottom lip with your tongue he was quick to do the same, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

He didn’t need much more guidance after that. His technique might be clumsy and he was a little over eager but he was also a goddamn natural. You felt dizzy from how good it felt to have his lips on yours and after a few minutes you were panting into his mouth and had to stop yourself from crawling into his lap. 

What was happening?

You were clinging to his neck with both hands, needing to touch him but he still hadn’t touched you back. His hands were nervously digging into the fabric of the couch as he whimpered into the kiss.

“Put your hands on me,” you breathed,”Please, Michael.”

He whimpered again at the sound of his name from your lips and then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he teased your tongue with his and kissed you even deeper.

You were drowning in him. All the other guys you had kissed before were nothing but a distant memory and you’d give them all up in a heartbeat if you could just remember this one kiss. 

Who knew nerds could kiss like that?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but after a while you leaned back to get some air, your lips red and swollen and still aching for more of him.

Michael’s entire face was flushed a deep red and he was breathing so hard it was making you lose focus.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Was that…was that okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and you pressed your forehead against his and nodded while biting your lip.

When Michael noticed he leaned in and bit your lip as well, then pulled you in for another long, slow kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered afterwards,”God…what have you done to me?…I don’t want to stop…I just…please can we keep kissing?”

You innocently kissed his cheek and then moved your lips down, kissing and licking the curve of his neck and his collar bone until Michael whimpered into your ear. His hands firmly clinging to your back.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Michael was cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m..I’m hard,” he confessed with another whimper,”Fuck, I’m so fucking hard.”

You just smiled at him,”Yeah, a few good kisses will do that to you.”

You continued kissing his neck, relishing in the soft little moans spilling from his lips and then you noticed how he was bucking his hips up, seeking for contact that wasn’t there, desperate for some friction or relief.

You moved one hand over his hip and then down to his inner thigh, the huge bulge in his pants was growing right before your eyes and it made you absolutely feral. You hadn’t planned for this at all, you’d just wanted to kiss him and maybe tease him a little bit. But having him squirming under your hands now and moaning so desperately into your ear you realized you wanted to give him so much more.

“You want me to take care of it?” you whispered into his ear, caressing his erection slowly. Michael just moaned and buried his face against your neck while he nodded his head.

“I’m going to assume you’ve never had a blow job before,” you whispered to him,”Would you like one?”

He looked up into your eyes, shock all over his face as he breathed,”I…no, I haven’t…obviously I…fuck…Are you for real?You would…you would do that? With me?”

“Do you want me to?” you asked softly.

“Yes,” he breathed,”God, fuck yes…yes. Please. Please.”

You pulled out of his arms, making him whine in frustration at the loss of contact but it was forgotten quickly when you took his hand and dragged him with you towards the bathrooms. 

Ben smirked at you both as you passed by him but neither you or Michael noticed.

You pushed Michael inside one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

He was quick to grab you by your hips and push you up against the door while he kissed you again. You reciprocated eagerly, letting your hands caress all over his messy hair, down to his chest and then his stomach.

When you started fumbling with his belt Michael started cursing again, trying his hardest to keep it together. His hands moved over your ass and tried to push up your dress but you stopped him.

“What?” he asked, disappointment all over his pretty face.

“This is about you tonight, not me.”

“No, I wanna touch you, please, let me touch you,” he whined.

“Not tonight,” you pulled his pants down, freeing his erection and it made the both of you gasp out loud, for very different reasons. He was big, exceptionally big, and really beautiful, and so fucking hard. You knew he must have been desperate for that sweet release.

You bit your lip and leaned in to whisper into his ear,”I want to put my mouth on you, Michael, is that okay?”

He nodded quickly, his breathing picking up again. ”Yes, yes,” he whimpered,”Oh god, please…please. It’s so painfully hard, just…just touch it please.”

No guy had ever begged so beautifully before and it had you down on your knees so easily, your eyes looking up at him while you carefully placed your hand over his length and started jerking him, slowly. He sighed in relief at your touch, eyes closing in a blissful moan.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him.”You’d better not cum on me within two seconds, Gavey,” you warned him with a teasing grin.

Michael laughed in between heavy breaths,”Can’t make any promises.”

And then your mouth was on him and all he was left with were heavy moans and whimpers as he fought very hard not to burst on the spot.

His hands were nervously balled into fists until you grabbed them and guided them into your hair, giving him something to hold onto. He caressed your scalp so gently it was pulling at your heart strings and distracted you from what you were doing for a moment. 

You took him deeper into your mouth, all the while jerking the rest of him in your hand. Michael’s fingers tightened into your hair while his hips bucked forward desperately. The moans spilling from his lips were enough to make your cunt throb for him but you had meant what you said. Tonight wasn’t about you. You just wanted to make him feel good and you knew he wasn’t going to last long anyway.

When you started moaning around his cock he was done for and he finally gave in, holding the back of your head while he fucked up into your mouth with hard short thrusts, making tears spill from your eyes and the next thing you knew he was spilling into your mouth with a muffled cry. 

He wanted to pull out but you didn’t let him, keen to swallow every last hot drop and make him cry even more.

“Oh god, oh holy shit, that was…fuck, that was so good,” he was babbling again and trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high and you smirked while you wiped your mouth.

He was quick to pull you back up into his arms and into a deep, hungry kiss.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking into your mouth,”I can…I can taste myself on your tongue…that’s so fucking hot.”

When he cupped your face he could feel the tears on your cheek and he pulled back, looking at you while he gently wiped them away.

“Made you cry,” he whispered and then he leaned in to place a few soft kisses on your cheeks, taking his time to gently kiss your tears away,”Sorry…I’m sorry.”

His soft and sweet caresses almost made you want to cry for real.

You grabbed his wrists and leaned back,”It’s okay, they’re not real tears, having a dick shoved down your throat will do that to you.”

“Oh. I didn’t…hurt you, did I?”

You smiled softly and shook your head,”No, you didn’t hurt me, Michael, you’re good.”

You wanted to step back but he was quick to place his hands on your hips and keep you in place. His eyes were staring at you, satisfied and tired but also still hungry and you smiled softly and shook your head.

“No, not tonight,” you whispered.

“Come on, why not? Aren’t you horny as fuck right now? Don’t you want me to…touch you?” he leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on your lips,”Don’t you want me to fuck you?”

You almost gave in right then but you pulled away and shook your head.”Shouldn’t your actual first time be in a soft, comfortable bed with candles and sweet music?” And someone you actually love?

He smirked,”You just sucked me off in a dirty bathroom stall and it was the best experience of my life, you think I care about music and candles?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.”I think you’ve had enough firsts for one night.”

You pushed him back and he didn’t object this time even though his face was clouded in obvious disappointment.

“Next time then?” he asked hopeful and relief flooded his features when you smiled and nodded.

How could you refuse him anything when he looked at you like that? 

You leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on his lips, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach,“Yeah, maybe next time."

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 20

An: Not sure how to start this haha. Hi. It's been over a year but here we are. If you're an old reader, thank you for your patience and for deciding to come back.

Word count: 2410

As the shadow’s grip tightens around my wrist, it feels like a match is struck within me and lit alight with fear. It burns hot within my chest, searing the flesh attached to my bones, causing my entire body to tense. Yet the fear and the pain don’t cause me to shut down. Something has fundamentally changed in me throughout these last strange and inconceivable weeks.

When he leans over me, it’s like the match has lit up his mask, allowing me to see every movement and intention in complete darkness. My fear no longer shuts me down. I feel more awake than ever. More infuriated than ever.

But I’ll be damned if he finds out.  

“Miss me?” his voice is just as vile as it was last time.

I bite my tongue. Speaking now would only give him more reason to do harm.

“Probably not as much as you miss Suds though,” His strong grip yanks me upward into a sitting position. The tightness of his fingers twisting around my wrist painfully pinches my skin. I don’t dare utter a single sound. “Hey? Cause you haven’t been with him all week. Which begs the question: What the hell have you gotten up to, Birdie?”

“Nothing,” I mutter through bared teeth. “When I’m not in Captain Price’s office, the Lieutenant locks me in here.

“So Ghost babysits when Suds is gone. Eh? What’s he like?”

Bennet’s question throws me off guard. What’s he like? Of all the things to talk about, this is what he wants to focus on? Not the trade-off or Price’s supposed secret plans or the Ultranationalists or their impending betrayal. Just Ghost.

There has to be more to his words.

“Quiet,” you can smell the uneasiness on my breath. It carries my words and hangs pungent in the damp air.

“Wanna know something about Ghost?” he asks. My stomach turns. Of course, I do. But he’s counting on that. He wants to know just how interested I am in the Lieutenant. I also know that whatever he’s about to tell me probably isn’t true. He wants to drive a bigger wedge between myself and 141 so my loyalty remains with my father. Except I’ll never be loyal to my father.

I shrug my shoulders in response. I don’t know if he sees or if he cares, but I do know he wants to scare me.

“He tried to kidnap your mother before settling for you,” Bennet’s words taste like the bile rising up the back of my throat. Sour and acidic. Like expired milk. “Do you really think they would stop with you? They’ll never stop. Not until your family – our family is torn to shreds.”

I should have known. I want to feel shocked, but there’s a mental block in my brain stopping me. I. Should. Have. Known.

“Our family?” my voice wavers.

“Yes,” he hisses. “Our family. What? Do you think Ultranationalism is just a movement? It is so much more than that. We are so much more.”

“How come they didn’t get her?” I dare to ask him the question buzzing around in my mind. The hidden bug slips my mind. Our ears are far from the only ones present. Ghost at the very least will be listening. Maybe Soap. Maybe Price. Maybe some higher-up that I’ve never heard of. Nothing in this room is a secret.

Who’s to say it’s true anyway?

Yet, who’s to say it’s not? Sure, the Ultranationalists are liars. So is 141. So is Ghost. Of all the people here, he has kept the most from me.

Truth out here has a different meaning. Every single one of their moral compasses has been skewed by war’s magnetism. Even the men who are objectively fighting for peace and democracy are not on the moral high ground they believe themselves to be. None of their hands are clean. Especially Ghost.

“Our team intercepted last minute. Captured their crew. By the time we discovered their plan to take you too, we were already too late. Little Bird, this was never about you. Your father wants you to know that,” his grip on my wrist releases as he leans back, off the bed.

“Does he forgive me?” my throat tightens as the question barely escapes as a whisper.

“He’s working on it, the shadow’s words are swallowed by the darkness. “But he needs your help. We need to know what angle Price will take,”

“I’m not allowed in the room when they discuss that stuff. They don’t trust me.”

“You must’ve picked up on something,” he urges.

I pause for a moment and think. Of all the different conversations I’ve witnessed, surely something must stand out. Something that is safe to share and won’t hurt 141.

“I mean I don’t think they actually intend on going through with the exchange,” I start. However, this isn’t new to him. Neither side plans on cooperating with the other. It’s a recipe for disaster. “They don’t want my father dead. They need him alive for intel on my uncles. But I also think they might be moving on. Price and Ghost discussed intercepting other families. I think the same way they did with me,” it’s better if he thinks I’m clueless. So much has changed since that conversation. They aren’t moving on any time soon. Not when they’re so close.

“Do you believe them?” his question isn’t inherently strange. It’s the fact that he’s asking my opinion that catches me off guard. Does he genuinely want my input? Does this mean I’ve gained his trust? Not likely.

“I don’t know,” my chest is tight. “Well,” I change my answer. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You shouldn’t,” he starts to slowly pace the room. His mind is racing. There’s so much that needs to be done in so little time. If only I had just an inch of the rope, they’re tying my noose with. Then at least I’d know what tree they planning on hanging me from. “You’re expendable to them,” Bennet turns toward the bed again.  

“And not to you?”

“To me?” his tone quickly turns to something akin to amusement. “No, you’re quite expendable to me. But your father? He sees you as part of our cause.”

“He never brought it up before,” the curious part of me always wins. I have to know. Something. Anything. Even if it's completely fabricated.

“After everything, do you think he’d still lie to you?” the shadow stills and his eyes turn to slits.

“I- no,” we both know it’s a trick question.

“He said your wings will take you far and high, little bird,” for a moment, I almost hear the words in his voice. They sound like something he’d say when I was young. Like stories from lost times.

“But if it was up to you, I’d be dead already,” I shift back to our previous topic.

“Of course,” he says like it is obvious. “But if you stick with 141, they’ll do it for me. You’re useless to them after the exchange. Nothing more than collateral. Even you, are smart enough to know that,” am I though? Hasn’t some hopeful part of me genuinely believed I might actually survive this mess?

“It’s crossed my mind,” my sullen voice lags with a false sense of exhaustion. Yet, I feel more alert than ever.

“Well let it cross again. Into our territory. With your family,” a deep, raspy sigh escapes his chest as he takes a step back from the bed. In the silence of the night, I can hear his scarred lungs rattle like an old pickup on its last leg. But he’s got ‘miles to go and promises to keep’. This shadow isn’t the kind of man to go back on his word. There’s a reason he’s made it to where he is today. “Think about it,” he says as his hand silently wraps around the metal handle.

The door opens and shuts without a sound. When he slips into the darkness, I know this will be the last of our witching-hour meetings. His words haunt me like the last wishes of a lost soul. There’s more truth to them than I’m brave enough to admit.

I almost mistake the soft raps against the door as one of those spirits. Haunted? Maybe. Spirits? Only of the men who’ve died at his hands. Only in the sense that his name brushes across soldiers’ lips like a curse: If you see him, you’re dead.

The knock was just a courtesy. A warning. Ghost enters the room with a large hunting knife in hand. The matt carbon blade is almost impossible to spot in the night. It’s the way his sleeved arm is held at his chest – ready to strike – that gives him away.

Just as one shadow leaves, another appears. Dressed in all black and moving as silent as an unspoken thought. The intensity of his eyes burns as they bore into holes through the darkness.

He knows Bennet is gone. That doesn’t stop him from clearing the room anyway. He reaches under the desk, pulls out the bug, and twists it apart, rendering it dysfunctional. The tiny pieces are slipped into his pocket.

No one can know he’s here.

The words he’s about to speak should never meet the air.

I haven’t had any time to process what just happened and now he’s appeared within moments to remedy an undiagnosed illness.

It feels pre-emptive. Like he knew this was going to come up. Like he’s planned for it.

“Are you okay?” His thick English accent slowly fills the space.

I’m not interested in small talk. I need to know the legitimacy behind the shadow’s words.

“How much did you hear?” I ask. The adrenaline is running low in my veins. I feel the shakes approaching behind me like an unwanted guest at a house party. Creeping and on the verge of cutting into our conversation.

“All of it,” Ghost crosses the room to my bed. He hovers at the edge with his fists clenched at his sides. His trigger finger twitches, expecting confrontation. I stand from my seated position, but he still towers over me.

“Is it true? Did you try to take my mom?” this conversation feels borderline repetitive of everything that went down in the cabin. Every time I think all the details are out in the open and he’s finally being honest with me, I’m proven wrong.

And every time, the Ultranationalists pick at my healing scabs, causing streaks of blood to smear across my fragile skin. It’s an ugly look. One that lacks patience and self-control.

“Affirmative,” the resignation in his voice is concrete. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide it. What else is he leaving out?

“You’re a fucking asshole,” the bitter words fire in his direction. I feel stupid. I feel played. As though they’re all still treating me like a child.

“Y/N,” he quietly warns. His voice refuses to move above a whisper. Who knows what ears are listening outside that door.

“No. Fuck you,” I point at him with a quivering hand. “You’ve had days – no – weeks to tell me this. Why didn’t you say anything, Simon?”

“It was classified,” he automatically responds.

“You’re so full of it,” I cross my arms and fist my hands. I’d be smart to shut my mouth for the rest of my time here. I’d be smart to do a lot of things differently than I have. Yet that’s not an option. “What else are you keeping from me?”

A deep sigh pushes through the black ski mask. One that’s no longer worried, but hinting at frustration. The pause before he speaks is long and filled with words that’ll never see the light of day. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“You can,” I urge.

“I can’t. That’s the nature of my job – of my life, y/n,” I can feel the heat of his chest as he steps closer. “There will always be secrets. The things I know are worth killing over.”

“But if it’s about me, I deserve to know,” I push harder. Surely, he has to understand where I’m coming from.

“Just drop it,” the coldness to his voice is usually reserved for lower-ranking soldiers. I feel it nip at my skin and travel through my bones in an unnerving kind of way. Yet I can’t drop it. Not when it’s my life at stake.

“You can’t come here and expect me to ‘just drop it’ Simon. You came here. I didn’t ask for help,” the annoyance is audible in my voice. “I deserve to know. What is it? Do they really plan on killing me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. Ok. So that much is the truth. At least to him.

“What, then?” my brows furrow as my chest impatiently heaves. Why did he bother showing up if all he’s going to do is shut me out?

Simon reaches for a strand of hair, but I duck away from his grasp. The gloved hand falters, before falling back at his side. I know I’ve struck a nerve when his shoulders stiffen and the heel of his boot shifts half an inch back.

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” the rejection turns his voice stoic. “Goodnight y/n.”

As Ghost turns and heads for the door, he tightly grasps the knife at his side. I consider biting my tongue, but that’s never something I’ve excelled at. “Leaving me in the dark is far from keeping me safe.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Simon looks back as he grasps the handle. There’s a glint so faint it’s almost hard to spot behind his eyes. For a moment he almost doesn’t look real. “You’re safer hidden in the shadows. There’s no going back once you’re exposed to the light.”

He doesn’t wait for my response. I don’t have one to give.

As Ghost leaves the room, I’m left with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

It fades for a while as the hours drag and I drift into a strange type of sleep. Yet, the feeling returns when my door opens in the morning. When I see his face I know today is the day. They can’t afford to wait any longer. The Ultranationalists are ready. 141 is ready.

It isn’t Soap or Ghost or some other foot soldier who’s come to retrieve me: it’s Captain Price.

[qprpbj]

saw brent's story of the pastor costume

mind immediately went to religious trauma darry

then mind immediately went to you

please give us more thoughts

“then mind immediately went to you” well yes 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

ok i need you to hear me out and walk with me for this one. ponyboy about as atheist as they come bc he’s so naturally curious and i can’t see him taking religion at face value — is always questioning and looking for deeper meanings etc. soda who loves having god to believe in, probably prays pretty often esp post parents-death, says grace at mealtime if he can remember — he genuinely gives me very casually religious vibes idk why but i stand by it.

darry though. sigh. i think he WANTS to have religion in his life but if we’re going the gay route, obviously like…he grew up in a church in the midwest 50s where it’d be beat into his head that he is fundamentally made wrong and. you know. the internalized homophobia and religious guilt mix is nottttt to be played with. i think he doesn’t ever have gfs and kinda just fucks around and jumps headfirst into his studies (bc he needs grades more than girls anyway) and probably stops going to church around like. early teenage years, then by mid teenage years he meets paul and they begin their. whatever they do. i fr stand by that they alwaysss without fail meet on sunday mornings bc paul too has (more recently) dropped out of church and would rather spend sunday mornings w darry than be there. if they’re gonna be sinners n supposedly go to hell either way they may as well act on it and feel good in the moment u know

i also think entirely besides the whole Gay Thing™️ that he has a lottt of frustrations with god and with the idea of believing in higher power after his parents die. i think before it’s not so bad, he never had a family to worry about and his biggest beef w the church was them calling him a sinner for being gay but that’s like. he can sorta get over it if he stays closeted forever. but now it’s like. he’s getting told everything happens for a reason and this is all in gods plan by everyone he meets and he can’t even begging to understand why. why god has it out for him, why his family, what he did so wrong. i think he entirely rejects the concept of religion after this whereas soda probably leans more into it and seeks god for guidance which could be an interesting sorta rift between them and how they both personally cope. i do believe that when pony does missing for the week in windrixville darry is so so exhausted and at his wits end (considering “throwing in the towel”, whatever you personally think that means for him!) that he prays to his parents instead of god and asks for their help in bringing his baby brother home <3 (and it works!!!!!!!!)

this, of course, is all entirely separate from the fact that darry is a very by the book guy. he doesn’t play about fact and has little room for opinion in his head and beliefs. i think that def factors into how much he genuinely believes in god vs how much he thought he should growing up. if that makes any sense

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I've been thinkin' on it, and I think the biggest reason people are still insisting that Ed is just awful and abusive and whatever (aside from the racism of it all) is because the writers of OFMD fundamentally assume that viewers will like him and be on his side.

And, like, that is one hell of a reasonable assumption. Before s2 we spent a lot of time getting to know Ed; we see he's very sweet and smart and can be silly, and his self-esteem isn't great and he already has a lot of self-destructive tendencies and struggles with believing he can have nice things. These are all things we see in s2 and none of them should come as a surprise. We've gotten to know Ed and in s2 the writers assume we will be able to grant him even the barest ounce of sympathy.

"But he's being super violent and hurting the crew!" Ed's behavior at the beginning of s2 is best described as "a bit over the top" in the context of the show, and before he pulls out all the stops trying to get the crew to mutiny on him in his suicide attempt, he never actually hurts anyone except for Izzy (Izzy's the guy who threatened him and caused all this, or he'd still be crying in his blanket fort at the start of the season. OFMD has ALWAYS had a "talk shit get hit" philosophy and Izzy should not be the sole exception).

"But he never had to face any consequences for his actions!" I think almost getting beaten to death and then having to spend an entire episode convincing yourself you deserve to live is a pretty big consequence, actually.

"But he never apologized!" The group apology in s2e5 was obviously a joke (Stede clearly wrote it anyway and made Ed memorize it, look how Stede mouths along and Ed fumbles his lines), and it's pretty clear that Ed's conversation with Fang is meant to represent what he's doing with everyone. He's trying. He thinks up a way to try to give Lucius closure, even though it doesn't work, and when Fang mentions something Ed did that hurt him, Ed immediately and genuinely apologizes. It is not a wild jump to assume Ed's doing that with other characters and the show just assumes we're smart enough to figure that out from context considering how the crew are good with Ed again in s2e6.

"What if he hurts Stede/is abusive to Stede?" Multiple characters ask Stede something to this effect, Stede says "that's really stupid, of course he won't," and Stede is right. Question easily answered.

We're shown that Ed's response to being hurt and upset is not immediately violence. His first response is to go and hide and make himself feel safe - tub, blanket fort, hiding under the blanket and Anne and Mary's. Violence is Ed's response to feeling threatened. There's a difference. We're shown this over and over and over again, and frankly the only reason I think some people miss it is because they don't care to think about what's making Ed feel threatened in the first place.

It's just so clear that some people watching this show care so little about Ed and only care about what he can offer in a scene with other characters. Ed did not enjoy anything that happened at the beginning of the season - the last time we see him in s1 he's sobbing his poor eyes out and that's implied to have been consistent through s2e2. He's suicidal and having a miserable time and yes, he's hurting people who care about him, but it's not just for funsies, it's because he's trying to get himself killed. It's wild to me that some people can turn on the Ed and Stede show, see Ed pull himself out of such a terrible place by the end of the season and commit to a life with his boyfriend, and think that the show is setting up Ed to be abusive or imply he hasn't gone through any character growth and just coasted through the season.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Ok, I'm gonna preface by saying I am being brave and REALLY stepping out of my comfort zone asking this. Also, this is a bit hard to phrase, so bear with me. Every time I do anything remotely sexual I feel Dread. Like, if I masturbate I will feel a sinking feeling in my stomach as if something bad is going to happen. This happens as well if I touch my nipples or get aroused. I don't get aroused often, (asexual) but I hate when I do because of this.

I don't know what's causing this, and I don't know if it's normal or if you know of this happening to anyone else. I don't expect you to know exactly why I'm dealing with this, obviously, but I'm really just confused. I don't miss masturbating or anything, Its not as if I've lost my libido and want it back. I just want to get read of the Dread! Have you heard of this happening to anyone else? Is there something wrong? If there is, I'm a minor and I really can't bring this up with a therapist (I have bigger fish to fry.) Do you have any advice, or is it a "don't do that if it hurts" situation? I'm perfectly fine just waiting to see if it goes away and I'm not super worried about it, but I am curious. Thank you!

(P.S: I can confidently say that me experiencing this feeling of dread is not linked to any sexual trauma. I really haven't experienced anything close to that.)

hi anon,

so I would like to. very gently. push back on the idea that this isn't something that should be brought up with a therapist, because this is absolutely a mental issue that is absolutely 100% impacting your quality of life and does not seem likely to go away on its own.

I fundamentally do not believe in attempting to diagnose anyone with anything on my blog, because I'm not qualified to do that and it would be irresponsible to pretend otherwise, but what you're describing sounds a lot like my own experiences with extremely bad anxiety and the experiences some close friends have had with OCD. that's not to say that you necessarily have either of those things! but it is a good indicator that what you're experiencing here is something substantial enough to be worth addressing with a professional who can help you worth through it.

so to answer your questions: yes I've heard of something like this and yes there's something wrong; the answer to both is "mental illness, babe." please take that seriously, babe; you deserve to live a life in which you don't experience Dread just from touching your own body.

[gingerjolover]

Electrolytes - Julien Baker x fem!reader

Synopsis: after a separate night out, julien just wants to spend time with her gf <3

G's notes: since i've been such a tease, i am finally delivering...sorry if it sucks lol

also shoutout to @boywithpinkcarnation and @whore4munagenius <3

WC: somewhere around 2k

Warnings: RPF, reader is afab, actual smut i swear, swearing ig, no fundamental physical descriptors except hair that can be tucked behind the ear?

RPF smut under the cut, if you don't like it please dni!

minors, stay away! 🙅‍♀️

It feels like since buying a house and moving in with your girlfriend, you see her less. Yes, she priortizes you and makes time, but an album release, subsequent EP, three legs of a tour, and numerous press events later, a night when you’re both in the same city doing your own thing still stings. Julien has had some studio dinner planned for months now, meeting with the higher ups of her label in downtown Nashville. Normally she’d bring you, but your best friend’s birthday dinner happened to fall on the same night. 

When you get home, Julien’s car is already in the driveway. Walking in, eyes immediately drawn to the living room couch where Julien’s sitting, manspreading like her life depends on it, wrinkling the slacks you spent 20 minutes steaming. Her laptop is on her left thigh, typing away. Her head shoots up when she hears you close the door, eyes shining in recognition. “Hi baby,” you say softly, tucking your hair behind you ear, toeing off your shoes as your dogs come to greet you. She whistles for the dogs, opening the back door to let them out before bed. 

She puts her laptop down and walks over to you, kissing you deeply as she pushes her hands into your hair, her lips tasting of wine and tobacco, her breath hot on your face "I missed you, baby.”

“Mhm,” you moan into the kiss, her hands are cold in your hair, lips warm against your own. “Missed you,” you mumble against her lips, your hands wrapping around her torso bringing her closer to you. 

Her arms wrap around you as she kisses you deeper, her tongue exploring your mouth and her teeth pressing gently against your lower lip. She groans a little as she runs her hands up your back and leans into you further, breaking the kiss to breathe before burying herself back into your mouth once more.

Julien releases your lips, letting you take a breath, kissing up and down your neck, her hands settled at your hips. “You look so good,” she moans, hand running down your torso, sliding down your thighs before settling onto your ass. You wrap your arms around her neck, your chests flush. “How was the dinner?” you ask her, knowing she wasn’t super stoked to leave earlier. 

She groans as she continues kissing along your neck, her lips making their way down to the top of your shirt, burying her face into your chest, your hand in her hair.  "It was... alright. Bunch of guys trying to seem important." she mumbles, hands sliding up underneath your shirt. "Y'know, trying to get me to do things I don't necessarily want to do." she finishes lifting your shirt over your head, groaning when she sees the bralette adorning your body. 

You giggle, finding it endearing that she can complain while stripping you down.You connect your lips again, moaning against her mouth as your hands tug at her dress shirt. “But your team helped right? They stood up for you?” you mumble against her lips, gasping when her hands move to the button of your jeans.

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth, biting gently and making you shiver, She makes a low growl noise in her throat, looking you head to toe, admiring your jeans on your body before she takes them off.  "Yeah, they did. But it's the same bullshit, it's like..." she gestures with her hand, making a shrugging motion "I don't know. I don't really want to be there right now. I wanna be with you"

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled against her mouth, your hands in her hair. “I’ve just been seeing the dinner on the calendar for like a month and I didn’t want to jump your bones without at least asking about it,” you giggle, moaning as her lips suck on your neck. She kisses your nose innocently, starting to kiss down your chest and stomach, appreciating every inch of skin, She unbuttons your jeans, kneeling down and sliding them off. She kisses the top of your underwear, looking up at you with a teasing look, her big brown eyes darkening. 

She stands up again, kissing you firmly, her thigh going between your legs, her hands on your lower back.

She starts to pull away slightly "Stop being so cute. You're driving me nuts" she whispers seductively, her voice low and sultry, her movements slow, appreciating the time with you. Her hands grab your hips, pressing her bent knee further up between your legs, your hips moving gently “Oh god,” you whimper softly. 

“Not God, just me,” she teases, making herself laugh. “How was dinner?” she whispers against your neck and behind your ear, her lips and her breath brushing against your skin. 

“It was– um, it was– it was good,” you stammer out, Julien’s hands moving your hips back and forth the best she can in this position. 

“You’re gonna ruin my pants sweet thing,” Julien says, almost giddy, your wetness leaking onto her slacks.

“Jay, please,” you moan, hips stuttering, your head plopping onto her shoulder.

Her teeth make one last soft bite of your earlobe as she moves slightly away, licking her lips as she looks at you "Please what, baby?" a teasing whisper leaves her mouth with a sly smile on her face as she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to the side.

You look at her, eyes full of submission and desperation. Julien presses her thumb to your lip, watching you take the tip in your mouth, she groans, kissing your nose softly.

She nods and chuckles a little, her eyes full of lust as she looks down at you, her voice low and powerful "I want you upstairs. On the bed. Naked." she pushes you towards the stairs, her hand tapping your ass. 

She gives you a few minutes, wanting to make you sweat with anticipation. She takes her time letting the dogs in, making them sit for treats before filling up their bowls with dinner. 

Julien walks up the stairs slowly, dress shirt unbuttoned, belt unbuckled. She walks into the room, closing the behind her and sees you lying on the bed, her face becomes almost animalistic at the sight. She chuckles softly and starts walking over slowly, her lips curled and her eyes, darkened with dominance, locked on you "Good girl.”

Your back arches, body preening at the praise. Julien grabs your ankles, pulling your body closer to the edge of the bed. 

She moves closer, her lips pressing against yours as her hands wrap around your legs, her fingers dig slightly into your soft flesh. "Such a good girl, laying on the bed for me. Being so still." she whispers as her lips slide out from yours, her tongue gliding down your neck as she moves to your collarbone

“Jules… please,” you whine softly, your girlfriend kissing down your torso. 

Her tongue glides lower until her mouth connects with your nipple, looking up at you with hooded eyes, her eyes lock with your own. "Please, what, sugar?" she whispers voice thick, letting your nipple go with a pop.

“I need you,” you whimper, legs widening for her. 

Her mouth moves to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment, her teeth scraping the skin as she pulls away. "Tell me, baby." she all but growls, kissing up your neck and biting your earlobe "Tell me where you need me."

You grab one of Julien’s hands, lowering it to your center, thighs clenching around her, you lean up and kiss her softly “Here, please,” you whine softly. 

Her eyes widen a little bit, your forwardness surprising her. She’s heavy breathing, letting out a soft huff before she presses her thumb against your clit, moving in figure-8 motions, "Princess, you’re so fucking wet."

You moan loudly, Julien’s teasing grin looking down on you, power eminating off of her as she stands fully clothed above you. Her nonchalance makes you preen, her eyes darting all over you body as she absentmindedly plays with your clit.

“Please,” you beg softly, Julien can’t help but fall to her knees at the foot of the bed, your skin prickling as she all but worships you. She hooks her arms around your legs, Julien pulling you closer to her, kissing up your legs. 

She lets out a low grumble, her hair falls over her eyes and she looks back up at you "Look at me, baby." she whispers "What do you want?" she's breathing heavily as her lips graze against your thighs.

Your hand goes to her hair, pushing it back so you can see her eyes. “Need your mouth,” you pant. 

"Need my mouth where, baby?" she asks teasingly, her tongue runs along your inner thigh. 

She does this everytime, asking you questions on purpose and then making it impossible to respond. She flattens her tongue, licking a single stripe up your pussy before attaching her mouth to your clit. 

“Ahh, babe, oh my god Julien,” you moan, your hand in Julien’s hair. 

Her arms cage in your legs, tongue pushing into you, nose rubbing against your clit. She’s lapping you up like she’s dying of thirst. Your hips buck against her arms, hand pressing your lower abdomen down, keeping you still. 

“J-Julien–oh fuck,” you squeal out, legs trying to clench around her. 

She pulls away slightly and looks up at you with a puffy lips, her chin wet, eyes bright and teasing. She rests her head on your thigh "What? Didn't hear you, baby." she bites your thigh gently, her teeth digging in "Say it again."

“Fuck, Don’t t-tease, Julien,” you pout back, closing your legs a little, trapping her head between them. 

She looks between your legs, biting her lip and looking at you "What was that, baby? All I heard was whining." she moves a bit between your legs, kissing everywhere but where you want her, "Is my baby gonna behave?"

“I was being good,” you say sassily, grunting when she takes your knees and spreads them, her arms holding your hips down harshly, face hovering over your center again. 

She looks up at you, her eyes are wide and full of lust. You see her grin as she begins to lick her lips "Is that right? You were being good?"

“Mhm,” you mumble, cut off by a gasp, Julien’s tongue moving quickly again. This time she lets go of your hips, you can feel her smile, her moans sending a vibration through you. “Grind on my tongue baby…that’s it, that’s my girl,” she mumbles against you, hands holding your chest. 

Your grip tightens in Julien’s hair, throwing your own head back and arching your back, moving your hips against her mouth desperately. “Please– I’m—” you stutter out.

“Cum for me, c’mon pretty girl,” her tone stern but sweet, two fingers are pushed into you, curling quickly.

Your back arches, hands gripping the sheets, Julien’s quick to remove her fingers, pulling your hips to her mouth, holding you tightly against her as you cum. She works you through your orgasm, mouth still sucking your clit before she’s licking up everything, not wanting to waste a drop. 

“Good?” she asks smugly, sucking her fingers clean and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She kisses your thighs, watching you pant and catch your breath, chest heaving. All you can do is stare at her, the crooked smile on her face, almost innocent, like she didn’t just make you ruin the sheets. Your hand moves to her hair, patting her head. 

“You did good, I’m proud of you,” she mumbles, moving to lay next to you. The scene quite funny, your fully dressed partner lying next to you. “Your outside clothes…” you grimace, tugging at her collar. She leans down, kissing you, licking her way into your mouth. You moan, able to taste yourself on her tongue. 

“I have to change the sheets anyway… and probably get rid of my pants,” she teases, finger tracing your face. 

“I can get the stain out,” you try to reassure, before she’s shaking her head, both of you looking at her thigh. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she chuckles, pulling you into her. 

“Now,” she says brushing your hair back, kissing you softly. “You need to hydrate, gotta get you some electrolytes.”

You look at her confused, head tilted to the side. 

“Did you think we were done here? Baby, I’m going to fuck you… so hard,” Julien says, pushing her lips onto your neck and tickling your sides. 

[papercranesandpride]

Can we talk about The Giver by Lois Lowry from the perspective of a loveless person?

I'm going to start with a passage that runs through my head all the time when I think about my lovelessness, because it resonates with me in pretty much the exact opposite way that it's supposed to.

"Do you love me?" There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Father gave a little chuckle. "Jonas. You, of all people. Precision of language, please!" "What do you mean?" Jonas asked. Amusement was not at all what he had anticipated. "Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that it's become almost obsolete," his mother explained carefully. Jonas stared at them. Meaningless? He had never before felt anything as meaningful as the memory. "And of course our community can't function smoothly if people don't use precise language. You could ask, 'Do you enjoy me?' The answer is 'Yes,'" his mother said. "Or," his father suggested, "'Do you take pride in my accomplishments?' And the answer is wholeheartedly 'Yes.'" "Do you understand why it's inappropriate to use a word like 'love'?" Mother asked. Jonas nodded. "Yes, thank you, I do," he replied slowly. It was his first lie to his parents

I agree with Jonas' parents here. You aren't supposed to agree with them, because they're expression the views of the average person in this dystopian society where love has been eliminated. You're supposed to think "wow, this is a really fucked up society if parents don't love their children." More importantly, you're supposed to think "wow, this is a really fucked up society if no one feels love at all." But I agree with them. "I enjoy you" is a vastly more correct and useful thing for me to say. I do wish people used more precise language instead of the term that's been diluted to meaninglessness. I would love a world where we say things like "I'm happier when I talk to you" or "it's cool to be able to say I know someone so talented" instead of "I love you." That's exactly what I'd like.

I just... As someone who grew up to be loveless, it scares me how much I loved this book as a kid. I grew up to be the kind of person this book views as missing an essential part of the human experience. Lois Lowry thinks that being like me is dystopic. It's not fun to realize that about a book I read over and over, and then read again in school as the first book I really, properly analyzed for English class. Some fundamental part of me was formed when I wrote my first very angsty fanfiction about it for a school project. And this book looks at me with revulsion.

Lois Lowry is just wrong. I used to feel love and then stopped feeling it (and I need to post about that sometime, because all the loveless people I see talk about never having felt love and so I want to voice my own experience). I don't think I'm missing out. I have no desire to get it back. To be clear, I don't think I'm better off without it, either. It's a neutral thing. Some people feel it, some people don't feel it, and neither group is worse off. I wasn't any happier with it than I am without it.

I don't really have a point, except just that it sucks that the whole origin point of the teen dystopia craze that formed all of YA during my peak YA-reading years sees lovelessness as bad. But you know. Of course it does. So does the rest of the culture.

[vampkaashis-wife]

Osamu’s latest fidgety habit is twisting his wedding band around his finger - an expensive piece of jewelry he bought for himself alongside a matching piece for you. He still can’t believe it. The simple band of metal is a testament to a life he spent years building. While he would never call it perfect, he’s fairly certain that he would do it the same if he ever had the chance.

Even with the Olympics several years behind him, he sometimes thinks about what it would be like, playing on the global stage with Atsumu. He thinks about what it would be like if he had joined MSBY too, or if he’d joined the Adlers. He wonders if he’d choose to play with Sunarin or Aran instead. 

Today, though, he’s thinking about a different possibility. 

The possibility of you saying no to his marriage proposal and walking away entirely. 

It was a very near thing, he remembers. He remembers staring at the wall, day after day, the reflections of the ring scattered along the walls. Disappearing when he closed the box again. 

“Babe?” he calls into the kitchen where you’re doing dishes. The TV is on in the living room, and you glance up every now and then to keep up with the plot, yelling What happened? every time a commotion occurs and you missed it. He never knows why you do this. He said he could wait until all chores were done to start the movie, but you insist. 

“What? Did I miss something?” you call, both soapy hands busy with a pot. Your sleeves are slipping down your arms again, and Osamu pauses the movie. “Samu, no! Don’t pause it.”

He laughs. “Your sleeves,” he says simply, coming up behind you to pull them back up your arms. The motion is punctuated with a kiss to your cheek. “Are you happy?”

“You know I hate doing dishes.”

“And yet, you do them anyway.”

“Would you rather I create a beacon for the roaches? That’s unsanitary. I need to call whoever does the inspections at the shop; clearly, we’re all missing something here.”

The shop. You say it so simply, as if Onigiri Miya isn’t one of the biggest parts of your lives now and for the last few years. “You’re the roach,” he says. “Can’t get rid of you if I tried.”

“Don’t lie, Samu. You wouldn’t ever try to get rid of me, therefore, I cannot possibly be a roach.” After a pause, you add, “And Akaashi-san likes me, so I also can’t be a roach. He hates those. Now get off me, you’re in the way.”

He knows you’ve missed the question, but he’s sure he knows the answer all the same. A year ago, you shared a kitchen in tense silence, a fundamental unhappiness permeating the air. A year ago, you tried to throw all this away - through no fault of your own. It had been an awful time for you both as you transitioned out of student life and into the next thing, and yet…

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

In quick motions, you put up the final bowl you washed, rinsing around the sink before dangling your wet hands in it to keep the floor dry. You twist a little to look at the man next to you. “I know. I love you too.”

Before he can say anything even more pathetic and lovestruck, your phone rings. Shaking your hands off, you locate your phone. Samu watches you frown before drying your hands and picking it up. He knows who it is before you even say it. “Hey, Dad.” 

There it is, another one of the winds you always summon. They’re less of a hurricane than they used to be, though. More of a strong beach wind. He finishes cleaning up the kitchen while you’re on the phone, although there’s not much left to clean. 

He’s proud of you, he thinks. Proud of himself, too, but mostly of you. The first year of marriage isn’t easy, but after planning and executing such a large scale event with and emotionally drained you and your tense family, he thinks you’ll be alright. You smile more now, he realizes. You have more to say about, well, everything. 

Then his phone rings. Atsumu. “What do you want?” he calmly asks his phone. 

Atsumu immediately starts chattering into his phone. It’s hard to hear him over the crowd in the background. “Oi! Pick me up.”

“Where? Why?”

“Afterparty after we beat EJP. Sunarin forgot about me and went home first.”

“Shitty of him.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a shithead.” 

“Couldn’t you ask someone else?”

“Samu!” he whines in a truly atrocious voice. Osamu pinches the bridge of his nose as his twin keeps talking. “You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you.” Osamu sighs. “I’m not anywhere near Osaka, idiot. I wouldn’t be able to make it there for a few hours. I don’t want you to wait that long, not if you’re drunk enough to be calling for a ride home.”

A pause.

“Oh yeah. I meant to call Omi. I’m not drunk, by the way.”

“How do you make that mistake and not notice? You literally said my name.”

“I never claimed to be smart.”

“No one would believe you if you did.”

Another pause. 

“Fuck you!” 

“That’s the best thing you could come up with?” Osamu knows his brother can hear the raised eyebrows, even at this distance. “Call literally anyone else; I’m off duty.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that after dinner is Wife Time, and you’ve lost priority.”

“Piece of shit,” Atsumu mutters. Soon after though, he says in a voice too soft to be anything but loving, “Samu? I’m proud of you. You’re not making it easy for me to be the happier of us.”

For a moment, Osamu feels tears prickling behind his eyes. He blinks them away, instead watching you scribble something down, phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. Such a simple thing, but everything he’s ever wanted. “Thanks, Atsumu.”

[thatscarletflycatcher]

can you tell me what your thesis is about if you're willing to share??

Hi!!! Yes, of course! I need to go over and over the description of this thing in order to turn in a precise and compelling project for the board (attempt #3 at finishing this cursed degree, here we go! *sobs*).

My area of interest has always been Medieval Philosophy, Metaphysics, Ethics, Virtue Ethics and Aristotelian Ethics-Politics. My very first attempt was writing something on Metaphysics (transcendentals) then Ethics Metaphysics (the role of intellectual intuition in moral reasoning in Aristotelian Ethics, Book VI of the Nicomachean Ethics)... Neither worked mainly because a problem when talking metaphysics is... well, there's few words to use and little to say and I have always been a very succinct academic writer (yeah, I know, but it is true).

When I reached acceptance about that XD I moved on to trying something about Aristotelian Ethics-politics. Alasdair MacIntyre is a key author in that area, and he's a favorite of mine because in agreement or disagreement he's thought provoking, he has a sense of humor, and he's a hater of the fun kind. I know it isn't proper to call or pick academic authors because they are fun, but hey, he is. He is a curmudgeonly old man (present tense: he's 95), who kind of manages to disagree with everyone because he hates being put in boxes, but he's also always been very willing and open to listen to other voices and change his opinions on things.

For example, the refinement and reformulation of many ideas between his After Virtue (1981) and his Dependent Rational Animals (1999) came (declaredly) through a reading of certain feminist theory, which brought to the foreground to him how little academic Ethics had focused until that point on disability and caretaking.

He's also always been a versatile author in the sense of breaching the barriers between disciplines for the purposes of philosophical inquiry -After Virtue has a great deal to say about Sociology, and Dependent Rational Animals talks a lot about dolphins XD.

I decided I wanted to write something about this guy, but I got stuck because if you are writing on an author specifically, alone, how do you manage to write something that isn't like, textbook regurgitation? Theoretically I know it is possible, but it was very paralyzing to me all the same.

Enter Elizabeth Gaskell with a steel chair.

I love Gaskell dearly for many different reasons. I love the way in which she writes nuanced, believable, textured characters. I love the treatment of grief in her work, I love the compassion she has for her characters, I love how she makes interesting, central, and natural relationships between parents and children. I love that she's versatile too, and that she saw writing as a vocation, and how she manages to talk about so many different things in a novel without making it come across as didactic or preachy. But one very special thing that has called my attention is her specific interest in communities, and community building through friendship.

Very often her "proposals" of "solutions" to social problems, specifically in her industrial novels, have been dismissed as the utopian sugary pap of learning to share and be nice of someone completely out of touch with reality, but I think those readings are fundamentally missing the framework that makes her ideas make sense and be solid.

As an aside, I feel like that ungenerous reading is kinda rich when Hard Times and its "imagination to power!" concept or Shirley and its marriage solution keep getting praise to this day. You know. It comes across as a bit double standard-y, if you ask me.

But back to topic, guess who did consider friendship, understood as the ties that unite virtuous people in the pursuit of the good for themselves and their fellow men, the very foundation of society, and mankind as essentially social, and therefore for ethics and politics to be a continuum? That's right, my boy Aristotle!

And to that, between other things, when talking about the Aristotelian tradition of Ethics Politics, MacIntyre adds teleological narrative as the element that frames and anchors virtue ethics in this scheme. What is more, he dedicates A CHUNK of chapter 16 of After Virtue to Jane Austen, and why he thinks she's "the last key representative" of this tradition (which has sprung a non negligible amount of scholarship on Austen and virtue ethics).

And I'm persuaded that Gaskell is a significant successor to Austen in this way too, and that the certain sympathy people often perceive between them comes from this aspect (because, in all honestly, it's clearly not about tone or style).

So that's the aim/core of my thesis: to present/analyze/contextualize Gaskell's work within the framework of the Aristotelian Ethics-Politics tradition as understood by MacIntyre.

Of course because I am, in Nelly Dean's description of Edgar Linton, a venturesome fool, this is clearly very ambitious, and I am making it worse for myself by doing things like harvesting circa 350 titles for a thesis that won't require more than 50 and that cannot be more than 80 pages long. The clown shoes can be heard from the other side of the world no this has nothing to do with the fact that I don't think I'll ever get a masters or a PhD where I might be able to develop this concept beyond a very summary overview of N&S and maybe Cranford and My Lady Ludlow if I'm lucky.

And that's how I should have sent something to my advisor three weeks ago (I haven't yet) and how I'm half agony half hope about the whole thing, because I'm scared and anxious and full on rowing through Nutella executive function wise. Maybe I should get a rubber duck.

[glisten-inthedark]

Byler Analysis | A Master Analysis

Oh boy, this will be a long one but let's go.

In this analysis, I won't talk about lighting, or about pocket squares, arrows or rainbows. I will talk about only about what the show has showed and told us.

Because while I won't dispute that said lighting, blocking and signs might be important to the story, general viewers aren't aware of it and yet somehow they keep missing vital parts of the story.

The following points are those provided by us by the narrative, by what they show vs what they tell, so strap in because this is a long one. Some of these points have been brought up, actually I think most of them considering I'm new to the fandol but don't mind that.

Our first scene has the boys playing together, but only Will stays behind. It's important to note that while Will bikes away, Mike's eyes follow him as he leaves and he keeps on watching him, fact which is further proved by how the camera remains steady on him for a good while and just after cuts to Mike.

Mike is the first to notice how Will didn't show up at school, and two of his other friends didn't worry about it at first. Then, when Will's body is found, the reaction they choose to focus on it's Mike's. Which begs the question, why differentiate between reactions when all the boys care deeply about Will? Why is Mike's reaction more visceral, more aggressive? And more importantly, why follow him home where we can see him cry into his mother's arms? They didn't show us Lucas' reaction, or Dustin's, instead they focused solely on Mike. And yeah, you could argue that it's because he knew Will the longest, but then we remembered that according to Mike himself, he knew he loved El the moment he met her (I know that's BS, but bare with me for a second), so why wouldn't they show us him being that upset over her apparent demise? Yes, he asks them where she is but that's the only thing he does, and after he just keeps trying to contact her on his walkie but he never actively looks for her. We see that. We even see that he thinks he saw El at the school and yet dismissed it as his imagination.

Later, Mike would claim he never stopped looking for her but that's also not we actually saw. Yes, he called for her, but didn't actively look for her like we saw him do with Will.

There's a stark difference, because with Will he literally started a search party to look for him.

I'm not saying Mike doesn't care for El, of course he does and he always will, but it's not near the same vicinity of what we saw him do for Will and we can't pretend otherwise.

So, why was important that we followed Mike home as he comes to terms with Will's "death?"

It's one of the first signs that their friendship is different, more profound and of more significance.

3. Mike knew that Will was alive

I think most people don't realize that, but Mike knew, just like Joyce knew, that the body didn't belong to Will and he didn't even have the advantage of seeing said body.

They are the only two characters on the show that experience this level of connection to Will. One of them is a mother desperately looking for her child, the other is their best friend.

5. Mike's monologue to Will vs Mike monologue to El

By itself, it's easy to interpret Mike's monologue to Will as the act of a friend. But context is fundamental to storytelling.

Mike isn't the only friend Will has, Lucas and Dustin both care about him. But they made Mike the focus of that moment.

Why?

Bare in mind that all the people that are speaking to him are the people who love Will the most on the world. His mother, and his brother. It isn't just that these are people Will cares about, they are the people that care about him and that love him.

Again, Mike didn't need to be there. All the other boys were left behind, and yet, there was he.

Shouldn't we wonder why? Shouldn't we think about what was trying to be conveyed here?

Why is Mike different? Why is his voice that breaks Will out his trance? Why weren't all the other people that care about Will there too?

Why was it so vital that we saw Mike tell the story of when they met? Why wasn't Lucas there, or Dustin's?

Oh but that only proves they have a close relationship.

Sure, I'd buy that if it weren't for the fact that in season four, we are shown the opposite.

When confronted with his feelings - or lack thereof- Mike literally gaslights El, claiming he does say he loves her.

Later, in the actual scene, everything is pandemonium. El is chocking, the camera keeps showing us Will, there are multiple cuts that get us her reaction and Will's, and Mike hesitates.

The supposed love of his life is chocking to death and he hesitates. He's desperate, he wants to help but he can't, and the only thing that forces him is Will. He only says it because Will reminds him of the painting.

The more I think about that scene, the more contrived and nonsensical it becomes. Because look, I can be a pretty objective person, I can take my feelings out of the equation and state, confidently, that there's a contrast between Mike talking to Will vs him talking to El.

Another thing to note is that Mike doesn't hesitate to share about the brilliance that was meeting Will Byers. He doesn't have to think about or lie. He knows.

He tells the story of this little boy that was all alone, saw another boy on the swings, approached him and asked him to be his friend and how this boy said yes. But is not just that, is how making that decision turns out to be the best thing he's ever done.

He doesn't need to tell Will he loves him (in whichever way it is), it is evident that he does. Even it it's not romantic at the time.

When talking to El, he hesitates. He calls to her, doesn't use the words that he was meant to be using all along. It's only after Will tells him he's the heart that he does.

The contrast exists on the writing, on how things were edited and directed, and how the scenes land themselves.

You don't believe me? Watch them side by side.

The existence of Mike's monologue to El puts into perspective the existence of Mike's monologue to Will. In one, there's the presence of other people, a lot of cuts in between frames, there's the focus on someone that shouldn't even be there and above all else, there's a lie.

Mike didn't love El. He claims he knew then and there - the moment he met her - that he knew he loved her. But he couldn't have. Not when he was trying to send her away, not when the only reason he found her was because he was looking for Will.

But above all else. If that's the case, then choosing Will as a friend couldn't possibly be the best thing he's ever done, simply because the best thing he has ever done would have been harboring El, because he knew the moment he met her that he loved her. Or would've been any moment in which he could be with the supposed love of his life.

In the other, the light is deem, the focus is only on them, Mike tells this story and it's moved to tears by the sheer emotion of that moment.

If we treated Mike as himself and Will as a girl, the trope of true love that breaks the spell would be evident. Because that's what happens. Mike's love - in whichever capacity- breaks the trance.

6. The sudden and 180° shift in Mike's behavior from season 2 to season 3

I know that Mike has been acting well, how to put it nicely? Not like the Mike we met during season 1 and 2

And I particularly viewed that sudden as a combination of multiple things. Firstly, I believe Mike thinks he needs to grow up, and that involves leaving childish things behind.

He is trying to conform to the notions of masculinity, trying to adept himself to what he believes to be socially acceptable and that doesn't include spending time with his friends, one in particular.

But I truly believe that the main focus of Mike's behavioral shift lies in Eleven. He isn't aware of what he's doing, but his ovverfixation with her exists because of his mental state.

What happened in season one? Will got taken and El helped get him back.

What happened in season 2? Will got possessed and almost died, but El managed to shut the gate and save everyone.

But you know what else happened during that time? Mike was solely focused on Will. While yes, he was calling El, his only focus is on him.

Now, I can only guess and infere at this point because unfortunately we lost Mike's POV, but I believe that during the summer he started to figure out things about himself he wasn't ready to face yet, and the reason why he realized ironically lies between El and Will.

El brings Mike a sense of stability, of trust and reliability. At first, she makes him feel needed, but she also makes him feel safe.

As people, we tend to rely on what's safe. Most of anyone will safely not take the plunge, would rather be stuck on eternal revolving doors just so that they're safe.

It's a lot safer for a teenager to pretend.

To pretend that this is the life he chose, and he must commit to it. He compensates, and he deflects and projects because his mentality is all or nothing. He needs to like the girl, he needs to feel something for the girl because that's what everyone has been telling him.

And when he tells Will that is not his fault Will doesn't like girls it wasn't about Will. It's about projecting onto him everything he supposedly hates about himself.

And as El tells him he loves her and kisses her, he doesn't close his eyes and why wonders why is there this feeling of wrongness?

Because he doesn't want things to change. As he stares at that house, at the place full of memories, is not El he misses.

As he comes home and holds his mother, we get a full parallel to the first season. And I wanted to point out, that at both points he believes he lost Will.

In the first to death. In the second, to a different life.

And as he holds his mom, Mike almost seems... Numb. Like he shut down all high level functioning so he won't break down.

7. How Mike and El's relationship is structured

I would be saying this even if I wasn't a shipper, but it's clear that the writers themselves made a point of showing that whatever Mil*even has, isn't love.

When Mike lies to El about Hopper, it isn't to protect her feelings. It's to protect himself.

And when El lies to Mike, it isn't so he wouldn't worry, it's to put up a front. It's so she can pretend that she's normal and that she isn't a monster. She isn't a monster, but somehow he doesn't make her feel like he accepts her as well.

Now, let's compare this to Jancy. We know that Jonathan doesn't intend on telling Nancy about college because he knows she'd come with him and he doesn't want to hold her down. He wants her to be happy, above all else, even if it breaks his heart.

That is love.

Love is wanting the other person to be happy and accepting that they might not be happy with you.

Now, does that sound familiar? Well, it should.

Because it's exactly what Will does. He lies because he loves Mike and he doesn't think his words would matter, so like Cyrano de Bergerac, he treats what he says as words from El.

And I know some people would claim Will deserves better than Mike, but the thing is... While Mike made mistakes, we are shown that whenever Will is concerned, he apologizes for those. He admits he's wrong, he knows he shouldn't have done.

Mike acting like an ass sometimes doesn't suddenly erase every good thing he's ever done. And we don't love people who deserve it, that's not how it works. We don't choose who we love, love isn't a button you can turn on and off whenever it's convenient and only when the other person deserves it. Love is so much more complicated than that. Like, scholars have been trying to explain, quantify and apply rationality to it for ages, it hasn't worked so far for a reason.

[overandundertarot]

Quick PAC; Do they actually like you?

Does the person on your mind actually like you? This is meant to be for both platonic and romantic instances.

Please pick a picture; 1-3(left to right.)

Pile One

Cards; The Emperor, The Tower. Yes, they do like you. First of all, you give them a good public image and second of all, you force them to care about things that they had never cared about before. They are changing and they know it's because of you. They like how you make them feel and the effect that you have on their life. This person may be a bit egotistical.

Pile Two

Cards; The Hermit reversed, 7 of swords reversed. It's a maybe leaning towards a yes. This person is hesitant. They want to reach out to you but are afraid to do so. Extremely afraid, they are used to being alone and use isolation as a coping mechanism. They spend a lot of time in their head. Probably doesn't want to have to deal with the fact that real life is unpredictable and things may not go as they planned them. Feelings are kind of foreign to them and they go back and forth about how they feel(over analysing your interactions, withdrawing suddenly to see if they'll miss you, etc) They would love to ask you for help. They may have ADHD.

Pile Three

Cards; 6 of wands reversed, knight of wands reversed. No, this person doesn't like you. They don't think you will work well together. There are fundamental differences at play as well as trust issues. If you are asking about a person platonically, they are a fake friend and are mainly around for convenience's sake. They like to know whats going on/may gossip alot.

*****

That's it! Thank's for participating in this pick a picture reading! If you liked this reading and would like to book a private reading from me; you can do so here.

*The pictures are not mine, I found them on pinterest!

[atthebell]

Wait I'm confused how is the girldad stuff misogynistic? I'm not a fan either but i think I'm missing something here

i talked about this when people kept saying girldad shit about tubbo but i can't find that ask (thanks tumblr) so ill have to re-explain it.

"girldad" and "boymom" are both extremely troubled terms because of the way they set up gender dynamics within families. to highlight the latter quickly, "boymom" culture is obsessed with the idea that raising boys as a woman is so fundamentally strange, because women/girls are so fundamentally different from men/boys, and that it is also a mother's duty to raise her boys with the "proper" masculinity (assigned by our hegemonic culture, of course; this rarely refers to mothers raising sons and discussing consent and thoughtful masculinity with their children). with "girldad," the concept is really weird and awful to me because so often the implication is "see, look at this dad who cares deeply about his daughter(s)! isn't that unusual and to be remarked upon?" which is, to me, batshit. or it's about how different it is to raise girls versus boys, how rough-and-tumble boys are versus how precious and emotional girls are. it's gender essentialism, it's misogyny, it's patriarchal, and it's weird. raising girls and raising boys is not fundamentally different. there are different societal norms around each and different things you may have to address with your children but they are not different species and in an ideal world (which I recognize that we do not live in) it would not be different at all, your child(ren) would just have different interests and different behavior just as all children do. the idea that being a "girldad" is particularly special because you have to be more in tune with your emotions or that you have to "deal" with more emotions or more dress up play or whatever versus "boymoms" being special because it's women having to deal with rambunctious boys is ridiculous for both the children and the parents as well. there are plenty of women who enjoy the outdoors or sports or cars or whatever else people imagine to be solely within the realm of masculinity. there are plenty of men (and ought to be more) who like dressing up or enjoy playing tea parties with their kids (of any gender!) or don't mind pink and sparkles or anything else people imagine to be in the world of feminity. being a father to a daughter should not be any different to being a father to a son, and the fact that oftentimes "girldad" as a concept is used to put competent fathers of daughters onto a pedestal is ridiculous to me. yes, good parents and good fathers should be applauded, and i understand the historical context as to why the latter are so lauded, but acting as if it is unique and strange to be the father of a girl is ridiculous. my dad was not special or strange for wanting to spend time with me or play polly pockets or whatever when i was a kid. he was being a parent. it's sad to me that that is considered unusual or that we have to make up a word for "dad that is willing to play with his child."

[lemotmo]

Their ask box is still closed, yes I'm pathetic and checked, but I came across this while I was scrolling and thought I would share. The question was why do they like Tommy for Buck if they don't think he's his endgame. I never thought of Abby and Tommy like this!

I hope they come back 🤧

A. Hi anon, my day has been lovely so far, thank you! I hope your day has been good as well. With Respect to Tommy, understanding and liking what the shows intention with him is as a character is not the same thing as shipping him or Buck/Tommy. If you haven't watched the series in its entirety you won't get most of this, but if I went through every one of Buck's previous relationships and pointed out every flaw we would be here all day. So I'm intentionally going to trim things down. Buck has a long established pattern when it comes to his relationships. He meets them under uncommon circumstances (Abby through a 911 call, Ali during a rescue following an earthquake, Taylor while rescuing her from a downed helicopter, Natalia at a living wake while out on a call, Tommy during a rescue mission in the middle of the ocean). Then those relationships tend to more or less follow a similar pattern.

I'm not going to get into Ali or Natalia because they weren't necessarily important they were just part of his pattern. A broad description of Buck's dating past can be summed up by saying his relationships tend to be more about the physical connection than any kind of emotional connection. Their interest in Buck tends to be more surface level. The real Buck is not something they're interested in. I liked Abby for Buck as his first grown up relationship. She was older than him and was able to show him what an actual grown up relationship is like. She was also the one who showed Buck how important an emotional connection is in a relationship, Buck has been searching for that emotional connection since Abby. To me Abby and Tommy parallel one another, and I think that's intentional, but I will explain that when I get to Tommy. Abby was Buck's first step towards figuring out what he needs/wants in a partner.

Taylor is a bit more difficult because I think she only really hung around so long because the show wanted that relationship to work more than Oliver or the audience did. I liked her dynamic with Buck, for a bit, but I was far more interested in Eddie's clear disdain for her than I ever was in her actual relationship with Buck. But Buck made an effort with Taylor and it was important to show that he was willing to work for a relationship. However her eager willingness to use her connection with Buck for stories she could exploit was a glaring red flag of how fundamentally different they were as people. It also didn't help that this was the first time Oliver was as vocally against an onscreen relationship as he would publicly allow himself to be. Anytime a Buck/Taylor centric episode or scene would air, Oliver would counter it by posting an Eddie, Buddie or Buckley Diaz family moment from the same episode. A pattern Oliver has followed since, and one he reverted to often this past season. That was not an accident or coincidence.

Which brings us to Tommy. If Abby was Buck's first step, Tommy is his last step. Buck is so close to figuring it out, he just needs one final push. He started the season already searching for something and trying to figure out why he keeps repeating the same relationship mistakes. When Tommy kissed him it was a puzzle piece slotting into place. The missing piece was not Tommy. It was the realization that he is attracted to men. Tommy was and is not the point. Him being male was the point. Like Abby, Tommy is older than Buck, he has relationship experiences and life lessons that Buck has not had yet. As a result, he can walk Buck through the same relationship firsts Abby did only this time they're same sex relationship experiences. But other than that, the rest of their relationship is following the pattern of all his other previous relationships.

Tommy has not had many scenes or lots of dialogue so they are being deliberate in what they're showing and having him say. There have been several instances where Tommy had the opportunity to indulge Buck at least a bit, but each time he chose not to play along. The first one was the bachelor party. That was typical over zealous Buck. He had an idea, he got excited, he got carried away and no one was interested in playing along with him. Except Eddie, which the show made a point of making the audience aware of. Tommy not showing up to the party dressed in theme was fine, he was on call and that was an easy excuse, but making the theme the 80's means playing along wouldn't have required a ton of effort. He could have shown up in a neon colored T-shirt and he essentially would have been on theme. That wouldn't have required any effort, but would have at least shown that Tommy put some thought into it. Instead he showed up wearing a zero thoughts whatsoever plain boring henley. An Eddie wardrobe staple. Eddie on the other hand not only showed up dressed on theme, he matched Buck, and Eddie was even the one who suggested their outfits. The show made a point of showing the audience that Eddie absolutely made an effort to match Buck's enthusiasm. Something most people in Buck's life don't do. The next instance was the medal ceremony. Buck was proud and giddy and wanted to take a moment to enjoy it with Tommy but instead of letting Buck have the, well earned, self indulgent moment Tommy dismissed it by simply saying 'enjoy it while you can'. And yes it was foreshadowing Gerard's return but they didn't need to use Tommy's one line of dialogue to be the character doing the foreshadowing. They did it because he could hint at the Gerard thing and once again demonstrate he's not making effort where Buck is concerned all at the same time and with just one line of dialogue. The dinner date in the finale was an unmitigated disaster. I don't blame Oliver and Lou for that. That was a product of Kirsten's complete ineptitude. Even though her execution was abysmal she did stick to the direction she was clearly given, showing they're just not on the same page. Buck attempted to start an actual conversation, one that given the circumstances of the day, would most likely have turned serious, but once again Tommy didn't indulge. He took the conversation attempt and turned it into a daddy joke. Buck's relationship with Tommy is still following the long established pattern of his previous relationships. Tommy is an important piece of the puzzle for Buck, the reality of his attraction to men. Which is so close to being the last piece he needs before Eddie. So when I say I like this story for Buck, that is what I mean. I like the intention of Tommy's character. I like the purpose his character is supposed to serve for Buck's journey. It's important. It's necessary, and it's so close to being the final piece Buck needs.

Thank you once again Nonny, for dropping this in my askbox.

Our lovely anonymous OP is on a deserved break right now, but I agree that the answer above is amazing. So I am sharing it on my blog.

I'm not going to add any thoughts or observations under this ask, because -once again- the OP is dropping truth bombs and they nailed it on so many levels.

EDIT: well maybe I'll add one observation though. 😋 This ties in so well with Oliver's interviews about Tommy and how Tommy could be a friend to Buck to help him navigate these new feelings and this new part of himself.

Enjoy the read everyone. 😁

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[bits-and-babs]

I am so, so sorry for what you are going through.

I'd like to request another Kane x fem!reader, with them being inside the shimmer. Some of the prompts I love are 2, 11, 23, 37, 42! Was thinking what if reader was close with a different soldier, and was growing closer as things looked bad, though you and that soldier were never anything more than two friends comforting each other in the face of the end, and Kane finally snapped?

Thank you so much for the opportunity to request! Much, much love to you.

-ˋˏ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍-𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

— pairing: Kane (annihilation) x F!Reader

— word count: 1k

— warnings: light dub-con elements, creepy elements, biting, choking, jealous sex, breeding kink, cream pie (yes, I know, I have an addiction, WRAP IT KIDS), reference to murder. 18+ you nasty nasties.

kane masterlist I| main masterlist |l send me an ask

It rattles against the bars of his very being, the creature that had been rearing its ugly head since the moment he stepped in here. It’s snarling, threatening to burst through its confines when he sees Vallows wrap his arms around your shoulder in a comforting squeeze.

He’s curdling, twisting into something obscene in his envy.

“Hey,” Kane calls out, voice tight. He sees you look over your shoulder, startled by the noise with these round puppy-eyes that set him alight on the inside, flames of his desire swallowing the creature whole. He crooks a finger at you, watching you approach with a nervous expression on your face as though he’s about to whip you for miss-stepping.

“Come here,” he orders, and his stomach flips when you do exactly that, footfalls stepping in time with his own as he leads the way into the overgrowth. It’s vile, the sickly greed that had enveloped him since entering The Shimmer. Things weren’t right here; reality fundamentally twisted.

You look up at him with this expectant gaze that makes his body sing for you, the threads in the fabric of his being tearing with their need for you. When you open your mouth to question his taking you aside, Kane descends on you with an animalistic groan, smothering your lips with his own and grabbing at your body with greedy hands.

He should be appalled with himself, but you’re wrapping your arms around him suddenly, pulling his body into your own and breathing his name into his mouth— not his title, his name.

The both of you stumble into the flowering overgrowth, the pink petals of the blossom flowers shimmering rainbows like an oil slick as he rips off your camo trousers, his lips brushing the collar of your khaki polo shirt when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your throat.

“Kane!” You wail out his name and a pulse of something ravenous washes over Kane’s body. If he wasn’t already scrambling, he’s practically tearing your clothes off you when he tastes the iron of your blood on his tongue. Fuckfuckfuck, he needs this. He needs it. You’re not Vallows’. He can’t have you. You’re his.

He sucks on the split skin across the column of your neck, tasting more of the red blood that stains his teeth. You’re arching off the soil beneath you, pushing your breasts into his chest and whining at the sensation of pressure against your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans loudly, the envious monster scratching in the pit of his stomach gaining some relief when you work your fingers into his dark curls and press a kiss to his lips. You’re licking your tongue into his mouth, tasting your own blood on his enamel, and Kane’s cock leaps against the zipper of his uniform.

Christ, you barely give him a moment to respond. Your fingers don’t tremble when they reach for the zipper, ripping it down and working his belt open. Not bothering to remove it from the loops, you pull the button quickly, the metal of the buckle hanging at his hip rattling as you work his clothes down his thighs.

Kane growls loudly, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip and yanking your body across the emerald grass to pull you into position. It’s like you know, your thighs hiking up over his waist. You breathe in tandem, sharing one brain as Kane works his cock inside of you with a feral hiss of your name.

“Oh- ohfuckohfuck-“ the praises spill from your lips and it blooms a vengeful pride through Kane’s chest as he brutally slams into you. It’s earth-shattering, each slap of his skin on yours causing your body to hike up the soil and away from him until Kane grabs you and spears you back down onto his cock with a particularly vicious thrust.

“Mhm- Mhm, this fu-fucking Vowels-“ Kane spits, a rasp of something unhinged playing on his voice when you flutter around his cock, pussy gushing against his length, “Could he fuck you lik-like I can? Hmm? Could he fuck you like I can?!”

You’re sobbing loudly, shaking your head quickly as he fucks you into the floor. He can’t help but laugh cruelly, noting the way you look like the antithesis of those nodding-head dogs you see on people’s dashboards because you don’t stop rocking your head left and right.

“Didn’t t-think so,” he gasps as he feels you roll your hips up to meet his, chasing the orgasm you appear to be teetering on.

“Scream my name. Fuckin’ tell him who you belong to, Angel. Come on! I’ll fucking fill you up; go on-“

You do, God, you do. It breaks you apart, shatters your being as you cum around him with a scream of his single-syllable name that bounces off the bark of the shimmering trees surrounding you.

The hoarse cry you let out has him spilling into your sopping cunt, haggard shouts of your name bleeding between your whines. He feels like he pumps you full, painting his cock with a creamy slick as he continues to thrust in and out of you at a slower pace.

Only when you both pause, Kane leaning over you on shaky arms, does reality begin to ebb back into his consciousness, your heaving chest beneath him lulling him back to the sounds of The Shimmer. Birds that sound off, the beauty of the surroundings shifting ever so slightly to reveal the horrors beneath- rotting.

His post-orgasm haze seems to shake the overwhelming jealousy ever so slightly, just enough to give him pause. Shock stills his heart, his eyes staring down at you in fear of his atypical actions.

But he finds it so hard to feel guilt when you look at him, eyes all blissed out and lids hooded.

The Green-Eyed Monster rears its ugly head once more. It couldn’t bear the concept of Vallows taking you for himself.

Kane would have to remove him from the equation.

END

[butch-reidentified]

Hey! You! Maybe familiarize yourself with my views and what I mean by the words I use before getting into it with me 🤯 I have no interest in continually repeating the same things and having to refute pointless strawman arguments. Some useful & relevant links below ✨️

Note: Chill dysphoric people are welcome here regardless of identity; I just don't tolerate misogyny, homophobia, or racism, so if you do subscribe to an ideology or identify yourself as something you aren't in a way that is harmful to oppressed groups, you can expect me to say something about it.

1. About my elective (yes, elective) mastectomy aka top surgery, which I do not have any regrets about // my takes on dysphoria, dysmorphia, and medical transition: Here.

2a. "Why do radfems team up with conservatives?" (spoiler: we really don't) Also included in this post is an actual definition of bioessentialism, since yall cannot ever get it correct. ALSO also it includes my most fundamental qualms with gender ideology and the question YOU, dear reader, can answer to CHANGE MY MIND!

2b. Defining woman, circular definitions explained, and why sex is immutable and not a spectrum: Here. And a bonus: a well-done comic on why "woman = adult human female" is not reducing women to their genitals.

3. Read this before defending porn. If you aren't convinced after that, read this. Still a fan of porn? I have plenty more, just ask. Oh, and don't forget about the missing 15-year-old girl who was fucking verified on Pornhub with at least 58 videos of her uploaded. The man who kidnapped her raped her, impregnated her, and forced her to have an abortion. Again, she was FIFTEEN and she was VERIFIED on Pornhub.

4. Sex-based oppression (and why transwomen do not experience all the same things women & girls do): Here, here, here, here. Additionally and very importantly, what will happen if the category of sex is removed from the census: Here. Let me know if you would like more. I have many, many more.