#(this is about stories that have gotten overlooked)

[fictionadventurer]

Reblog and tell me about your favorite book (I want to say classic, but let's just say published before the year 2000) that has never gotten an adaptation.

[mariacallous]

The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

[good-beans]

@lemonpocalypse @kyanako5972 @adipostsstuff Thank you all for your wisdom 🙏 You are all so so correct and I am THINKING now...

Hmm you should all reblog with your Fuuta thoughts... Been an annoying brain day but I wanna think about my boy... 👀🔥

[charliemwrites]

As promised some time ago: Gaz!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

Main Story | Price pt. 2

Masterlist

[gladiatorcunt]

Feral feral Anakin fucking you every second of the day because he can’t get enough of you and is overly obsessed

send me coryo, luke castellan, or anakin asks (this is a threat)

implied canon compliant prequels and childhood friend afab royalty reader (basically in padme's place) based on an upcoming fic

This is canon Anakin behavior actually, he's like a big dog with his favorite chew toy. The dog obviously loves the toy a lot but it's because of his love that the toy becomes well used. No matter how tattered it becomes, the dog will still curl around it and spend its days licking the hell out of it until it withers away.

I think that because of how he grew up, just a little boy on some ball of sand whose life really didn't belong to him, as soon as he's free from that he just unravels. I love Anakin being written as more unhinged or even slightly like an eldritch horror, because suddenly he has this big destiny laid out in front of him and the tethers holding his soul together inevitably come unhooked. I think that he's wired like that from the beginning, very passionate but without a means to express it.

So, when he meets you, little royal heir with all the stars of the galaxy in your eyes, he tells a familiar story about an angel and from then on, it's over for him. Every moment of his life orbits around the sun in his solar system, you.

The first think he thinks when he sees you again, is how your moans would echo off the windows when he eats you out on one of the couches. Then he imagines your perfectly manicured hands clawing delicious ribbons down his back while he rabidly pounds your sopping wet pussy against the wall of your huge walk-in closet in your apartment. He'd have to hold a hand over your mouth, but he wouldn't do a thing to clean up the slicks that drips out of your pussy onto the floor. You'd pout as you'd rush to get ready before Obi-Wan came back, and all he'd be able to do in response is hook his chin over your shoulder and smile.

"No, it's because I'm so in love with you."

You're leaning against a balcony overlooking a lake in Naboo and all he can think about as he strokes a shy finger down your back is hiking your dress up and bending you over it. You're chained to a pillar in between him and Obi-Wan, and when all is said and done, he wishes he killed everybody that was relishing in your suffering in that arena and fucked you with their blood coating his body. He could go on forever until the last grain of sand on Tatooine flies away. He'd have gotten you barefoot and pregnant immediately if the leash around his neck was any looser.

No matter the fantasy or the moment, you always have at least one mark on you. He's not patient enough for hickies and his fingers move too quickly for any serious bruises to form on your body. He favors bite marks, near perfect impressions of his teeth etched in your soft skin. He doesn't bite to tear, just does his repeated 'chomp!'s without a single thought in his head; your thighs bear the brunt of it. Anakin likes when drops of blood bead at the surface of the bites, because then he can lick the bites soothingly. You usually have to run your fingers through his hair to get him to come back to himself when he starts doing it on autopilot with his eyes rolled back.

"Yes, yes, yessssss.... love fucking my cunt, missed making love to my sloppy pussy. Taking my dick so well, keep breathing with me, my love. That's it, just like that."

His way of saying good morning is languid strokes deep in your guts. His way of saying good night is crazed thrusts that have him putting it back it when his frenzied pace causes his length to slip out. He has is so hard sometimes, determined to carry the entire galaxy on his shoulders with you on top of it. You can the rising anger that builds within him when everything he does to prove himself goes unrecognized. The best way he has to ignore all of that outside responsibility is knocking your sweaty body up the bed while you're clutching the headboard for dear life.

Anakin's emotions bleed from him so openly, and all you have to do is drink them in. Because even though he wasn't free when he met you, you owned him them with his gift around your neck. You own him now, your cervix kissing his mushroom tip in its own display of affection. He is supposed to live his life with the intention to be the force's son, but he is burning to ash faster than he is fulfilling his destiny; at least he can keep you and your future children warm.

[secretmellowblog]

Jean Valjean's Canon Toxic Unhealthiness around Romantic Love

( alternate titles: “Does Jean Valjean is Gay?”, or “Does Jean Valjean is Asexual?” Or: “Why is it so difficult to slap an identity/sexuality label onto Jean Valjean?” Or “LGBTPTSD+”)

I was looking at the responses to this poll about whether people interpret Jean Valjean as gay/asexual/straight or something else….and it got me thinking again about Jean Valjean’s canonical intense, complex, awful, toxic, and overwrought emotions around identity/ romantic love. I want to talk about that for a bit because I think it often gets overlooked in fandom!

I've noticed that Les Mis fandom/analysis often tends to interpret Jean Valjean as being far more content, more "at peace with himself," and more "comfortable in his own skin" than he ever is within the novel. This is also a common change in adaptations. The musical's version of Jean Valjean is great-- but he also seems a lot more self-actualized, more like he's gotten himself completely "figured out" by the end of the story. Other, bad, Les Mis adaptations — the adaptations that generally portray Jean Valjean a worse more violent person — also usually make Jean Valjean more confident in himself, more confident in his own feelings/desires, more certain that he’s entitled to certain things, and more willing to demand or take what he wants.

But one major aspect of book Jean Valjean's personality is that he does not have a healthy relationship with anything about himself. He has a tortured broken relationship with his own identity. He repeatedly thinks about “Jean Valjean” as a person outside of himself, a person who he finds frightening, repulsive, savage, and horrible— like a wild animal he needs to sedate, or beat into submission. He is obsessed with self-denial and self-repression. He is fixated on the idea that he is subhuman, that he is not allowed to want things or to pursue having any kinds of relationships with other people-- and that the most heroic thing he can do is "grab himself by the collar” and violently force himself to stay away from the things he wants. He is desperate to be loved and fixated on being unworthy of love and on denying himself love. He is absolutely not at peace with his identity: to paraphrase Jean Valjean in one of the later chapters, he believes he can only gain inner peace by “eviscerating his own entrails.”

He is never truly content with who he is, what he wants, or what kind of love he wants— and he never learns to be. The novel ends with him cutting himself off from his only family, breaking ties with the only person who loves him, and essentially slowly killing himself out of self-loathing.

There are other characters in Les Mis who seem very content with who they are and what they want. Enjolras is self-assured in his identity, and doesn’t appear to feel like there is any kind of love that is missing from his life. Whether you interpret him as gay or ace or trans or w/e, book!Enjolras is written as someone who is extremely self-assured and has a loving support system that is enough to keep him happy. But I don’t think that’s true for Jean Valjean at all XD.

And that’s why it's hard to apply labels like “aromantic” or “ace” or gay/straight/etc to Jean Valjean, when talking about his canon characterization. Those labels imply the person has a basic level of comfort with acknowledging their own desires/lack of desire/identity. And Jean Valjean never achieves that level of comfort. What “label” do you give to someone whose relationship with their identity is “I do not belong in a family, I have no right to want things, I have no right to be happy, I am outside of life, and I will never be at peace until I eviscerate my own entrails?” Is there a “self-disembowelment" pride flag? XD I've seen a lot of interpretations that go "Jean Valjean never expresses any interest in romance, he's perfectly content just to have his relationship with his daughter" but I honestly don't think that's true. Jean Valjean tries to content himself with having only Cosette. But part of why everything explodes so catastrophically in the end of the novel is because he needs more than just a paternal relationship. He doesn’t try to have a “normal” father-daughter relationship with Cosette, he tries to force his relationship with Cosette to be literally everything and everyone to him, for her to be his entire world: and it doesn’t work.

There’s a passage in the novel that talks about how all the love Valjean is capable of ends up being suppressed/sublimated into his relationship with Cosette. The love of a brother, of a friend, of a father, of a husband, the love of everything he is capable of, gets repressed so that he can throw every part of himself into being a father. There are Bad les mis adaptations that incorrectly misinterpret that passage to mean that Jean Valjean is incestuous/grooming Cosette. But in context, that’s not what the passage means at all.

The passage specifies very explicitly that Jean Valjean “did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father,” that “no marriage was possible between them,” that his feelings for her are absolutely paternal. But the passage does show how Jean Valjean is doing a very different unhealthy thing: he’s relying on Cosette to fill every single emotional void in his life.

He’s relying on parenthood to fill the grief/emptiness left behind by all the other kinds of love that he has wanted, but never been given.

To quote a bit of that passage:

Jean Valjean did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father (…) Let the reader recall the situation of heart which we have already indicated. No marriage was possible between them; not even that of souls; and yet, it is certain that their destinies were wedded. With the exception of Cosette, that is to say, with the exception of a childhood, Jean Valjean had never, in the whole of his long life, known anything of that which may be loved. The passions and loves which succeed each other had not produced in him those successive green growths, tender green or dark green, which can be seen in foliage which passes through the winter and in men who pass fifty. In short, and we have insisted on it more than once, all this interior fusion, all this whole, of which the sum total was a lofty virtue, ended in rendering Jean Valjean a father to Cosette. A strange father, forged from the grandfather, the son, the brother, and the husband, that existed in Jean Valjean; a father in whom there was included even a mother; a father who loved Cosette and adored her, and who held that child as his light, his home, his family, his country, his paradise.

Jean Valjean reminds me of a Failmode I’ve seen in a lot of different real-life parents? There are parents who cope with their own hard lives by telling themselves that parenthood is their sole reason for being alive, and who obsess over their child’s success as their only source of purpose, meaning, love, happiness, community, and validation. But it’s a bad idea to rely on one child to provide the emotional support that should be shared by friends, parents, siblings, every possible loved one, etc etc—- One child can’t actually heal you from your trauma, be a replacement for your broken relationships, pull you out of your grief, save you from your adult loneliness, etc etc etc etc.

When I see the common interpretation that Jean Valjean is perfectly content just to be the father of Cosette, I think of this line:

Thus when he saw that the end had absolutely come, that she was escaping from him, that she was slipping from his hands, that she was gliding from him, like a cloud, like water, when he had before his eyes this crushing proof: “another is the goal of her heart, another is the wish of her life; there is a dearest one, I am no longer anything but her father, I no longer exist”; when he could no longer doubt, when he said to himself: “She is going away from me!” the grief which he felt surpassed the bounds of possibility. To have done all that he had done for the purpose of ending like this! And the very idea of being nothing!

On one hand, the terrible Les mis adaptations that portray Valjean as Incest Creep are incorrect and wrong. On the other hand, though, Jean Valjean IS unhealthy about Cosette— just in a different and actually sympathetic way.

He has made fatherhood his only purpose, to replace every other purpose he could have in life. So he can’t be “just Cosette’s father.” He can’t imagine her becoming an adult and leaving the nest, like children do. What does he have if he’s not taking care of her? What is his purpose in life if she doesn’t need him to be her parent? He's not just being her father, he's relying on her to be his entire reason to exist. He hasn't been allowing himself to have things outside of her.

And speaking of things outside of Cosette: segue time. This post was supposed to be about Jean Valjean and romance, so let's switch gears and talk about his canon 'romantic experiences' more:

We’re told that in his youth he “never had a sweetheart” because he “never had time to be in love.” There is no indication that Jean Valjean never wanted to be in love. The opposite is implied. Hugo frames it as a tragedy that Jean Valjean’s does not experience young love; it’s the horror of poverty taking yet another thing from him.

Within prison, Valjean is “gloomy” and “chaste;” when he traumadumps to Montparnasse about it, he talks about women looking on galley slaves with horror and disgust. Romance, at least “normal” heterosexual romance, is no longer something that is permitted for him. Jean Valjean knows very little about romance/love/sex and it repeatedly messes up his life. He spends 19 years in the all-male environment of prison, then about a decade in the almost-all-female environment of the convent. He has very little experience with how men and women are supposed to interact. The oppression Fantine faces as a sex worker, and Cosette's relationship with Marius, are both two big 'blind spots' that he struggles with.

At one point romantic love is described as “The only misery Jean Valjean had not yet experienced, and the only one that is sweet.”

In his massive confession to Marius, he agonizes over how he is not allowed to be part of a family, and is incapable of being part of a home. He compares himself to someone sick and diseased, that poisons good and normal people with his presence, and cannot be allowed to make himself part of their families.

So Jean Valjean doesn’t frame Romance as “a thing he doesn’t want:” it’s a thing “he is not allowed to want,” it is one of the many things he is banned from wanting. It's impossible to tell what kind of things he would want, if he were allowed to want them.

One of the most interesting things to me, however, is his general attitude towards Marius/Cosette.

Obviously his first reaction to Marius snooping around is fear and resentment— he doesn’t know to interact with romance, having never experienced it, and immediately begins catastrophizing. He views Marius as a privileged booby ruining his life for something as frivolous as a love affair: it reads to me as partially envy, envy of the fact that Marius lives the kind of safe comfortable life that allows him to experience young love.

Jean Valjean added: “What does he want? A love affair! A love affair! And I? What! I have been first, the most wretched of men, and then the most unhappy, and I have traversed sixty years of life on my knees, I have suffered everything that man can suffer, I have grown old without having been young, I have lived without a family, without relatives, without friends, without life, without children, I have left my blood on every stone, on every bramble, on every mile-post, along every wall, I have been gentle, though others have been hard to me, and kind, although others have been malicious, I have become an honest man once more, in spite of everything, I have repented of the evil that I have done and have forgiven the evil that has been done to me, and at the moment when I receive my recompense, at the moment when it is all over, at the moment when I am just touching the goal, at the moment when I have what I desire, it is well, it is good, I have paid, I have earned it, all this is to take flight, all this will vanish, and I shall lose Cosette, and I shall lose my life, my joy, my soul, because it has pleased a great booby to come and lounge at the Luxembourg.”

But, even though Jean Valjean views romance as something he isn’t allowed or have or to want, views it as a threat and catastrophizes over how it will ruin his life……he seems to also put heterosexual romance on a pedestal.

The way Jean Valjean idealizes marriage is one of his weirdest character notes for me.

He views marriage as Cosette’s “happy ending.” It’s her “happily ever after” point where she won’t need him anymore, where she won’t need anyone outside of her husband. A Man And a Woman Are Meant to Get Married, It's Fate, and It Means They Will Live Happily Together Forever. Marius is “the goal of her heart, the wish of her life; her dearest one.” Nothing outside of that matters anymore.

He treats her marriage as if romantic love is inherently always more important than any kind of platonic relationships, and always takes priority over them. He later dismisses the unconventional family structure he has with Cosette, saying that despite his love for her he was only a "passerby" and was not actually her real father, because they were not biologically related.

There's a moment where Jean Valjean is described as someone whose ideal is to be angel on the inside and a bourgeois on the outside. Jean Valjean's worship of bourgeois social norms, norms he can never truly be a part of, is one of his character flaws. He has a similar "guard dog" energy as Eponine does when she defends Rue Plumet from her parents.....Eponine and Jean Valjean both become the guard dogs of a kind of romantic relationship they believe they are banned from having. Jean Valjean believes that getting Happily Straight Married in a Middle-Class Home with a Picket Fence(tm) is the ideal path for life....but believes himself broken/incapable of ever following that path. And so he instead throws his entire life into securing that future for Marius and Cosette.

In what manner was Jean Valjean to behave in relation to the happiness of Cosette and Marius? It was he who had willed that happiness, it was he who had brought it about; he had, himself, buried it in his entrails, and at that moment, when he reflected on it, he was able to enjoy the sort of satisfaction which an armorer would experience on recognizing his factory mark on a knife, on withdrawing it, all smoking, from his own breast. Cosette had Marius, Marius possessed Cosette. They had everything, even riches. And this was his doing.

TL: DR:

Jean Valjean's gender/sexuality label is “idk but he’s super fucked up about it.”

[httpvomitello]

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

Donatello had always prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things—the way people hesitated, the subtle changes in tone, the details others often overlooked. It was part of what made him such a good problem solver, and right now, the puzzle in question was you.

You’d been part of their lives for months now, introduced as April’s best friend. Sweet, kind, and intelligent, you’d fit in with the group almost seamlessly. But there were walls you kept up, things you didn’t share, and the most glaring of all: your reluctance to let them come over to your home.

Donnie wasn’t one to pry, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself wanting to know what was behind those walls. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something deeper. He admired you, more than he cared to admit, and your quiet strength had a way of captivating him.

So when you’d canceled plans for the third time that week, claiming something had come up, Donnie couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Against his better judgment, he decided to stop by your place. He told himself it was just to make sure you were okay, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

It was late when he arrived, the soft glow of your living room lights spilling out through the window. Donnie climbed onto the fire escape, careful not to make a sound as he peered inside.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was a little girl. She was playing with a set of blocks, her face scrunched up in concentration. Her resemblance to you was unmistakable, from the curve of her nose to the way her hair fell in soft waves.

Donnie’s breath hitched.

Before he could process the revelation, the little girl looked up—and screamed.

“Mommy, there's someone at the window!”

Donnie backed away from the window, panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t meant to scare her. A moment later, the window swung open, and you looked outside, your expression a mix of shock and seriousness.

“Donnie?”

“Uh… hi,” he said sheepishly, raising a hand in an awkward wave.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

“I—I wanted to check on you,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to scare her. I didn’t know—”

“That I have a daughter?” you finished for him, crossing your arms.

He nodded, his gaze flickering toward the window where the little girl was peeking out cautiously. “Yeah. That.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the window before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “Because it’s complicated, Donnie. People judge me because of that. They assume things, say things… I didn’t want you guys to see me like that.”

Donnie frowned. “You really think we’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t take the chance. Maya’s been through enough, and so have I. I couldn’t risk you rejecting her—or me.”

He took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I could never reject you. Either of you.”

Your eyes met his, uncertainty flickering in them. “You say that now, but you don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me,” he urged gently.

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his voice broke down some of your walls. “Her dad… he left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn’t ready to be a father and walked away, a few months later I found out he was cheating on me and his mistress was also pregnant.. Since then, it’s just been me and Maya. And let’s just say people haven’t exactly been kind about it.”

Donnie’s eyes became more serious. “That’s… awful.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it is what it is. I’ve gotten used to people looking at me like I’ve failed somehow. I didn’t want you guys to look at me that way, too.”

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “And I never will. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and from what I can see, you’re an incredible mom.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. And Maya… she’s lucky to have you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally meeting his gaze again. “You’re really something, you know that?”

He smiled softly. “I could say the same about you.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing into something quieter, more intimate. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Do you want to come inside?” you asked.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Maya’s probably still a little scared, but… I think it’s time she met one of my friends.”

He followed you inside, his movements careful and deliberate. Maya was still on the floor, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly. When she saw him, her eyes widened, but she didn’t scream this time.

“Hi,” Donnie said gently, crouching down to her level. “I’m Donatello. You can call me Donnie if you want.”

She didn’t respond, her grip on the rabbit tightening.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly, kneeling beside her. “He’s a friend. Remember how I told you about Mommy’s special friends? Donnie’s one of them.”

Maya glanced at you, then back at Donnie. After a long pause, she whispered, “You’re really tall.”

Donnie chuckled, relief washing over him. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Your heart warmed at the sight of him interacting with her so gently.

As the evening went on, you found yourself smiling more, watching Donnie carefully build a tower of blocks with Maya. He was patient and kind, never once making her feel uncomfortable.

Maybe, just maybe, you had found someone you could trust—not just with your heart, but with hers, too.

[its-not-a-pen]

[餘知傳] The 2nd Century Warlord (Part 1)

based on the story by @romanceyourdemons

art by @its-not-a-pen

first day as a second century warlord i have my men tie branches to their horses’ tails to stir up dust and make it look like there’s a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isn’t any dust and the enemy can clearly see there’s like twenty of us all spread out in a line

second day as a second century warlord i bribe a bunch of kids to start singing a nursery rhyme i carefully crafted to spread misinformation and further my strategic ends but they change the lyrics to be about poop and the enemy isn’t misdirected at all

third day as a second century warlord i lure my enemy into a narrow valley and send a team of archers to shoot them from the high ground but there was a feral hog napping on the trail up to the overlook and they couldn’t decide whether to try and shoot it or just go around and by the time the hog woke up and left on its own the enemy had already passed safely below

fourth day as a second century warlord we attempt to join a battle on the side of the guy we want to ally with but he and the guy he’s fighting have really similar names and it’s finally dusty and i misread the standards and attack the wrong guy. so now we’re stuck with this total loser of a liege lord, because how the fuck do you explain that after a battle?

fifth day as a second century warlord and some sort of wizard wanders into camp, my loser liege lord wants to execute him for being a wizard but i convince him to let the wizard stay, because i want to do more weather-based strategies and i’m pretty sure having a camp wizard can help with that. after the welcome to the team banquet the wizard steals half the treasury and my liege lord’s wife and leaves

sixth day as a second century warlord my loser liege lord sends me to reinforce a city he’s taken, but in the confusion of leaving i forgot to take the token that would have gotten us into the city, so my men have to wait outside the city walls for like eight hours while i ride back to get it

seventh day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord finally joins me in the city, it turns out he’s actually a pretty cool guy, and he isn’t even that mad at me for letting the wizard steal his wife. i decide to shoot my shot but i’m really nervous and keep on stalling because what if i mess up our relationship and by extension jeopardize the security of my men, and eventually he just says goodnight and goes back to his room, where an assassin is in the process of setting up to kill him

eighth day as a second century warlord and my loser liege lord tells me to fake defect to his rival warlord, the one i originally wanted to ally with, to find out if he was the one who sent the assassin and why. but my whole way over to the rival warlord i’m worried that this has something to do with the wizard thing or how awkward i made it last night

End of Part 1

part 2

This comic was made independently from the creator, I'm just a fan and these are my own interpretations.

Notes under the cut:

the title 餘知傳 [the Story of Yu Zhi], is the styled name of the Second Century Warlord. I translated 餘知 as [plentiful knowledge] since he's defined by a surplus of knowledge but a deficit in luck. It's also great for fish-based puns since it's a homophone. As a nice parallel, Loser Liege Lord's banner is a carp ;))). the art style was inspired by vintage Chinese comics.

The story is set during the Three Kingdoms period, (220 to 280 AD) natural disasters, infighting and civil unrest had dissolved the previous Han Dynasty, leading to a violent free-for-all. I based the clothes on the previous Eastern Han styles, mainly because there just weren't a lot of contemporary references from the 3K period (and it only lasted like, 60 years). I always strive for historical accuracy, however, the Han Dynasty was over 400 years long and some sources don't do a great job separating out the different fashions, so I apologise for any mistakes that occur.

2. there aren't a ton of drawings on what Han children looked like, but in general ancient kids hairstyles are pretty consistent. 9-15 yo boys had shaved heads with two little top knots, girls had natural hair in braids/buns.

3. the crossbow (back left) makes a cameo, it was associated with Zhuge Liang, famous real-life strategist from the 3K era.

4. the LLL and his wife thank the Warlord, (a noblewoman on a battlefield??? scandalous!). it shows the LLL enjoys the unconventional and the wife is not as timid as she appears. I thought it would be funny to make them look as Background Character (tm) as possible.

5. I based the wizard's design on sages from mythology. (Hey, he's not a total fraud, he invented gunpowder 800 years before the Tang dynasty!) Nice little character moment for the LLL who is shielding his wife.

6. What do soldiers do while they're waiting for 8 hours? (<-from the right) playing knucklebones with pebbles, whittling a little horse, feeding sparrows, gossiping with neighbour, drinking from his gourd, napping. A minor warlord can't afford to keep a professional army so they're most likely conscripted farmers who've had to buy their own weapons and armour, hence why they look so unimpressive.

7. LLL offers the Warlord a bitten peach. Inspired by the legend of Mizi Xia who bit into a delicious peach and gave it to the Emperor so he could taste it was well. "Bitten peach" was a byword for homosexuality in ancient China. I thought it would be SO funny if the LLL was actually smooth af and the Warlord was a like a teenaged girl crushing for the first time. He's desperate to taste that peach but is too timid to reach out >;))) man has zero game. negative game, even. truely the PS4 of homosexuals. RIP to the assassin in the back corner who was forced to watch the most awkward, cringe-fail attempt at flirting in the history of china play out.

8. this is what zero peach does to a mf. UnU

[monochromatic-heartzz]

There's a part of Sampo's character that is easily overlooked. And that part is easily summed up with this one line

"Epsilon? What fun can you get out of a giant vanity fair like that? True happiness always entails the dignity of mankind. Now that's a quote i live by."

I get why more people don't talk about it, we're more focused on other aspects of his character, and that's alright.

However. It's a very important line.

To give a little bit of a "context". Epsilon, from all we've seen, is a star system of "easy pleasures". Entertainment industry, if you will. Many actors, movies, music, etc, comes from there. It's sort of like a hollywood.

Add on to this that the World's End Tavern is in Epsilon, aka, Masked Fools gather in Epsilon due to its easy ways to obtain Elation. Even the concept of the Tavern itself is an easy joy card. Getting drunk and watching fights could be many people's cheap way to obtain Elation.

And Sampo doesn't like that.

He believes Elation should be obtained after hard work. Through endurance and hope, not by cheapishly making whatever and hoping that is your reason for happiness.

Having small pleasures isn't wrong, but pretending it's the key to happiness is. Because it's not true happiness. It's a temporary substitute.

Elation needs to have purpose.

This. Is mainly why he loves Belobog so much. They've persisted so long. 700 years of hoping for a better tomorrow. And when they do finally get it, it's the best payoff they could've gotten. A nice "happy ending" to this story full of tragedy.

Now. This is a strange thing. Because, despite being a (probably retired) Masked Fool, his ideas of Elation align quite a bit with that of the Mourning Actors.

I think Sampo sees value in both sides of the coin. But he doesn't completely agree with both of their views of Elation. His path of Elation is his alone, he walks it by himself. Actually, everyone sees Elation differently. This is just his way of expressing his own ideas.

I love Sampo Koski can we get more lore on him please

[kitty-tea]

Like father, like son

Welcome to the third and final part of the story!

Here’s part one and part two

(Link to masterlist)

Summary: James finally gets what he wants.

A/n: thank you to everyone who’s read the story so far! Sorry this is so long and full of filthy, smutty goodness :)

Pairing: dilf!James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 5.4k

Tags/warnings: dilf!James Potter, super long, unprotected sex, age gap, low-key unhinged, almost-somnophilia, pet names, extremely filthy smut, NSFW, oral sex, p in v sex, teasing, reader is of age, dub-con (depends on how you look at it)

Hey, how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other. I know you’ve been busy with the Auror Recruitment Programme. Dad and I are really happy for you. We both miss you very much, and it would mean a lot to me if you would come to our house for my 18th birthday. We know you’re very busy, so it’ll just be dinner with the three of us and we’ll let you leave the next morning. We’ll even let you sleep on the pull-out couch just like old times.

-Your friend, Harry

You stared at the letter in your hand that Hedwig had dropped onto your kitchen counter after you let her in. The words “we both miss you very much” stuck out to you. You were reminded of how fast time passed since Lily’s death. The first month after it happened, the three of you were a complete mess. James had gotten a letter from Professor McGonagall saying that Harry’s grades were starting to slip, and he was in danger of having to repeat sixth year on top of getting kicked off the Quidditch team (something that upset both you and James as former players for the same team) if something wasn’t done about it. With you out of school and unable to spend as much time with him, there was nothing you could do for him other than to keep sending him letters of encouragement. Luckily for him, his supportive group of friends were more than willing to help him get back to his feet and help keep him on track to graduating. You still understood that neither James nor his son would ever get over Lily’s death because you never got over your parent’s deaths. You understood each other’s pain. You’d never be that type of person to tell someone to get over a loved one’s death no matter how long ago it was.

You scribbled your response to Harry’s letter promising him that you’ll be at his house, and tied the parchment around Hedwig’s ankle before sending her off.

You sat still on your chair with a dreamy feeling inside of you. If you were a cartoon character, there would be hearts in place of your eyes. That dreamy feeling only swelled within you more by each day until it was the day for you to see James.

James felt selfish for using his son’s birthday as an excuse to see you. He was the one who brought you up during dinner, casually mentioning that you hadn’t spoken with them in a long time. He then mentioned that with Harry’s birthday coming up, it would be the perfect opportunity for you to spend time together.

That’s how he found himself answering the door at six in the evening. His heart somersaulted into his stomach at the sight of you.

“Oh, hi James.” His eyes didn’t overlook the way your cheeks turned as pink as the sunset or the same shy smile you started giving him all those years ago.

“Come in, Harry’s inside setting the table.” He stepped aside as you walked in with your overnight bag slung onto your shoulder.

James didn’t care if you caught his eyes hungrily exploring your body. Actually, he wanted you to catch him, so he could see how you’d react. Would you blush an even deeper shade of red and turn away? Or would you boldly hold his stare?

And what the hell were you wearing? You were (definitely) trying to seduce him with the tiny skirt that almost showed the plump skin of your ass and that white blouse that was high enough to show your belly button and exposed your shoulders. There was no way you were wearing a bra with the way your nipples were showing through the soft fabric, just tempting James to reach his thumb out and rub it over the hard peaks.

He then realized he couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he let his mind wander to you as he’d pleasure himself in the privacy of his own room.

He really needed to get himself together. He was not about to let his inappropriate thoughts about you slip out in front of his son.

“Happy birthday!” Your voice snapped James out of his thoughts as he saw you run over to Harry and give him a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He returned your hug. “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you starving?”

“I know you are.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, only to abruptly stop with a blush when your eyes did indeed catch James looking at your body, specifically at your thighs that he saw you rubbing together. “Oh… yeah, what’s for dinner?” Your voice stumbled.

“My favorite, obviously because I’m the birthday boy.” Harry said in a joking snobbish way.

Throughout dinner, James sat back during most discussions you and Harry were having, enjoying the peaceful quietness without having to worry about the chaos that had been happening in the rest of the Wizarding World.

James didn’t know or care what time it was when his eyes opened to the sight of the still darkened sky outside his bedroom window and the dry, raw feeling inside his throat. He needed water which meant he’d have to go past the living room where you were sleeping in order to get to the kitchen.

Being careful not to make too much noise as he stepped past Harry’s bedroom door, he made his way down the stairs.

If the word temptation was a person, James was sure it would be you. His eyes gravitated up your exposed legs before landing on the hem of the short, pink satin robe you were wearing, your sleeping form undisturbed by his presence.

A more sinister part of his mind was begging him to walk over to you and untie your robe. One little peek wouldn’t hurt right? It told him, but he screamed at that part of him to shut up and that Lily would’ve been furious enough to come out of her grave to give him some sort of a spiritual beating and an earful if he did something that devious to you. It was just a thought. Not everything he thought needed to be acted out.

He wasn’t married anymore. He didn’t have to feel guilty about his dirty thoughts about you, right?

James found that his previous thirst for water was replaced by something else. He sat on the armchair next to the pull-out couch as he reminded himself about what he’d been taught: that men are allowed to look but not touch. But he wanted to touch you. His fingers twitched around the armrest as he imagined tracing them along your exposed inner thighs before dipping below the hem. Would his fingers feel a warm slickness or a piece of fabric? Were you wearing any underwear at all? It was hard to tell with your legs closed.

James couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care anymore that his conscience had no control over his body as he got up from his chair and the backs of his fingers found themselves brushing a strand of hair out of your face and down your neck. He made up this pathetic excuse in his mind that he had to check your pulse to make sure you were alive.

That excuse was so pathetic that James instantly snatched his hand back and mentally scolded himself before swiftly retreating to his bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom with your toothbrush bag, you adjusted your robe. You heard sounds coming from the kitchen which you deduced was James cooking something. You were right, for you spotted him behind the island where he was balancing a mixing bowl in one hand and holding a whisk in the other as you poked your head into the kitchen. You also noticed instantly that he was shirtless. And his muscles were on full display.

Although you’ve imagined what he’d look like without a shirt countless times, nothing could compare to the real view.

“Good morning. I didn’t see you there. I’m making pancakes.” You didn’t know what sounded more delicious: the pancakes, or the sound of his raspy morning voice.

You forced yourself to move your entire body into the kitchen.

You couldn’t remember how to speak as you felt your cheeks flame up and your eyes glue itself to his abs.

“Would you like to help?” Oh, you wanted to help him with something, alright. Just not the type of help he was implying.

You nodded and James gave you a smile as you made it to the kitchen island and set your toothbrush bag down. It was more like a smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You cringed at how your voice sounded like an angry little kid.

“It was like you were hiding from me.” Your heart fluttered even more inside your chest at the sound of his laughter. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

When you hadn’t broken out of your trance, James brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright?” He asked. You weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. You were busy staring at every body part of his from his eyes down to the V-line of his abs that extended below the waistband of his sweats.

You also weren’t paying attention to how you were squeezing your legs together to soothe the ache that was starting to form there.

“Hey, relax. You’re all tensed up.” You gasped at the feeling of his cold hand on the heated skin of your bare thigh. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as you felt his thumb gently rub circles in an upwards direction.

If what James was already doing to you felt this good, you thought the pleasure he would bring to you if he touched you in other places would be beyond anything you felt in your life.

“I don’t like what you’ve been doing to me, babydoll.” James murmured into your ear, his voice making you melt. “What were you thinking? Tempting me last night in that short skirt and your tits practically on display? In front of my own son? Everyone else thinks you’re such a good girl, but I see right through you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked in your confused and dizzy state.

James scoffed. “Even a Muggle would be able to read you. You’re just as terrible at Occlumency as you are talented at Legilimency.”

So he did know about your crush on him… the question was how long had he known?

“Oh, I’ve known for a while…” James smirked, answering your mind. “Since I was married, actually. And I’ve seen your little sex dreams. They’re even better than those cheap porno films. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“James… you’re scaring me.” Your lower lip quivered. How on earth did things escalate this fast? You were beyond horrified that he could see things in your mind that even you tried hiding from yourself. There was no going back now. No more lying to yourself that you only saw James as a father figure.

“Father figure?” James asked incredulously. “Quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted that with all the magic you have, you never once saw the things I’ve thought while I was around you. If you would’ve used Legilimency on me at all, you would’ve seen all those filthy thoughts I’ve had about you that no father should have.”

“James!” You gasped as his hand disappeared below your robe and landed on your hip bone.

You were clenching your thighs so hard that you could feel some of the stickiness from your cunt leaking onto them.

“Open your legs. I want to know how filthy my little girl is.” He whispered and you obeyed. You sucked in a breath as you felt his long index finger venture into the crease of your thigh before using it to collect your warm slick and spread it up and down your pussy. You moaned and instinctively grinded against his fingers.

“Have you always been this wet in front of me?” He whispered.

You shamefully looked down. You didn’t want to answer him, why should you when he already knew?

“Dad? Are you in there? Where’s-” You heard Harry’s voice from inside the living room.

“Yeah, she’s right here in the kitchen with me! Don’t come in yet! We’re both making a surprise breakfast for you!” James hurriedly interrupted him.

Really? You thought as you rolled your eyes. If things were to get more out of control, you’d be on your way to making a surprise baby.

You bit your lip as James slid his finger inside and curled them upwards hitting that deep spot within you that you couldn’t reach as well with your own shorter fingers. With his thumb, he rubbed tight circles around your clit, making your legs want to give out from underneath you. You didn’t know which of those two spots he was touching you felt better.

“Okay. Should I go wait in my room?” You almost forgot Harry was still there. What kind of game was James playing with you, talking to his son so casually as if he wasn’t doing something dirty with you?

“Yeah, we’ll call you over when we’re done!” James shouted. You let out an exhale as you heard Harry’s footsteps rush upstairs.

“Just look at you. My sweet, perfect little doll.” James’ eyes followed the fingers on his hand that weren’t buried in your cunt up and down your body. “Can I look at these?” He softly cupped his other hand under your breast making sure to give them a gentle squeeze.

You breathlessly nodded and tensed under his touch as he used his index finger to slide the robe off both of your shoulders. You felt your nipples harden into peaks at both the sudden air and James’ hungry gaze on them.

Your eyes slid shut as his lips left a trail of kisses that started from between your breasts and ended at the side of your neck where he started sucking on the sensitive skin. The harder James was sucking on that one area, the harder it became for you to hide your whimpers. With each pump of his fingers inside of you combined with the pleasure he was giving you on your neck, you felt your body getting closer towards the edge of something until you couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t control your hips as they thrust themselves onto his hand. Your panting was shaking your body just as violently as did your orgasm.

“Oh, James.” You quietly whimpered into his ear as your hands found their way to his messy hair.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” His soft voice replied back.

“Feels so… good.” You pushed the sentence out of you as the last remaining trembles from your orgasm left your body along with James’ fingers.

“James!” You suddenly exclaimed, remembering. “Breakfast!”

“I know, I didn’t forget.” A smile broke out on his face.

He continued to look at you like you were the most perfect thing he’d seen as he helped put your robe back onto your shoulders and clean you up with a towel.

You were still blushing and avoiding eye contact with him while you were helping him in the kitchen, but that didn’t stop him from gently caressing any part of your body he could from behind you every few minutes.

You gasped every time his face would find the crook of your neck or his hands that would wrap around your waist.

Soon, James left to go knock on Harry’s bedroom door to let him know breakfast was ready while you stayed behind to get the table ready.

James came back (with a shirt on unfortunately) with Harry running like a little kid in front of him, dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

“I’m starving!” Harry shouted excitedly, eyeing his plate. You laughed at him, glad to see his energetic old self that you missed.

You and Harry mostly spent the rest of breakfast catching up some more, before he told you he’d leave soon to go to the Weasleys’ for the actual party they were throwing him where the rest of his friends would be.

James sat across from you while you sat next to Harry at the table like how it used to be.

“What happened to your neck?” You and James froze upon seeing Harry point to the bruise that was the same color as the jelly on his plate.

“I…tripped.” You promptly used your hair to cover up the area so that Harry wouldn’t have enough time to inspect it.

“You need to be more careful next time. The corners of the tables can be quite sharp.” James chided you gently as if he wasn’t the one that caused this.

“Oh. Funny how I didn’t hear you screaming earlier.” Harry shrugged. “You should put some ice on it.”

“Well you know she’s in Auror training and she’s been learning how to keep quiet.” James said with emphasis on the last two words with a sly look in your direction. He then got up to walk to the freezer.

He returned a moment later with an ice cube wrapped around a paper towel. You felt a spark where your fingers touched his as he handed it over to you, almost convincing you to put it over your reddening cheeks instead.

After the three of you had finished breakfast and Harry had disapparated out of the living room, it was you and James alone.

“Do you need me to help you wash dishes?” You asked awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I can stay here and help. I got the day off today.”

“Or you could wait for me in my bedroom.” James murmured as he sneakily slid his thumbs up your thighs. “You could help me in there.”

“Deal.” You got on your tiptoes and gave his cheek a quick kiss before departing for his bedroom.

As you came up in front of the door to James’ bedroom, your hands started to shake as you pushed it open. In all the time you spent there, this was the only room in the house you had never stepped foot in. You were starting to feel awkward, knowing this used to be Lily’s room too, and the bed that was in the middle of the room was most likely the same bed that she shared with James too.

You started to feel anxious with all these thoughts that popped in your mind like, “What if James is just using me as a distraction to help him get over Lily?” “Does James want me to replace her?” “Would I be insulting Lily’s memory if I slept with her husband on the same bed as her after everything she’s done for me?”

As for what you thought about James, you didn’t want to use him as someone to just sleep around with. You didn’t ever want to replace Lily. She was a completely different person from you. That was it. She was a person with thoughts and feelings, not some object with mass-produced replicas. You didn’t know how to answer that last question you asked yourself internally.

You walked over to the bed, taking the time to run your fingers over the soft blanket that covered the bed. You then took in the rest of the room. You watched the tree in front of the window shade the room from the full sunlight, giving the white walls and floor the illusion of a blue-ish gray undertone. You noticed that unlike the rest of the house, there was an absence of pictures. You assumed it was so that James wouldn’t be reminded of the pain of losing his wife as he was trying to go to sleep. Besides the bed, the only furniture there was were the drawers, a vanity, and a desk with a chair. The only two doors besides the entrance were what looked to be the master bathroom and the closet.

Although you and James had known each other for years, you didn’t feel right to go and snoop around his stuff. But he did snoop around your mind. Is that any different? That still wasn’t a good enough excuse for you to go through his physical stuff.

You instead elected to take a seat on the foot of the bed with your legs crossed, your mind spacing out over to the tree by the window.

“I hope someone didn’t start without me.” James’ voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was leaning on the doorframe, his glasses and side-smile leaning with him.

You shyly turned away as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

“You’re so pretty.” James said as he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “What’s wrong?”

He gently cupped your face with his other hand, turning you towards his direction. You nervously looked down to where your lips were nearly touching.

“Do you actually want to do this with me? Am I just a distraction for you?” You whispered the last sentence. You couldn’t bring yourself to mention Lily directly.

“No, Sweetheart. You’re so much better than that.” James brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it.

At that moment, James wanted you all to himself. He knew there would be consequences later if that happened. He could give you a choice to either sneak around with you behind his son’s back or go public with everyone else about your relationship and face the risk of shame. That was if you wanted it as much as he did, which he knew you did, but were you willing to give in and go that far? Would you change your mind?

And Harry? So what if he had a crush on you? You weren’t ever going to go for him anyways. James was the one who got what he wanted, not him. Not everyone gets what they want in life. Damn, he was thinking selfishly, so unlike how a father should.

No matter how happy or sad you looked, James couldn’t stop thinking of how gorgeous everything about you was, your eyes, your soft lips, the way your hair fell and framed your face, the blush on your cheeks that was as potent as the flame in his heart, it was like you were pulling him in without trying as his lips automatically found its way to yours.

As he got a taste of you, he knew he was instantly addicted. Just the taste of your lips wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hold your body close to him, so he wrapped his arm around you and grabbed one of your legs and put it over him, making you sit on his lap, facing him.

If he hadn’t required air to be alive, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let go of you. The both of you were left panting as you got a look at each other.

“Take this off.” He pleaded, tugging at the string of your robe.

As soon as you took your satin robe off, he wasted no time in flipping you over onto your back, making your hair spill out below you and knocking the air out of you.

“I can finally have this beautiful body all to myself.” You mewled as his thumb flicked over the hardened bud on your breast.

“Aren’t you just deliciously adorable?” James let a filthy smirk grow on his face as he squeezed your breast and attached his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

You started to squirm more and more under him with each lick on your nipple until you couldn’t control your whimpering.

“It’s okay, Baby. You don’t need to hold back.” James cooed.

He got up from where he was above you. He yanked his white t-shirt over his head before he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the outline of his erection in his boxers to you.

“Do you want to feel it?” James took a hold of your smaller hand. Sitting up, you bit your lip and nodded.

“It’s so…big.” The way your voice sounded so innocent like you were discovering something fascinating only made the hardness of his erection more painful. James sucked in a breath as your hand gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, open your legs.” He commanded urgently.

When you were too distracted by studying the dimensions of his cock to respond, James took matters into his own hands by jamming both hands between your knees to pry them apart.

The sight of your glistening arousal in front of him was a reward in itself. But he couldn’t stop there.

“I already made you cum today and you’re still wet for more. You’re such a greedy little slut.” James purred deeply. “How about this? You use those pretty lips to suck me off while you touch yourself.”

Your big doe eyes only widened at him as your mouth hung open. Just that look on your face only made James want to cum even more.

“Come on, Babydoll,” He reveled in how nervous and tiny he was making you feel. “Don’t be shy. I know you touch yourself while thinking about me. And now, I’m right here.”

He took your hand off his cock. He could feel your eyes studying his movements as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, making his dick spring out in front of your face.

“Get on your knees.” He easily pulled your smaller body off the bed and onto the floor, while he took his seat where you were.

There you were, naked in front of him, on your knees, staring up at his cock, like you were worshiping it.

James could feel your hesitation as your fingers reached out over the tip.

“You wanna taste it?” James brushed his fingers through your hair, attempting to relax you. You nodded. “Why don’t you ask?”

“C-Can I taste it, please?” How could he ever deny you, especially with you asking him so innocently and politely?

“Of course.” He couldn’t take his eyes off yours as you continued looking up at him while letting his cock slip past your lips. You then reached your hand down between your legs, touching yourself just as he had instructed.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his eyes. You were there, really sucking his cock, making the dirty fantasies that had been manifesting inside him come true.

“Fuck, that’s it Baby.” James grunted as he pushed your head down on his cock. “You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect.”

When your wet tongue hit the vein on the underside, James let a string of curses erupt out of him. That seemed to encourage you to keep going as you wrapped your free hand around the base and pumped it in sync with your mouth.

A little while later, James could feel himself getting closer to cumming when his body tensed up.

“Keep going, Baby! Good job!” He kept praising you breathlessly as he stroked your cheek.

He finally felt his cum spill into your mouth as you swallowed it, some of it still spilling down your chin.

“Fuck,” James sighed as he gathered his cum that was on your chin with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. He felt his gaze darken as you greedily sucked and licked the entire thing. “You’ve been such a good girl. Let me make it up to you.”

James pulled you off the floor and into his body, holding you close to him as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

As you let the heat of James’ body wrap around you, he flipped you over so that you were on your back again. Glasses or no glasses, he was the most handsome man you’d seen in your life. You no longer gave a damn that he was almost old enough to be your father. Maybe you did have a type. He had made you feel like you were the most special girl in the entire world, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way.

“Hold onto me, okay? I’m going to make you feel good. Don’t you want that?” James asked as he kissed you under your jaw, making you whimper at the pleasure he was imposing on the sensitive area.

“Yeah I want your cock deep in my pussy.” James seemed surprised at the uncharacteristic filth that came out of you to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you had such a filthy mouth to go with that innocent face.” James said as he brought his lips onto yours.

As he did so, you felt something against your entrance, presumably the tip of James’ cock. He wiggled around some more until he had finally coated his cock in the slickness of your walls.

“Are you alright?” James rubbed his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

You nodded as you bit your lip. You just needed a little time to adjust to him. His cock was longer and wider than anything you ever inserted into yourself. But he filled you up in the best way possible better than your fingers or even the handle of your hairbrush could.

“It feels so good James.” You were panting as you grabbed a hold of his shoulders. Another scream left you as James’ finger rubbed your clit, adding more pleasure to your cunt.

“I want you to cum for me, Beautiful.” James grunted as he continued to thrust his cock deep into you, making you whimper and moan under him.

You were now getting addicted to the full feeling of James’ cock inside you along with the stimulation on your clit. Your head was starting to feel like it was floating on clouds. In your cock-drunk state, you kept moaning James’ name and telling him how good he was making you feel, just how you did in your countless sex dreams about him.

You couldn’t believe this was real, and it was happening to you.

“James! James! Fuck! I’m so… so close.” You sobbed into his shoulder.

“I got you Baby.” He cooed.

“Feels so big and good…” You continued moaning sentences until it turned into incoherent mumbles.

The full feeling of James’ cock combined with the intense tingling on your clit had your walls squeezing around him soon. You started screaming James’ name again through your orgasm that flooded through you.

“Fucking hell!” He suddenly grabbed your hips, and looked at you as if something came over him.

He then pulled his cock out in the middle of your orgasm. He was kneeling above your spent body with his hard cock in his hand that was still coated in your juices.

With a couple strokes, you felt the warm liquid drip down onto your tits and your stomach. You were now painted with James’ cum, and he was the artist admiring his work.

Both of you took deep breaths as you looked at each other while coming down from your highs.

As soon as James had recovered, he got up and ran his hands through his messy hair. You were too tired to sit up, so you could only watch as he put on his boxers before he went into the master bathroom. You heard the water running, and not long after, James had returned with a towel in his hand.

“How do you feel?” He asked gently as he wiped the towel across where his cum was on your body.

“A little tired.” You sighed. James rubbed the towel in circular motions on your breasts, effectively massaging them. After he cleaned you up, he discarded the towel onto the nightstand.

“Come over here, Beautiful.” James opened his arms up and you rolled into his embrace. You closed your eyes as he pressed faint kisses on the back of your naked shoulder, making you shiver.

You were scared, but also excited to see what your future would look like with James.

Tags

@xcinnamonmalfoyx

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Triage

I am extraordinarily late to this party but I am here to scream about Triage, a show which I started on a whim after a stray comment from @incandescentflower and subsequently finished in two sittings. This drama has been on my list forever (I didn't watch it live because the distribution was wacky) and then it just kept getting overlooked as I fought to keep up with the deluge of Thai BL coming at us at all times. But I am very glad I finally hunted it down and made the time and I would like to tell you why!

Hello Again, Dr. Sammon

I am on record as a Sammon fan. She is one of the best writers working in Thai BL and she has a knack for mystery and suspense. Her narratives are always really well constructed with tight plotting and smart character work, and Triage is no exception. This story feels confident, steady, and complete in a way few Thai BLs do.

The time travel rules are blessedly consistent

Part of what makes the story sing is it's a time travel plot that actually gets the particulars right. In a time loop, the details are everything, and this show understands that. The series of events are consistent, the rules of the time travel mechanics are clearly explained, and when our protagonists learn something new, it always lines up with something we'd gotten hints about before or gives us new context for old information. There are no loose threads in this show.

My boy Tin is going through it

Tin is a fantastic protagonist. He starts the show disillusioned with his work and hilariously grumpy about this time loop situation--he is a busy ER doctor and he does not have time for this--but as he starts to piece together how the loop works he gets more methodical in his approach, and eventually becomes emotionally invested in his mission to save Tol. Tin felt really well-calibrated in that he was smart and he tried all the things you would be shouting at the screen for him to try, but he's still a human being with flaws and insecurities and so he makes mistakes, learns, and has to try again. The show really successfully put us in the frustration with him.

Tol makes for an interesting damsel

Because he's kind of an asshole! Tol is rude and disrespectful when he first meets Tin, he hangs around with some truly awful bullies, he treats Rit like garbage, and he's all around an arrogant dick. Until he isn't. I like the choice to make the focus of our mission such a difficult character, not only because it makes Tin's challenge that much harder, but also because it invites us to consider the reasons why someone might be behaving the way he is and whether they can be redeemed.

This show has everything: action, romance, and agony

It's truly an emotional rollercoaster all the way through, and you can't relax for a moment. The pacing is relentless through most of the show, and even as a bond develops between Tin and Tol and they begin a tentative romance, danger is lurking around every corner. As soon as these boys started making out in episode 9 I knew something awful was coming for me and IT SURE DID.

Jinta, the ultimate frenemy

On that note let's talk about Jinta, my nemesis!! Jinta is some kind of unspecified deity/whimsical god and the one who appears to be responsible for putting Tin and Tol in this loop. Is he trying to help them? Is he trying to torture them? I definitely think it's both! He seems to delight in showing up to taunt Tin as he struggles to figure out how to get through to Tol, and when it's Tol's turn on the merry-go-round he sends him to the darkest timeline for his high stakes final attempt to save Tin just because he can. I love/hate you, sir!

Sing and Gap and the darkest timeline

Speaking of which, can we talk about how appropriate it is that Sing and Gap are a couple only in the darkest timeline? I don't know if people were shipping this for real during the live watch, but I definitely was not and so I started cackling when we got to the worst possible timeline and Sing was suddenly calling Gap his boyfriend. Sammon, you are hilarious and I salute you.

Fantastic side characters

Let's talk about the sides I did love. First of all, aside from his weird aggressive flirting/not flirting thing with Gap, I actually did like Sing's friendship with Tin a lot. I also loved the hospital gang who were around to alternately tease and help Tin, most especially Toy and Fang. Toy is a sweetheart and a gossip who never misses a trick, and Fang is an actual badass who first cracked the case with that evil doctor and saved Tin's life. They are fabulous. Rit was also an excellent character with a lot of complexity and he added some much needed depth to the school storyline (does anyone else think he was basically the proto-DFF Non?). And while Mai and Heart were not my favorite people, I did appreciate that the show gave them a sympathetic portrayal instead of making them evil villains (we had the organ harvesters for that).

That beautiful clocktower

I must give a shoutout to this gorgeous clocktower featured in several important scenes. I got so excited every time it showed up. Fun fact: in the first clocktower scene I was like oh hey I recognize that from gifs, but it can't be that scene because it's too early for a kis--TIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING! (I was right, it was too early for a kiss and Tol was Big Mad but bless you for going for it anyway, Tin).

The romance is balanced and rootable

And on that note, let me give a shoutout to the romance part of this story for actually feeling balanced. This is not an epic swoony love affair, but more a story of two people putting in the time to understand and empathize with each other. Sometimes in these kind of time loop stories the romance can end up feeling very one-sided because one character is holding all the knowledge and all the cards. But in this show we have the neat trick of Tol taking over the loop to try to save Tin in the final arc, which means he got to go through a similar process of getting to know the darkest version of his lover and figuring out how to get through to him. I was delighted by all the events of the long loop playing out again, but this time with Tin being the obstinate one. Tol got a taste of his own medicine and it left me feeling like they were both equally invested in this relationship.

TL;DR: If you haven't watched this yet, you really should! It's a fast binge and a great time with some Thai BL favorites. It's unfortunately still not available for international streaming, but it's very easy to find grey now and it's worth the effort. Go forth!

[tonguetiedraven]

Yukio requires a lot of critical reading from the get go

And if you're only starting that critical reading once Satan bums a ride in his eye, you're much too late.

He also requires a willingness to acknowledge that sometimes the character that annoys you has reasons even if you don't like them, and sometimes you're too biased about your favorite character and boy oh boy has Rin gotten caught up in this lack of critical engagement to. The story is more complex than victim and abuser and that simplification robs the story and Rin and Yukio of their richness and complexity.

This is going to be several parts and will be taking deep dives into some of the most important Yukio interactions that explain his story and character and beats that I think get often overlooked or misunderstood entirely. It will be entirely manga based because the animes take a fairly anti-yukio stance in several instances and seem to intentionally pick paths to mangle his character. The first anime mostly. But man did it do that to a lot of characters. None so badly as Yukio though.

It's fine to dislike the character, but darn it he deserves you at least disliking the real him.

Yukio Okumura is one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized people in Kato's world (if not the most misunderstood, though sometimes I think Rin should get that slot because man people will just not read any of his flaws or short comings.) By both sides of the arguments, typically.

He is an immensely complex character who is messy, depressed, armed to the teeth, suicidal, brilliant, exhausted, livid, abused, abusive, eternally rocking a customer service smile, aware of the world in a way most of his peers simply aren't, and not always sympathetic. He is a teenager who has to act like an adult, the twin brother (but more often babysitter) of Rin, and the boy who doesn't fit in anywhere.

Probably the most frequently disliked character in the anime/manga as well, which is amazing with the cast of vile human-experimentation committers we've got, and when Ernst Egin is just walking around in the anime sullying Yuri's last name and being an awful character.

In my last essay on Blue Exorcist, I stated that most people's characters misconceptions started with the Kyoto arc, but for Yukio, we're going to have to go back a bit further. We have to go back to chapter two.

Chapter two is Rin, who has figured out he's Satan's son and has sworn to become the greatest of exorcists to defeat Satan and knows nothing about exorcisms or defeating Satan or even Satan at this point, who hasn't figured out that Mephisto is a demon or that Yukio is an exorcist, has been told to hide his flames and to either hide the tail, ears, and fangs, or make up some kind of story about them that doesn't involve Satan and his flames, is trying to sit through the orientation and is only kind of going along with it at all because Rin, our main pov character, has the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel and the impulse control of one as well at this point of the story. It makes him a great character to read from because he kind of skips over any lore drops that would be dull and lets us, the reader who is clueless about this world, find out things as they're important.

We were introduced to Yukio in the previous chapter and found out that he was Rin's younger and more successful twin. That he wants to be a doctor and was heading to True Cross.

This chapter, as Rin is sitting at the orientation, we find out that Yukio is smart.

Yukio is smart. He is the representative for the entire class, and we will find out that he managed to get that rank and position while maintaining a side job as an exorcist. He beat out every other student in this rich school while having a side job and awareness of a secret world that only a small percentage of people know about. He is a remarkable and driven student who is almost always thinking several steps ahead of Rin, the character we're mostly viewing this manga through.

That is the easiest thing to forget about Yukio. He is almost always aware of things Rin is not and almost always thinking of a bigger picture or a different picture than Rin is. That does not mean he is always correct, but he is almost always working off a dataset that Rin is not even aware of the existence of. He is playing 3d and sometimes (4D chest when Mephisto is involved) and Rin is still grappling with the regular 2D chess rules. He has always lived in the world of demons and by all likelihood known about who/what Rin and himself are since he was very little. We don't know the exact age he was told the story, but we know he has known it for a long time.

Another very important thing to take from this section, and the main reason I'm posting these particular panels is because it tells us how Rin sees his little brother at this point. His first thought when he see Yukio excelling is that his younger brother was always a crybaby who needs protection and couldn't stand up for himself or his dreams.

Rin is stuck in this false perception of his twin. Even though he can acknowledge that his twin is really smart, he struggles greatly with accepting that fact and even more with ever listening to his twin because for most of his life, Yukio was a cry baby that got bullied a lot and needed someone to stick up for him.

Yukio was those things, and we know from Yukio's own mouth much later in the manga that Yukio despised being that way and still fears that he is that way. That he is weak and pathetic and can't be strong.

Rin goes off from this orientation with the determination that his twin will graduate, become a doctor, and never have to find out about demons and the dark side of the world, and he runs into Mephisto who transforms into a dog in front of him, and God Bless Rin's heart, he just kind of assumes that's a thing some exorcists can do and does not clue into the fact that Mephisto is a demon and will not until Mephisto flat out tells him it.

Rin misses a lot of things. He is not that smart of a character. He is a great character, and he has a fantastic heart and a lot of wonderful character development, but picking up on details and critical thinking are not his strong suits, so we can't always trust his view point.

Rin can be wrong and often is.

Rin goes into cram school, meets the rest of his class who awkwardly stares at him as he takes a seat at the front of the class with dogphisto and they wait for the teacher who turns out to be none other than Yukio Okumura.

Yukio Okumura who does in fact know about the demonic world. In fact:

Yukio has been an exorcist since he was thirteen.

Rin makes a scene, because of course he did. His twin just flipped his entire world upside down and now not only did Rin's adoptive father know a whole lot of things that he never told Rin, Rin's twin did too.

It is important to remember that Mephisto has dictated how Rin's entire day has gone at this point. Yukio's story is heavily tied with Mephisto's manipulation, and that is often over looked by readers of this story, and I cannot stress enough that Mephisto is manipulative. He has pushed and controlled most of the characters in this story and he has done a lot of manipulation, both subtle and blatant, of Rin and Yukio. From the times they meet to the lessons they learn to the money they earn to the place they live, Mephisto's hand is in EVERYTHING.

He was the reason they had little to no time to talk before the school day started and absolutely the reason Rin didn't know Yukio was teaching this class until the entire class knew Yukio was their teacher. Yukio was given Shirou's class to teach by Mephisto, and he has already been given very specific orders on how to treat Rin and what specifically to do. Shirou has also given Yukio very specific instructions on what to do with Rin and how to take care of him.

Anyway, Rin makes a scene but the lesson forges forward with Mephisto and Yukio explaining things to the class, Rin, and us the reader. We learn about temptaints and that their classroom is a goblin nest and Rin holds his opinions and questions in for a few seconds but busts and once again makes a scene.

Yukio tells him plainly that he's seen demons since he could crawl which clues us the audience (and Rin) in on the fact that Yukio has always known about demons. We also learn that he has been training since he was SEVEN. Yukio has spent more of his life training and being an exorcist than he hasn't.

He tells Rin that the only one that didn't know about demons (and their parentage) is Rin. This is obviously shocking, and traumatizing, and a really blunt and honestly mean way to tell Rin this. There are reasons for that we'll get to in a minute.

(This has got to be the most awkward of classes for the other students. I'd be dying of second hand embarrassment xD)

Rin grabs Yukio, the vial is dropped, and goblins start popping out of the ceiling, walls, and just everywhere. The first-day students are immediately overwhelmed because half of them still can't even see the demons, and Yukio immediately springs into action. He takes out the hobgoblins that are the biggest danger and ushers the vulnerable and ill-prepared students outside the room so he can properly exorcise it, maturely takes blame for the entire thing (even though it is easily his and Rin's fault) but Rin won't go out because a BIG part of Rin's character is pushing for immediate conversations when he's frustrated or mad.

It's a positive and negative trait of his. He refuses to wait on conversations when he wants to have them, but he also refuses to have a conversation at all if he doesn't want to. He seldom takes the other person's pov into view on these until much later in the manga after a lot of development, and he's not great at hearing the other person he's conversing with. He makes a lot of assumptions and puts them on the other person until they clarify in some way, if they do. This means that we the readers can be left assuming incorrectly if we're not paying attention.

Mostly posting that moment because Rin getting chewed on is hilarious and cute but also to point out that Yukio is basically choosing the path to most irritate Rin here. He's refusing to engage the conversation and basically treating Rin as a nuisance who is in his way while he's trying to solve a problem.

As a side not, Rin is very much in the way here. Yukio could quickly clear this up without Rin being a talkative demonic chew toy.

This talk is a vital one to understand the twins and their dynamic until after the Kraken arc. It is, I would say, one of the three most important twin moments until the Kraken arc. It is also one a lot of people don't take time with because they're (understandably!) upset about what Yukio is saying and how he's saying it, and how heartless it feels at first glance.

This conversation is entirely about Rin. Rin asks how Yukio feels about him and doesn't ask how Yukio feels in general. (That's not how these twins operate.)

It is heavily implied that Yukio was told that if Rin were to be unsealed, Rin would no longer be Rin. That he would become someone, something far different and dangerous. He would be violent and wild and evil and he would have to be put down. It is heavily implied that Yukio was taught by Shirou to try and guard Rin and keep him sealed at whatever cost, and if he was unsealed for some reason, it would be on his shoulders to take Rin out if Shirou couldn't do it himself.

Yukio calls Rin a fool and asks why he wants to be an exorcist. Does he want revenge? Or does he want to atone? If he wants to atone, then he should turn himself in as the son of Satan or just die.

Rin hears all that and asks Yukio if Yukio thinks he's to blame for Shirou's death. Yukio asks if he'd be wrong if he did. We also get this wild lore drop that becomes a big deal much later on in the manga but we don't really fully grasp at this point

Yukio knows. Yukio knows that Shirou has been possessed by Satan before and has been fighting him for fifteen long years and has never stopped being targeted.

Also I have to point out that Yukio just never stops shooting and killing the hobgoblins in this entire scene and Rin is on fire and whacking a few with his bagged sword but not really doing anything about them at this point.

The talk culminates in this moment.

This is a shocking moment. It sounds very much like Yukio does blame Rin and possibly should blame Rin, and more than that, as Rin is drowning in guilt and grief he won't let himself confront over Shirou, Yukio aims his gun at Rin and calls him 'big brother.'

"You killed father Fujimoto!"

Yukio says that to Rin, and Rin gets mad that Yukio is pointing his gun at him (can't confront the grief and guilt yet and won't except in pieces at our most broken spots until much much later) and charges at Yukio shouting at him to shoot--

And Yukio--

Doesn't.

I am positive at this moment Yukio broke his script and was indeed supposed to shoot Rin. Whether or not he was meant to, he doesn't.

Rin destroys the hobgoblin behind Yukio that was gearing up to tear into his little brother, and turns to look back at Yukio.

"Don't insult me. I'd never fight my little brother." (I think there's a lot that could be said about Rin not fighting him but the demon being all gun ho for it but that's an entirely different discussion)

Rin declares that while looking like a demon. He has the sword drawn so the demonic features are entirely there. The fangs, the ears, the eyes, the flames, everything.

Yukio looks forward and down again (we learn Mephisto is still here, because of course he is. He's directing this scene.) Yukio asks how Shirou was at the end. (I hear: "Was he brave? Was he still our dad?" in that question. "Did he become something else? Did Satan win in the end?"

The answer is no. Satan destroyed his body, but Shirou won.)

This. This is such an important moment so oft glanced over. The amount of times both these boys long to be strong and hate themselves for being weak and see the strength in the other or completely miss it, the essays that could be written on that know no ends.

And Yukio?

He smiles, It's not much, and it's laced with a heavy kind of sadness, but it's there and it's relieved and accepting. He tells Rin a powerful truth, one Rin doesn't understand the weight of at all, and one we the readers also don't get at this point, but he tells Rin that he also became an Exorcist to be strong.

They both take a moment to notice that the schoolroom is just wrecked to hell. The hobgoblins did a number and Rin's flames finished that number.

Yukio is warning Rin. Rin never thinks things through. He is an impulsive puppy who gets himself in situations and keeps charging forward, trampling things in an attempt to solve them again. He speaks without ever thinking and he acts with his emotions, which are why his flames are so often out of control. Yukio is warning him about all of that and that the harsh words he spoke will follow Rin from everyone if he pursues this path.

"Think it through," he's saying, "be sure."

Rin says bring it on and grins and calls Yukio teach and it's a cute moment.

THEN WE GET TO THE MOST IMPORTANT SCENE THAT THE ANIME CUT OUT

And why they did it I don't know and it makes me want to scream because it has made so many people miss so much about Yukio and Mephisto and the manipulative bastard Mephisto is. (That is said fondly and exasperatedly. I'd punch the hell out of Mephisto if I knew him in real life and I thoroughly enjoy reading about the bastard.)

This was a test. Mephisto is putting both twins to the test. Yukio is to keep an eye on Rin and make sure he stays Rin. That he doesn't become a rampaging demon and doesn't turn into a second blue night. (We the readers don't actually know what Satan did that was so terrible outside of, you know, killing Shirou and trying to take Rin to Gehenna but we'll find out more and more and more as the manga goes. Yukio already knows and has since he was at least seven. He has slept in the same room as Rin and known his twin was temporarily sealed in Kurikara and that if the seal broke, Rin could become an utter monster.

No one knew what Rin would be when the seal was broken and he had his heart again. They knew at the very least that the Vatican would want him dead, and that if he wasn't a feral monster, they'd have to hide him.

(And I for one would not want that responsibility. I love Rin and think he's a great character but he cannot listen to orders and has no sense of danger and consequences and the thought of trying to keep those flames and his mouth contained would make me crumble under anxiety and dread.)

Anyway, Yukio and Mephisto have very clearly been in talks and we'll see a few chapters later during a certain reaper attack that Mephisto has given Yukio orders about protecting Rin and being ready to take Rin out if he's at risk.

Yukio remembers as he's talking to Mephisto, and we see the moment the little seven year old started his training, and he's so small it hurts.

Also woah on the lore drop. What do you mean, Shirou? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?????

Anywho, Yukio is told he could protect Rin, and of course the boy who has always been bullied and frightened by things that aren't just humans would jump at the chance to protect his fearless big brother.

And thus, Yukio's fate is sealed and Mephisto moves a piece forward on the board.

The chapter ends with Rin going to his new dorm room in the old and abandoned dorm, and Yukio is there too. Their now roommates.

Before this moment, Yukio had a room in the nice dorm with his fellow students. He was actually Ryuuji's roommate, or he was going to be. Before he became a full time teacher on top of a full time exorcist and the top student. Now he is all of that and a full time babysitter directly responsible for protecting Rin, which essentially means not letting Rin's secret get out.

Now most people who watch or read this chapter take the argument at face value and leave it with a deep rooted feeling that Yukio was cruel and unfair. I'd remind those readers that Yukio came home to Shirou very very dead and Rin very very demon, and that Mephisto separated them and told Yukio to take a teaching position his very newly dead dad was meant to have. That Yukio had moved out to his own space apart from Rin for the first time in his life the day of his father's death, and the day he was supposed to start forging his new identity not revolving around Rin, his identity and life became even more tied to Rin.

Yukio is a character who has never gotten a life to live that was his own and free and has always been seen by those around him (and himself) as weak. He despises that and fears himself to still be the small crying boy who was terrified of the dark and needed his brother to protect him. From the very get go Kato lets us know that Yukio is smart and he is the one with all the responsibilities, and he is in direct conversations with Mephisto. He is placed in a position of authority over Rin, but Rin is not told this and will never accept Yukio being in a position of authority over him. That on the first day of his high school life, he agrees to take on the role Shirou had in both teaching and guarding Rin.

He threatens his brother but does not shoot him. He calls him a demon and brother. He accuses him of killing their father and asks what their father was like at the end. He tells his brother that 'just die' will follow him wherever he goes but calls them the same at the same time. He tells Rin to get control of his flames and then treats him like the rest of the students.

He tells a lot of half truths, but shares a vital one in trusting Rin to know that Yukio too thought himself weak. (Still thinks himself weak.)

Yukio is not one thing. He is a multitude of complex things and at this point, the reader is only just starting their journey with him, and there are far more dramatic and horrifying things awaiting him.

But that's the next part. For now, I ask that you take a second look at chapters you think are familiar, and for the love of critical reading, ask yourself what the other characters who are not Rin know and are thinking. The story is so much richer when you look at them all.

To keep seeing my updates on this and my other aoex analysis/thoughts, check out my #raven ramble tag

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Epilogue

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. Pregnancy mentions. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.1k

A/N : Don't scream too much. I'm sorry, okay?

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Master List

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER

“Do you regret it?”

The question broke through the silence and caused you to stir, opening your eyes so you could look up at him.

It was out of nowhere and, for a few seconds you almost allowed yourself to believe that you’d imagined it.

Billy still seemed to be reading - he’d been reading for at least an hour, sitting with you on the sofa in front of the crackling fireplace, a blanket covering your laps as you dozed against his side. It was the sort of afternoon you’d assumed only really existed in movies; quiet and still, just enjoying being close to each other without need for conversation or anything else.

But then came the question.

And, it was a strange thing to think about after everything that had happened, both in New York and, there, at the lake house. What was there to regret?

Sure, things had gotten off to a rocky start and, after getting to the lake, you’d spent the better part of a week worrying about him when he developed a fever, but you were together. It was just you and Billy, and that was all that really mattered.

“Regret what?” You finally asked, not really sure you wanted an answer.

Billy let out a slow breath, dog-earred the page he was on, and closed his book.

“All of this,” he answered, “leaving your life behind. Choosing me.”

You frowned and sat up a little straighter, pulling away from his side so you could look at him.

“Do you regret it?” You asked in return.

(Was that what he was trying to get at? Had he realised, after spending a month with you exclusively, that he didn’t want you anymore? Had the novelty finally worn off?)

“No - fuck, kitten, no,” he said emphatically. “I just - I don’t know. This last few weeks, getting to wake up next to you, spending whole days just holding you... I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop...”

“Why? I don’t understand, I thought... this is nice, isn’t it?” 

Were these new thoughts or had it been stuck in his head since you’d first arrived? 

A sense of panic slowly started to swell inside you, wondering if you’d thrown away what little life you’d had for nothing. Up until that moment, you’d been enjoying it, you’d grown to almost love the lake house; sitting in front of the fire with him, waking each other up with hands and lips, and drinking your morning coffee on the porch overlooking the water.

To you, it had felt like a little slice of heaven, like your life was finally getting better.

Billy’s hand found yours and he gave it a squeeze.

“This is nice. I’m just -” he sighed, “- it’s stupid.”

“What?” You prompted, needing to hear him give voice to whatever was troubling him so you could quiet your own panic.

“I’m not used to people staying,” he said softly, so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been sitting right next to him. “It’s been five months and you’re still here.”

You were silent, not sure what to say and not possessing the words to explain the feeling you got in your stomach every time you looked at him, the swarm of butterflies that would take flight whenever he smiled at you, whenever he kissed you. Your lips parted but no sound came out as the seconds ticked by.

He’d been abandoned by his own mother, he couldn’t remember how he’d lost his closest friend - all Billy knew was being alone, being left behind. In a lot of ways, he was just like you, except your isolation had been mostly self-inflicted.

“Oh, Billy,” you finally muttered, speaking just as softly as he had.

You reached for him, delicately framing his face with your hands. He stared into your eyes, watching you as you looked at him, as you saw through it all to the tragic and delicate man beneath the scars, the man who just wanted to be loved. The man that you wanted to love, even if neither of you had been able to bring yourselves to say the words since leaving New York City.

A few tender moments passed without words before you closed the distance and pressed your lips to his, softly and gently, lovingly. Your thumbs caressed his scarred cheeks and Billy didn’t flinch, didn’t tense. 

Every time you touched his face, you wanted to remind him that he was more than his scars, that he wasn’t the man who had been hurt, he wasn’t the man who deserved that pain. He was your Billy and he could leave all that darkness behind him in the past where it belonged, part of another life that no longer belonged to him.

His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his side, holding you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.

And he didn’t. He never wanted a day where you weren’t by his side.

When the kiss broke, you smiled at him.

“I won’t leave you, if you don’t leave me,” you said.

“Deal.”

He barely gave you time to think before his lips were on yours again, his kiss more insistent. You’d already fucked earlier that morning, but the moment he started to pull at your top, your hands found the hem of his sweater, not wanting to deny yourself another taste of him.

Somehow, as you pulled at each other's clothes, you ended up on the floor, on your back on the cream coloured shag-pile rug in front of the fireplace. When he’d first seen it, Billy had joked that it looked like something from a porno, as if he’d foreseen this moment.

You were breathless by the time he pulled his lips from yours and, once more, you found yourself getting lost in his dark eyes as he stared down at you, looking at you like he didn’t understand how you were even real.

“I love you,” he muttered tenderly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, finally saying the words again. “I’m glad you’re mine.”

There was no surprise when he started to slowly trail kisses down your neck and body, only anticipation. Billy was insatiable when it came to eating you out, and he seemed to enjoy it almost as much as the sex itself. And you certainly weren’t going to complain about it.

“Twice in one day?” You joked as he settled between your thighs, your hand reaching down to run fingers through his hair. 

“What can I say? I’m obsessed with your pussy,” Billy answered back with a smirk, running his fingers through your folds and causing your back to arch off the rug. “How can I resist when you’re already so wet for me?”

You bit your lip as he made a show of licking his fingers.

It had quickly become clear to you that you’d never really get over how much Billy seemed to want you, it would always leave you breathless and desperate, wanting more, wanting everything.

A loud moan torn from your lips as the heat of his mouth and tongue pressed against you. Billy groaned just as loudly, sounding like a starved man voraciously devouring his first meal in months.

Your fingers in his hair tightened their hold, pulling him closer, making it impossible for him to pull away (not that he had any intention of pulling away until he’d dragged at least one orgasm from you). All you could think about was his lips and tongue, the warmth of his mouth and the growing wetness between your legs. Every artful stroke and swipe caused you to writhe, working your hips against his face, grinding down against him.

How had you ever thought that you could live without this?

How had you ever thought you could live without him?

One of the best things about the lake house was the knowledge that you and Billy were the only people for miles, and there was no chance of anyone but him hearing the eager and needy sounds he managed to pull from you as his tongue flicked against your clit. 

It wasn’t long before you fell apart for him, your back bowing and your thighs trembling as you came. His name fell from your lips over and over as both a prayer and plea. And Billy didn’t stop. You’d come to learn that Billy rarely liked to stop at just one orgasm. He wanted to make you come again and again, as if he was partaking in some contest that you didn’t understand.

“Fuck,” you groaned as two fingers easily slipped inside you.

He didn’t even let the first orgasm peter out before he started to push you towards the next. With his fingers inside you, bending as they fucked you, his tongue focused on your throbbing clit, easily working you into a frenzy again. Your whole body trembled and shook, completely overwhelmed by Billy.

Looking down only made things worse, your body clenching around his fingers at the sight of his dark eyes staring up at you, drinking in the look of ecstasy on your face. You felt his lips pull into a smirk against you, obviously proud of himself.

(Grudgingly, even you had to admit that he had reason to be proud of himself, the man went down on you like it was an olympic sport and he was the reigning champion.) 

Your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm quickly overtook you. Your body felt like jelly, all uncontrollable tremors and shakes. You whined his name, this time begging for mercy, too sensitive to take much more. He’d created a slick and sloppy mess between your legs and you felt your cheeks warm when you wondered about the state of the shag rug beneath you.

What you didn’t expect was for Billy to let out a laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you from between your thighs.

“Can’t stop if you don’t let me go,” he muttered.

Every word, every brush of his lips against you, sent fresh sparks of arousal through you - fuck, would you ever have enough of him?

A second later, you let out a laugh of your own, unclenching your thighs and releasing your grip on his hair, allowing Billy to move back up your body.

“You enjoy that far too much,” he said.

“And you don’t?”

“I enjoy it just the right amount.”

Billy gave an amused hum. “Well you’re definitely going to enjoy what comes next.”

A breathless moan stole its way from your lips the moment he pressed his hips to yours, grinding his hard cock through your wet folds. His lips swallowed down the sound, kissing you deeply as he continued to tease the main event.

But, when he pulled back, you surprised him with a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing until the pair of you were rolled and you were on top of him.

Never in your life had you thought you’d be the sort of person to leave condoms on the coffee table but, after sharing a living space with Billy for little over a week, you’d come to realise just how insatiable his appetites were. Yours too, if you were honest.

Billy pouted as he always did when you reached for a condom and sat back to roll it down his length but he’d long since given up on trying to convince you to change your mind.

Then it was your turn to smirk down at him, his cock in your hand as you hovered above him. His hands ran up your thighs to your hips and held on, making no attempt to get you to move. When you did start to lower yourself, you moved slowly, savouring the feel of his cock slowly filling you.

His eyes closed and his head fell back once you’d taken all of him, your hips rocking as you took a moment to get comfortable. 

You didn’t fuck him. Despite that feeling inside of you that was desperate to lay claim to him, to make him tremble and writhe and moan for you, that part of you that wanted to bite and bruise to show that he was yours. Instead, you moved slowly, the rise and fall of your hips sensual rather than desperate.

You didn’t just want another orgasm. You wanted to make love to him. You wanted to make him fall apart for you in the rawest way.

One hand rested on his shoulder, while the other traversed his torso, mindful of wounds that had almost healed. So many marks and scars on one man, it didn’t seem far to you that he had had to endure so much pain and suffering, but it was that pain and suffering that had created the man beneath you. 

Billy - your Billy - had been forged in pain and violence.

And, now, you wanted to give him a life that was anything but.

His grip on your hips tightened, but he let you set the place, he let you love him and show him how you felt. The words were always clumsy and difficult, but this - this was something you could do.

“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good,” he moaned.

You’d come to love seeing him in those moments, so completely lost to you, so yours.

Leaning down, you kissed him, hips moving a little faster as you swallowed down his groans.

“Love you,” you muttered softly against his lips.

“Say it again.”

His hands on your hips started to pull, not much, just enough to show you that he wanted you to move a little faster, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“Love you, Billy.”

“Keep saying it.”

There was something so soft in the request, something that felt almost broken, like he still didn’t expect or believe that he deserved your love. So, you said it over and over, as many times as he needed to hear it, until his breath started to hitch and every exhale was punctuated by a moan.

Suddenly his hips lifted, driving his cock into you and catching you off-guard. You could tell by the way he was gritting his teeth that he was trying to hold back his own orgasm, waiting for you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him. Without hesitation, you took his hand and led his fingers to your clit and, less than thirty seconds later, your head was falling back as you came undone.

Billy gave a grunt and thrust up into you one more time before his cock started to pulse.

You collapsed on top of him, pressing your face to his neck while you caught your breath. Eventually you carefully rolled off him to lay at his side, holding him as he held you, both of you kept warm by the crackling fire despite the light snow falling outside

“I don’t regret this,” you told him softly after a few minutes. “It’s been strange and I know that we can’t just stay like this forever, but I want whatever comes next.”

A sigh slipped from his lips, a noise that sounded a lot like relief.

“We can go anywhere,” he said, smiling tenderly as he brushed your sweat-damp hair away from your face. “We can do anything - anything you want.”

You smiled, not having a thought or answer for him at that moment. You were just happy to be in his arms, enjoying the heat from his body at your front and the heat from the fire on your back.

“Do you regret not going after Frank?”

It had been the elephant in the room since you’d first arrived at the lake and, every day, you’d carried around the worry that he would decide to go back to the city to try and finish things.

Billy didn’t answer straight away, and you didn't want him to. You wanted him to think about it, to know what he really wanted.

“I did, to begin with,” he finally answered, “but after being here with you, just us, with none of that other shit… it's just not worth it. Frank, everything that happened, that's my past. You're my future.”

Billy reached for you, cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, backing up his words with actions.

“When I'm with you like this, I feel like…” for a moment he seemed to struggle to find the words, “I feel like this is what I always wanted; someone I could love and who'd love me.”

“That's all I want too,” you told him, a tender smile growing on your lips.

It was a sweet and gentle moment that you wanted to bask in for as long as you could but, unfortunately, Billy wanted to be a pragmatist. 

“We're gonna have to decide where we want to go from here. As much as I love it here, we're gonna burn through all the money if we stay.”

He was right, as nice as the lake house was, you were paying AirBnB prices and it would only get more expensive in the new year.

“We can figure it out over dinner,” you said. 

“You gonna cook for me again?” He asked, sounding almost eager.

You'd both become oddly domestic in the weeks since arriving, taking it in turns to cook for each other. Billy was a surprisingly good cook, and he seemed to enjoy the meals that you managed to throw together for him. You'd developed a certain kind of harmony that you'd never expected to find with a man like Billy.

And it all just made you love him more.

“I'll need to head to the store and see what I can find,” you muttered but showed no sign of wanting to leave his embrace.

A minute or so later, the fire gave a loud crackle and Billy sighed.

“I'll chop some more wood while you're at the store.”

“Don't overdo it,” you warned. “I don't want you to hurt yourself playing sexy lumberjack.”

“Sexy lumberjack?” Billy repeated, laughing. “Is that why you like watching me chop wood?”

You shrugged and stifled a laugh. “I can't help it if men chopping wood turns me on.”

Both of you descended into fits of laughter. Billy pulled your body against his, pressing playful kisses all over your face.

“So we’ll need to find somewhere with a fireplace?” He asked. “So I can keep being your sexy lumberjack?”

“And somewhere in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear how loud you get during sex,” you added.

You both started laughing again.

It stayed like that for a few minutes, both of you laughing, wrapped up in each other's arms but, as the time ticked by, you knew you’d have to move.

You pulled your clothes back on and kissed him goodbye before heading to the nearest grocery store, a twenty minute drive from the lake. Since arriving, you’d been the one to do all of the shopping, not wanting Billy to overexert himself or for anyone to recognise him - though you were hoping the fanfare had died down since you’d left the city. 

You took your time as you wheeled the cart around the store, stopping to check anything that caught your fancy. It was strange, knowing that you didn’t have to worry about money or keep a running tally in your head of how much everything would cost so you didn’t overspend. Thanks to Billy’s money and the money you’d managed to stash away over the last year or so, for the time being, you were comfortable.

Stopping in front of the butcher’s counter, you idly glanced over the selection before settling on a couple of steaks, knowing how much Billy liked it. Then you went off to find some carrots and baby potatoes.

It was strange, the sort of things that you’d come to learn about him while living with him, things you probably should have learned well before all of his darkest secrets, like his favourite food and the fact he loved to read. But, the order of events has worked for the both of you, in fact you were certain it was what had brought you both together in the first place.

There were still some doubts in your mind about what he’d done and the person that he used to be, but there was no question about who he was now. Your Billy. It didn’t matter so much to you what he had done but, rather, what he was going to do and who he was going to be with you. And, so far, he’d shown that he wanted to be nothing but attentive and loving. 

In return, you wanted to be the same for him.

Both of you had spent your lives lost and searching, and now you had each other.

On the toiletries aisle you stopped, knowing that you needed condoms, and that you’d probably need some period products.

Only -

You started to do the maths in your head, trying to figure out when your last period had been.

Fuck.

In the insanity of the last few weeks, you hadn’t realised just how late you were. Over three weeks. 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you’d never been all that regular and your periods had caused you problems in the past, but you’d never been three weeks late before.

Your stomach threatened to turn itself inside out as you thought back to that morning in your bed, the first and only time you’d let him fuck you without protection. You’d planned to get the morning after pill before heading to the bar that night but, instead... well, everything else had happened and it had slipped your mind entirely.

No… no, you couldn’t be pregnant. 

Though, you had been feeling tired recently and perhaps a little more emotional than usual. But, surely that was just because of Billy and everything that you’d been through.

No. You forced a breath and decided not to worry about it. You were probably just panicking over nothing and there was no point losing your mind until you knew for sure. So, quickly, you grabbed a pregnancy test, a box of condoms and some tampons, covering all of your bases. Then you headed for the check out, only stopping once on the way to grab the biggest bar of chocolate you could find.

Billy was sitting on the porch reading and nursing a hot mug of coffee when you arrived back at the lake house, though he quickly got to his feet to help you unpack the groceries. It made you feel an awkward pang of longing, the thought of coming home to him, being welcomed back with open arms. You felt like a family already and you didn’t want anything to ruin it.

You made sure to grab the bag with the pregnancy test before Billy could, your cheeks warming just at the thought of him seeing it and jumping to the same conclusion that you had.

Racing upstairs, you hid it away in the bathroom for later that evening, too tense to even consider using the test then. Your excuse was that it was nearly dinner time and you’d promised Billy that you would cook.

He was waiting for you in the kitchen, diligently putting the groceries away but he stopped when he saw you, looking at you for a moment. Your heart almost stopped and you found yourself wondering if he could tell you were hiding something just from looking at you. His expression softened and he stepped forwards, gathering you up in his arms.

“You look tired,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “D’you want me to cook tonight?”

Your heart stuttered at the gesture, at how soft his voice was, the care in his tone. It was almost enough to make you blurt out what you suspected because the idea of hiding it from him just made you feel even worse.

“I’m fine, might get an early night after dinner though, ”you shrugged. “But, if you want to help, you can cut the veg while I cook the steaks?”

Of course, Billy agreed and the pair of you started to move around the kitchen like you had so many times before, seeming so in sync with each other.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Billy asked and, again, your stomach tied itself in knots.

“No... not tonight.”

He didn’t question it but it felt like yet another layer to your potential deception, but you tried desperately to force the thought away. You didn’t know for sure, so it wasn’t as if you were deliberately lying to him. The chances were, you tried to reassure yourself, you were just worrying over nothing.

Once the steaks were in the pan, Billy came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you, resting a hand on your stomach. 

How many times had you stood together like that? How many times had his hands or lips ghosted over your stomach?

More thoughts you were eager to try and push away.

Finally, you sat down together at the little dining table, next to a window that overlooked the water. It looked so pretty at night, the water reflecting the stars, while the snow slowly started to blanket the ground. 

You found yourself staring out, wishing that you could stay, wishing that nothing had to change.

But things did change, it was inevitable.

“Are you okay?” Billy asked, halfway through his meal. “You’ve been quiet since you got back.”

“I’m fine, really,” you told him. “I was just thinking about the future.”

“What about it?” 

“About where we’ll end up and what our lives will look like,” you shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I never really thought about having anything like this. I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life moving from place to place, trying to escape from my past.”

He gave an understanding nod. He knew better than most what you meant and how you felt, he’d already told you as much.

“What do you want our lives to look like?” He asked, his attention leaving his dinner and focusing entirely on you.

You were silent for a few, long moments, trying to think of an answer that was honest and that made sense.

“I... I guess I want things to be like this, for us to be like we are here,” you said, not sure it even made sense. “Promise me that nothing will change that. Promise me that you’ll always want me the way you do now?”

There was a flicker of confusion on his face and, for a moment, you thought you might have given yourself away.

“Kitten, nothing is ever going to change the way I feel about you. I’ll always want you. I’ll always love you,” he told you. “For as long as you want me, I’ll love you.”

“I’ll always want you,” you said back to him instantly, not wanting him to question your feelings for even a moment. “Even if things... change, I’ll still always want you. I just... I don’t want you to think that I ever don’t -”

“Where is all this coming from?” He asked.

“I - I don’t know. I just -” you struggled to find the words to express what you were feeling, still not wanting to tell him what you were worried about, “- I feel like things are gonna change when we leave here. This has felt almost like a perfect vacation, but I don’t want us to stop feeling like this when we have to go back to living real lives, y’know?”

“I get it,” he said, reaching across and taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “but don’t worry, nothing's gonna change. We can have a life like this, just me and you.”

You returned to eating and, despite your earlier suggestion that you plan your next move over dinner, he didn’t bring up leaving the lake house. It was as if he could sense you were struggling with the idea of change and he didn’t want to bring it up and make you more uncomfortable. 

Together, you washed the dishes, the perfect picture of domestic bliss; him at the sink while you stood at his side drying. Really, you should have known that things couldn’t stay so saccharine and simple, but you’d allowed yourself to get swept up in Billy and the fairytale ending you’d tried to create with him.

“I’m gonna have a shower and get into bed,” you told him, lightly kissing him on the cheek..

“Want me to come get your back?” He asked, smirking that smirk that could only mean one thing.

You swatted his chest lightly before giving him a gentle push.

“You can snuggle me in bed when I’m done,” you told him, managing a smile despite your nerves. “I think I’ve had more than enough orgasms for one day.”

Billy looked genuinely offended and confused by the thought, but he let you slip away from him and up the stairs without further comment.

And, of course, you put off taking the test.

You took a long shower, washed your hair and shaved your legs, then afterwards you lathered yourself in moisturiser and put on a face mask. Anything to forestall the inevitable. The longer you left it, the easier it seemed to convince yourself that it wasn’t happening, that it couldn’t possibly happen.

But, finally, you knew you had to do it.

You peed on the stick and set the timer on your phone before shutting your eyes tight, trying to picture a future where you and Billy really were a family. You imagined holding a child in your arms, a perfect mix of you and Billy, and you tried to imagine Billy’s face at seeing his child for the first time. You’d both suffered through such terrible childhoods, you’d both been hurt so much - but surely that meant you could do things better, you could get it right?

If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be like your mother, you wouldn’t put your needs and wants first. And, unlike Billy’s mother, you’d never give the child or Billy up.

You’d do better. And you were hopeful that he would too.

But, despite that glimmer of hope inside you, there was still a healthy dose of fear; you didn’t even know whether Billy wanted kids, or how you were going to tell him if the test turned out to be positive. 

You grasped the test in your hand, eyes squeezed shut, until the timer on your phone started to beep. 

Then, you looked down...

End Note : I know, I know... it was a mean place to end it but, even though this hasn't been the most popular of stories I do fully intend on writing a second part to this (I know I say that every time, but with this one I do have a fairly solid idea of what I'd like to happen in the next part). I've had a lot of fun writing this, I know it's been a bit different from my other fics and I know a lot of the romance aspects have fallen into something of a grey area, but I kind of like playing with the idea of reader knowing that Billy has done horrible things but not wanting to hold the man he is now responsible for things he can't even remember doing - honestly, in her position, I couldn't say I'd do the same, but it made writing the story fun for me.

Also sorry if the TWs at the start spoiled the twist, I never know what do put in TWs but I'd rather be safe than sorry on tumblr.

Anyway, thank you so much for the love and support you've shown this fic. It really always means so much to me when anyone takes a little bit of time out of their day to read something I've created. You've all been wonderful, and I look forward to sharing my next Billy fic with you soon.

On that note, as I've said a couple of times now, the rest of December is going to be a chill month for me. I do have a little mini-series I want to try and post, and maybe a couple of one-shots, but I don't know when any of that will happen. (Probably still on fridays, but maybe not, I don't know.) Later in the month I'm going to put up another poll for my next fic.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful weekend.

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl @lincerad

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@everything015 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @notallthatglittersisgoldx

[gicosmo]

ABIGAIL HATE IS SO FORCED IN THE RDR2 COMMUNITY‼️

All this Abigail hate is insane. This woman is getting hate for being a mother and wanting a normal life💀

Like let’s be so fr. If you were in Abigail’s position you would probably leave John too. This poor woman was abandoned by John for a year. John refused to be a proper father for Jack(also, Abigail isn’t “nagging” for asking John to be a parent.). Jack gets KIDNAPPED(This isn’t John’s fault. This is still very traumatic.). And then her breaking point was a day where John and Jack were supposed to have a nice bonding moment, but that ended up being a terrifying experience for him. JACK COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT OR WORSE, KILLED. At that point, Abigail feared for Jack’s life. Poor kid had already been through too much. Any sane parent would leave if they saw a reoccurring pattern of their child being in constant danger.

Also the whole made up lie that fans came up about Abigail cheating is insane??? Her suddenly working a normal cleaning job is cheating?💀Abigail haters are so quick to accuse her of cheating yet ignore John’s interaction with Karen at camp🤠

John is NOT a saint😭Abigail haters try to paint him as the victim of the relationship but he’s genuinely awful to Abigail in the game. HE LITERALLY ACKNOWLEDGES IT IN THE MAIN STORY WHILE TALKING WITH ARTHUR. But he has his redemption, which is the whole point of the game.

John and Abigail are both great characters‼️It’s weird how people love and do deep dives into complex male characters, but complex female characters are often overlooked/hated on.

[verdantwyrm]

I read your ‘Curly is not an abuser’ post over on twitter and started crying. My thoughts were “f@cking finally, someone who might’ve gotten it,” because the main reason I was crying was because I deeply relate to Curly in some ways. With how everyone was saying ‘Curly is an Abuser!’ ‘Curly is a bad person!’ I started to feel about bit bad about myself because of that.

We both have a hard time getting the underlined meaning of things or hints, whether it’s in story, talked about, or shown. We don’t see it until someone quite literally points it out to us or just start talking about the hidden meaning. I also believe me and Curly are too trusting or lax in some ways. Like not being able to see the bad in people we are close to or talk often with. We might even know about some of the bad qualities beforehand and can still be strung along and be play like an instrument. I also believe that Curly with even a thought of abusing anyone would throw himself before doing. He might even throw himself faster if he actually did that, accident or not.

That is not to say Curly is completely innocent or not to be blamed at all. Those qualities I stated before, while good, are a double edged sword like any other qualities. If we are not careful with them we could end up hurting people around us or ourselves, or get into a big mess of things. That is what Curly should be hold accounted for. Even than, with how people make out to be an abuser I don’t think they can reasonably hold him accountable in the right way, and I am not sure if that makes me sadder.

I totally get where you're coming from Anon. That kind of attitude, being lax, trusting and a constant mediator isn't inherently a problem. It was the circumstances that turned that so volatile. If Jimmy wasn't who he was and so readily abusive then Curly's character would not be that detrimental, and his actions would not have such a catastrophic impact. And everyone immediately boiling down those harmless traits and villainising them does much more harm than good, especially since the character they should be targeting is Jimmy, not Curly.

Looking at it through Curly's eyes he was just doing the best he could in that situation, and it's even more understandable especially with exactly what he does. He tries to completely bubble Jimmy into this sense of just him and Curly, he makes no mention of anyone else, nothing else. He grounds him, "It's just us" or "we will figure it out", this is fawning. He's appealing to the perpetrator to reduce the fallout in any way. Which is definitely something he has done previously as mentioned in the How Fish Is Made DLC and Curly's little monologue about how it's just another trip, just until he gets what he needs, that he has big plans!

This is definitely something Curly used on Jimmy, and even more with how quickly he shuts down at the birthday party he is used to this, and Jimmy has been abusing him for a very long time. Long enough to put the seeds of doubt in Curly to not make him question or argue against his treatment.

And you're right about Curly throwing himself infront of everyone because he does it literally. The most important part that everybody overlooks is how determined he is to get to the cockpit as the ship is crashing. He knows its crashing but all he can do is try, he could have ran away, but he didn't. And again with how after Anya tells Jimmy about her pregnancy, Curly says that she should have waited for him because he wanted to be there just in case.

Curly took responsibility multiple different times that is easily overlooked because so much happens in such a short time span that people literally think he had months between knowing about Anya being raped and then the crash when it was barely a day. Just like how people easily overlook the dead pixel scene and how it also represents something to Curly as well, and just like how people overlook Anya's "I told you so"

This game is multifaceted with the biggest, main issue of all being Pony Express' negligence and abuse towards their employees which then weakens the vulnerable and enables people like Jimmy. It happens all the time in real life absolutely everywhere. All of this could have been entirely avoided if they weren't neglecting the safety of their most vulnerable and had actual locks on the doors.

Curly's kind, forgiving and trusting nature is not inherently bad. It was how it was used against him in an extremely difficult situation, which is exactly what Abusers do time and time again. He failed Anya in such a delicate way and in such a difficult situation, but its something to understand that Pony Express failed her first, failed her in all the most important ways by even allowing a situation like this to happen. It was Jimmy's responsibility to not be a rapist, but it was Pony Express for even enabling that in the first place.

[queeraliensposts]

I've seen people calling Aiden Thomas a transmed author (mostly cause some transmeds like to claim his books), but if you followed Aiden Thomas on social media you'll see this not the case, also I think the reason why a lot of white transmeds resonate with his novels like Cemetery Boys and The Sunbearer Trials, has nothing to do with Aiden Thomas's writing and more to do with the fact that Aiden Thomas writes stories about LATINO trans men, and for a lot of white transmascs the message went way over their head.

In my own personal experience as a latino trans guy I relate much more to Aiden Thomas's work then to most other transmasc authors, because Aiden knows that it's a lot easier for us to internalize those toxic ideas of gender. Toxic masculinity is prevalent in latine culture it has it's own damm name "machismo". Therefore it's a lot harder for us to come to the realization that there's nothing wrong with our bodies and the problem stems from the way society views them. To add to that just as toxic masculinity is so over enforced in latine culture so is toxic feminity, so many of us feel the need to present very femininely before we finally decide to start presenting as ourselves. So once we actually come out and start presenting as male we try to compensate for that. On top of that growing up latine and afab means you and your body gets sexualized a lot more often. Mostly by the white supremacist stereotype of the curvy spicy Latina.

With all of that I can easily explain why when I read The Witch King, a novel about a white trans guy, when Wyatt said that he doesn't have a problem with his body and it was the way that people saw him as female, I personally couldn't relate.

But now going on the the actual content of Aiden Thomas's work (I will only be touching on Cemetery Boys because I haven't finished the Sunbearer Trials 😅).

Yadriel starts the novel with a lot of internalized transphobia which he's not even aware of. This is because at this point, he is the only queer person he knows, and he's surrounded by people who see him as different for who he is. It's not until he meets Julian, another queer person who has interacted with many other queer people. It's not until Yadriel starts talking to Julian and his friends that he starts realizing that everything he was taught about what it means to be a man is bullshit by the end of the book while I'm sure Yadriel hasn't 100% gotten over his internalized transphobia, he set on a path to unlearn it.

Aiden Thomas isn't a transmed author he just writes about the trans experience from a perspective that is often overlooked.

Closing off I would like to set the record cause as a latino trans author that's currently working on a novel about a latino trans boy mc. For any transmeds who wanna claim my work, it's not for you.