#I knew he was gay early on

[antiparticular]

hello???? looking at the bracelet after that ?? gayass.

[statementlou]

hello :) could you maybe explain a little bit how dan wootton blackmailed louis?

ugh sorry for taking a while to get to this. The problem is I feel like the only two ways to answer this are by spending a week and a half of full time labor sifting through old posts and evidence to get every detail right and lay out an airtight case, or to halfass something very serious, and so I felt a little stuck. So since I can't seem to find a good halfway point, apologies but here is the half assed version, if you want to get into it more I invite you to do your own deep dive or talk to other people, but here's how I remember things. Louis has almost never on video explicitly said things about Larry not being real and/or anything negative about fans and their theories (mostly the opposite), up until the last couple years when he obviously decided to make a major change he didn't talk about Freddie much at all let alone saying he was his kid, honestly not that much about Eleanor even; except for in two major interviews with Dan Wootton, each of which lined up with a serious traumatic Tomlinson family event that they managed to keep out of the tabloids until the very end (Jay's illness and Fizzy's struggles with substance abuse). After the fact of those events a lot of small things that didn't make sense at the time came together to look very much like Louis traded those interviews (and those answers) for having his family's private matters kept private. Story trading of this kind is a publicly known real thing that happens, and there were various clues that suggested he was being leaned on about those stories to lend legitimacy to the idea that it was something that happened in these cases. Given what we know about Dan Wootton and how he operates even before the recent flood of information and even more now, I think it's more than likely that he has been holding the threat of outing Louis (as he has done to many other public figures) over his head for over a decade, and has used his family's tragic struggles to get Louis to dance like a fucking puppet for him and I will REJOICE at his downfall when it comes whether it is now or 20 years from now... because someday it will, he has made too many enemies to stay above it forever

[97tears]

there’s like a surprising amount of thomas no shinzou academic essays but one thing i don’t agree about is that they all say juli has some form of internalized homophobia. simply not true

[camellcat]

I can't stop thinking about trans masc spike. I don't know what fucking worms in my brain are causing this but ever since that article I read about genderqueer spike I can't. I can't watch school hard and not think about it. he comes into frame and I can see the article all over again like an afterimage burned onto the screen. ftm spike. drusilla don't gaf she already knew before he did. do you think angelus uses his correct pronouns

[aromanticasterisms]

read through alien space for star rail context and every frame himeko's in you can faintly hear me in the bg trying hard not to think about how much she looks like diluc

[mikurulucky]

About the ending of The Troubadours of Roc-a-Pic...

I know Maximin's dad wanted to give him a reward for resisting his anger and Guillemette a reward for saving his ass, but after reading this one again for the first time since high school, I initially refused to believe that they just got married right then and there. They hardly interacted afaik. Idk it just seems kinda rushed at the time.

But eh, arranged marriages weren't unheard of in the middle ages anyway. Even if neither of them like each other in that way, at least they'll have heirs. I'm betting they were both like "Aw nice, I get to live with my best friend!"

Can't really see the marriage being very romantically fulfilling for them tho unless one or both of them are somewhere on the ace spectrum. But I guess after thinking about it, I can kinda see how it would be likely to happen considering the time period. Duke gets his heir back, and now there will be ANOTHER future heir to the dukedom. Guess it's a win win as far as inheritance is concerned ig. :/

[neige-leblanche]

yeah it was kinda wack trying to listen to chinese pop and disliking almost everything i found then discovering a couple chinese rock & metal artists and loving them. bc i thought i was just as much of a pop person as i was a rock person if not more but ig thats only the case when i can understand all of the lyrics :0

[thedevilsrain]

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[t4tmetalsonic]

Yes. I'm aroace myself.

You will also notice that nowhere did I say in this post that he wasn't ace. I literally just said he fucks. However no I don't think he's ace and that's not out of aphobia

in light of recent events

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not complaining about my sex/love life?

A bit nsfw. I'll try to keep it vague.

So I (31FTM) came out and transitioned about 5 years ago. My husband (34, cis M) and I were married beforehand. He was extremely relieved, as he had realized he was gay and didn't know how to tell me. It's like a fairy tale if Disney thought we were marketable 💜 just a bit of context to what happened next.

I have a group of friends, straight cis women my age, who knew me pretransition. They were relatively supportive, minus a few confused questions and a couple of comments early on about how hard it was to remember my name.

I was out to brunch with 3 of them (K, S, L, all early 30s/late 20s). L is engaged, S recently got serious with a guy, and K is perpetually single.

We were all chatting and eventually got on the topic of romance. S was complaining that her boyfriend never did the dishes. L laughed and said she had to essentially train her fiance to do certain household chores. K piped up with some sort of "men are the worst" comment, which I just sort of ignored, until she turned to me and said "So what gets on your nerves about YOUR husband, OP?"

I shrugged and said that sometimes he leaves his socks on the floor, but that's about it. K rolled her eyes and said there had to be SOMETHING that pissed me off about him, like "he's bad in bed or doesn't listen to you." I snapped a little and told her that no, actually, I don't care what you say about your partners but mine is actually really great, and I love him. He's great in bed, he's very caring and passionate, he listens to me all the time, and I won't be convinced to shittalk him.

It got quiet and I just decided to leave cash for my part of the bill and leave. I went home to snuggle into my husband's arms on the couch and tell him what happened. He just laughed and said I could shittalk him if I wanted. I don't think he really got why I was so upset.

That afternoon, K texted me and said I really embarrassed her in front of everyone and wanted me to apologize for what I said. I refused and told her that I wasn't gonna apologize because she assumed I didn't like my husband and I corrected her. She called me a bitch and went radio silent. I texted S and L and asked them if they were okay, no response yet.

My husband thinks I should just apologize, but I don't want to say sorry for refusing to talk badly about someone who supported me during one of the hardest times of my life, even if he'd be fine with it. It just makes me feel wrong.

AITA?

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[bunny-jpeg]

baby fever

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy, filthy, husband!price, slight age gap (reader is early 20s, price late 30s), military formal wear, oral (m receiving), doggy style, unprotected

bunny says: i thought about built/chubby price and him in his military formals and my brain turned off. this was the end result.

price wasn't beating the bear allegations. while he wasn't a gay bear, he knew that there were a lot of women who loved his physique. dusting of hair, built but enjoyed a good sunday roast. thick fingers and broad tongue. he was a built man after his years of service.

but if price had to pin you as an animal, it would be his little chickadee. small and fragile with a cute little song. the most loveliest thing he had ever laid his eyes on. no wonder within a year of dating, you were already engaged.

price knew when he had a good thing going and didn't want to ruin it. you were still in university, but he'd never make his darling girl quit school for his sake.

"'ey, love." he said as he walked past you on your laptop. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, "studyin' well?"

you looked over and smiled at him, "of course, big bear." you took him by the face and kissed him on the cheek. your engagement ring gleamed in the light of the living room.

but even the brightest university students could easily crumble against a man like price. it didn't help that there was a spike in your baby fever. it was almost embarrassing when you watched price in the living room, shining his uniform boots. it also didn't help when he was making sure that formal attire still fit.

he noticed you staring, you didn't try to hide it.

he stood there in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom. the beret, the jacket, the medals. hands on his hips as he looked at you. he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the sight of your jaw almost on the floor.

"tryin' to see if everythin' still fit. need to go back to the gym, your cookin' is gonna be the death of me, love." he chuckled. he dragged his tongue across his top teeth and said, "now that i know, why don't ya help me get out of it."

maybe a man in uniform was your (not-so) secret kink. you've seen him in everything under the sun, but every time it still made your throat dry. you were in your sunday pajamas, paired with fuzzy slippers.

he reached out for you, "ya like when i'm dressed like this, huh?" he chuckled as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of your head.

"i mean." you said, "you look good." you blushed a little bit more and looked away from him, but he took you by the chin to look at him. those blue eyes peered into yours.

"don't be shy, love." he said, "i like when ya stare."

you held onto the front of his jacket, the thick material felt heavy in your grasp. you could feel the wetness between your legs. damn price. you said, "you look good, big bear."

he reached down and took a handful of your ass, "and you look even better, my chickadee. now c'mon, undress yer man." then licked his top lip at the sight of your delicate hands trying to undo the formal jacket. he then took you by the head again and said, "pants first." then helped you onto your knees.

you swallowed and looked up at him. if anyone looked inside, they'd see a weird power dynamic. but all price saw was an eager little birdie trying to get her hands on her husband.

"those medals look nice." you said as he reached for his belt.

he chuckled, "not as nice as your lips on my cock." then dragged a hand through your hair. the belt soon came off as his pants were unzipped. he was thankful that he knew how to get any stains out of his uniform, because he knew you were a messy girl.

you took his cock out of his slacks. it stood was full attention and even after all this time together, the sight of it was still arousing. cut, thick, a deep pink (not quite red) and almost eight inches in length. you once joked it was a "porno dick".

you kissed the underside of it with such warmth that it made the man shudder. then started the slow, small licks against the shaft. you chuckled to yourself at the feeling of his cock under your tongue. he felt like a dream.

"that's a good girl. my darlin' girl." he said with a hint of pride in his voice. he loved the sight of you on his knees. even if the sweat down his back was making the heavy jacket more uncomfortable.

you stroked the base of his cock with one hand while you put your mouth fully on the tip. you teased it with wet strokes of you tongue. you could hear the gruff noise your husband made.

you squirmed a little while on your knees and could feel a dull throb between your legs. price's cock was an impressive sight and a task to fully get in your mouth.

"ya got a small mouth, love.' he remarked jokingly, "too small for all of this. but i know you'll do your best.' he combed his fingers through your hair once more before it rested on the back of your head.

he supported your head while you continued to orally pleasure him. he loved his woman on her knees in front of him. while he held you in high regard, he thought you were the sweetest things since strawberries on cake, but there was something about seeing HIS woman like this.

you looked up at him and a groan got caught in his throat. you gave him a cute little wink before you continued to stroke him off. your other hand was on his strong thigh for support as you pleasured him.

"oh sweet fuck." he groaned.

you knew you'd never take all of him in your throat but you made the most of what you could. his cock was heavy in your mouth as you continued to move your head.

he gripped the back of your head, he felt hot all over as pleasure pumped through his veins. he loved his girl, his darling sweet angel. yeah the age difference was to raise an eyebrow at. but if they knew the angel he managed to get a ring on, they'd understand.

his little chickadee.

you looked up at him once more. the way he looked down at you with a guiding hand on the back of your head. you pulled your mouth off his cock and looked up at him with your tongue out of your mouth.

"fuckin' doll eyes." he said, "get back to what you were doin', i want to see you take every last drop."

you once again went back to orally pleasuring him. your hand dug into the meat of his thigh as you tried to take more of his cock in your throat. the noises that came from your husband made your core ache.

the bright pink in his cheeks made you smile as he messed up with hair with his broad hands. he felt so big next to you. his little precious wife doing everything in her power to get him off.

with a few more thrusts of your head with his cock nudging the back of your throat. you moved to keep the tip against your tongue as he came down your throat. you didn't want to choke on his cum but you savored every last salty drop.

maybe a man in uniform did things to you.

when you pulled away, you looked up at him. "i want you, john." you said as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand, "i want to have your babies." the baby fever was thrumming in your veins, "fuck me, big bear."

he raised an eyebrow, "babies, huh? i thought you wanted to be a working woman." he said cheekily.

you rose to your feet, your legs were shaky as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform jacket and kissed him deeply. you almost toppled over him but he held you by the middle for support. when you pulled away, you panted as you said, "breed me price, or i'll find someone else to do it."

his expression darkened, "don't be sayin' things like that, love." he pulled you close to him. his cock was still hard between you two, "you better not run off with some runt." he kissed your heated cheek, "now face down, ass up, chickadee."

you pulled away from him and turned towards the bed. you shredded your clothes and almost threw yourself onto the large mattress. your face against the pillow with your back arched and hips raised.

you felt the bed sink soon after with your husband's large hands on your hips and his cock rested against your ass.

"your uniform." you squeaked.

"i'll iron it tonight." he replied, "right now, my darlin' girl needs her pussy fucked." his vulgar language made a shiver run through you.

when he bottomed out into your pussy, you felt the air escape your lungs. you clutched onto the pillow. he got a perfect view of your backside, his gaze felt hungry against you.

"please."

"my darlin' girl." price said softly. he leaned in and kissed you on the shoulder. you felt like a tight heat around him. "my beautiful wife." price adored that you were his wife. that you decided to marry him, now he got to feel up your beautiful figure every moment.

"god, john." you moaned, "was it always this damn big?"

he chuckled lowly, "you make me hard, love. i see ya and i just go wild." he then started to kiss at your shoulders and neck.

you held onto the pillow and panted in the pillows. you felt the sweat at your back as you were fucked. you panted into the fabric and felt your husband thrust into you.

"sweeter than jam and more fuckable than a toy." he chuckled lowly as he began to pick up the pace. he could feel your heat under him, you were a dream in his eyes.

the precious wife to be a beloved captain, almost twenty years her senior. the bed creaked under your movements and the sweet sounds of your sex filled the air. it was also joined by your sweet noises that encouraged your husband to keep fucking you.

you felt hot all over as the man fucked you. the pleasure rolled through your body as you moved against the bed. you panted and moaned into the pillow and let your husband thrust into you.

"my sweet girl." he purred.

"please, john." you whined.

the sex between you two felt hot, like you were on a knife's edge as he rutted against you. you could feel the heat pool in your gut as he moved against you. sweat clung to your chest and neck. your hair stuck against your skin.

"that's it." he murmured. his cock throbbed inside of you.

your love making continued, you pushed the hair out of your eyes the more he fucked you from behind. your hands were deep in the pillow as you moaned into the fabric.

price loved the sight of you. he just thought that you looked amazing, HIS girl was like this under him. he was your big strong bear and he loved the sight of you under him. just a dream to him. his heat raced in his hairy chest as he placed more weight on you.

"shit, john." you groaned.

"I got ya. i'll be finishin' in ya soon. give ya all the babes you want." he chuckled as he kissed your heated cheek. his thrusts were quick and made you see stars behind your lids.

you were heated all over and your head was swimming. you panted wildly into the bed and with a few more strokes of his cock, you came around him.

price groaned at intense heat around his cock. he went as fast as he could and felt the sweat down his toned back. he pressed himself further into you and finished.

his cum shot to the back of your cunt and you let out a pleased noise. his pace slowed down until he stopped and pulled out. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his hairy chest, "how's that, love?"

you laid fully flat on the bed and nodded your head, "we're going to have to keep goin' though, big bear. you've done so much damage to yourself that your swimmers aren't as strong as they used to be." so you rolled onto your back and reached for him, "c'mon. fuck me again."

he chuckled as he leaned back on his heels and stroked his cock, "of course chickadee. anythin' for ya."

[misanthropiczombie]

Watching an AIDS documentary at work as though being in this building isn't depressing enough.

[tan1shere]

Make You

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: first fic for my lil kinktober ... tanntober? No that's stupid everyone else's sounds cute mine sounds busted 🥰 anyways PLEASE ENJOY 😈

Summary: you hated eachother.. so it seemed.

Warnings: smut, hate sex ?, bondage, rough Billie, fingering.

Masterlist - Halloween ML

I hate you...

Yeah. Turns me on

You were really good friends with Finneas and Claudia. So you were around quite a bit. And tonight was another small party at theirs, they'd often have a tiny one with the friend group plus some others. So you ofcourse knew Billie. Did you two get along? Nope, and here's why.

For some reason when you first became friends with them Billie was iffy about you. You had become friends with Claudia first, then Finneas. And suddenly you were around all the time. You were always so kind with everyone, and it seemed to bother her. She actually had no idea why she didn't like you she just didn't. Then you'd get brought up by one of them, and that started to bug her.

She was working with Finneas on some music, they were taking a break. "Y/n took this cute photo of peaches last night! She's actually good at photography-" Billies eyes roll. "Can we get back to this, please?" He stares at her. "What's your problem with her, shes so kind to you and lately you've been rude even to her face. Like fine do what you want or say what you want to me, but the poor girls done absolutely nothing to you." - "Yeah well she bugs me. How did you even meet her she kinda just spawned." He sets the mic he had in hand, down.

"Claudia was taking a pilates class and Y/n happened to be there and they got talking. Found out she lived quite close by, got to know her better and she was really sweet." Billie was getting tired of hearing about you. "We don't know what her intentions are." "Billie." She just shrugs. "What! She could be after you or something, she was getting cozy with you the other day I saw. Maybe she's going to break you and Claudia up!" Finneas looks at her like she's insane. "You really need to get to know her better. She's most definitely not after me." Her brows furrow. "And how do you know that?"

"Shes gay Billie, full blown lesbian. If anything she'd be interested in Claudia, but she isn't because she's just a decent human being, something you're kinda lacking at the moment." Maybe she was being quite over the top. She still hated you. But she might of been starting to realize why. Especially when she heard you were into girls. There was no doubt you were beautiful, too beautiful for words. When Billie was giving you dirty looks all the time she actually wasn't, in her mind she was thinking how effortlessly pretty you were. Maybe those things bugged her more so than the reason she claims to hate you for. Maybe she actually liked you but used the hatred method to get over it.

Regardless she still 'hated' you. And tonight you couldn't take it anymore. You had arrived early as usual, carrying a bag of supplies. "You didn't have to do that!" Claudia smiles at the girl. "Ofcourse i did! You know how much I love helping out." - "Ugh you're an angel." She says, helping you bring it in. Billie was there too and she couldn't help rolling her eyes, you being some perfect angel, she didn't believe it still. Even if the true reason was right infront of her. You on the other hand, had really liked Billie at first. She was gorgeous, she was talented and you admired her deeply.

That was until you found out she hated you, you kinda picked up on it with the looks and the snide comments. You tried to ignore it, saying that maybe she's just going through something. But that's just who you were, you'd always give people the benefit of the doubt. But you were strong you could handle people who mocked and criticized you when you had to. You stood up for yourself. And you sure as hell did tonight.

People started coming in the small house, crowding it ever so slightly. You had a drink in hand talking with some mutual friends you had made in the past year of knowing Finn and Claud. But you felt eyes on you. Not admiring ones, deadly ones. You turn to see it was ofcourse Billie. You wanted to ignore it but the drink was telling you to do the exact opposite. You excuse yourself from the conversation you were currently in and approach her on the couch. You never really talked to her, nor tried to. You got the impression it was pointless.

"Can we talk?" You ask so sweetly, you never had any bad intentions. But oh God she just wanted to rip that soft voice out of you. On the other hand she was a little shocked you'd even speak to her, she reluctantly said sure. Very nonchalantly, shrugging at the same time. She gets up and follows you to a quieter area. "Have I done something?" You finally ask, after months of knowing her, after months of her being crude. Yet another shrug. This wasn't going to be easy at all. "Well it sure seems as if I have, can I fix it?"

All you wanted was to be friends with people, never enemies. "Why are you so hell bent on making things perfect all the time." She finally snaps. "Billie-" "I swear you come in this house being all 'look at me I'm wonderful' When i doubt that's truly the case." You stare at her in disbelief. Finn had told you about Billie being off about you. But you never realized just how much. You swallow, unable to process her harsh words. "Well. If that's how you feel." She soon after nods. "Yup." You just scoff slightly. "Wow. Glad to know where I stand with you." Your feet go to move, when you then hear her speak.

"Hopefully really far away." The response was cold. You could feel your throat tightening, and honestly wanting to cry. But you weren't going to give her that satisfaction. "You're a bitch." You breathe out. "Right back at you." All you could think of was getting the hell out of there. You brush past people, Finneas being one of them. "Woah woah- where are you going?" His bewildered look made you sigh. "Ask your sister." You speak bluntly. Leaving after that. His brows furrow, on his way looking for her. Once he finds her he strides over. "What the fuck Billie." Eyes roll. Again.

"Oh what, did she come crying to you like a God damn baby? She came to me, I didn't start it." His head lowers, shaking it. "Jesus Billie, no she didn't come crying to me, she whooshed past heading for the door, she most definitely looked upset though. Why? Why have you got such a hatred for her for fuck sakes?" She just looks at her brother. "I dunno." He laughs slightly. "I do." Her brow raises, the left one. "Enlighten me." "You like her, but you can never deal with your feelings properly so you're pushing her away before you can fall too deep for her." Silence.

He knew her better than she knew herself, but it was true. The first time she ever did see you. Her heart was melting but she had to stop it. Maybe because of situations in the past, but she was too far into the hatred. She was genuinely believing she hated you. Even though it was a lie. "Whatever, I don't care. She started it." "No. You did, this would've never even happened if you hadn't grown this disliking bull shit. It's stupid." That was the last thing said before he leaves, Billie standing there not knowing what to do.

Nothing changed. Not even after Finneas scolded her. If anything the hatred grew, larger, causing you to hate her in the process. It was silly, but it happened. It was yet again another party, Claudia's brand had a new big release, so they were throwing a bit of a celebration. She had a small one two days ago, but decided a more boozey one would be fun. And it was at first, you were enjoying yourself. Dancing with a mutual friend, this one girl you had grown to like, Ava. A closer friend of Claudia's. She was always so bubbly and out there you loved it. Music was blasting, crowds of people. More so than the usual parties they'd throw.

A few drinks down and all you wanted to do was dance, Ava seemed to be on the same page, extending her hand out for you to grab. "Dance?" You smiled. "I thought you'd never ask!" You say loud enough over the booming music. Huge smiles were on both of your faces, but you couldn't help feeling the opposite shooting daggers into the back of your head. You sensed something. So instinctively you turn around, seeing none other than Billie. This time your eyes roll. You were so incredibly sick of her childishness. It was getting pathetic.

Your attention is soon back on Ava as her hands move to your waist, it was flirty. The whole situation. You hadn't realized Billies stare changed considering you weren't paying her any mind. It progressed into jealousy. She didn't ever want to admit that but it was true. That should be her, but she's gone too far. Screwed up too much to the point where you hated her guts. Only because she falsely hated you. It was all her dumbass fault. After a few songs you go upstairs to find the bathroom, stumbling just slightly.

Thankfully if you ever drunk too much they let you crash at theirs. Always. You were like family to them, more so Claudia. Both of your bonds were incredibly close. You come back out, but unpleasantly you met those stupid eyes. Ones that were beautiful, but attached to the person who drove you mental. Potentially in many ways..

"What do you want." - "You into her or something?" You glare at her. "Excuse me?" She presses her weight on her right leg. "Ava, she was getting quite close to you earlier." A scoff was heard from you. "Why on earth do you care. Might I mention all of a sudden, when you normally want to 'stay far away' from me." There was a slight pause, was she thinking of a response. Your eyes roll as you go to brush past her but she grabs your wrist. "Do you like her?" You try to pull. "Leave me alone Billie. Your presence is already pissing me off." She lets out a dry laugh. "Trust me, princess. Yours isn't liked a whole lot either. Don't get a big head." You wanted to scream in her face.

She was so infuriating. And even though that name was meant to be mocking you stupidly liked it. You give her one last glare before you're storming down the stairs. Her feet on your trail. You go to Ava and grab her face. "Kiss me." You say sweetly, mixed with a sultry tone. She smirked slightly. "Say no more." And she did just that, attaching her lips onto your own. Billie saw, vividly. If this was a cartoon, you'd surely see steam piping out of her ears. But why? Why on earth did this bother her so much. For someone who didn't give a fuck about you. She sure did seem to care a fuck ton.

After an hour or so you were going back up to the bathroom, making sure everything's still intact. When your wrist is being grabbed. "He!-" Then a hand was slapped against your mouth. "Zip it." Your eyes meet hers in the mirror, your instincts finally kicking in after the initial confusion. You bite her hand making her retract, pushing her back. "What the fuck is wrong with you. Do tell cuz I'm getting genuinely sick of this shit." She laughs in your face. It was cold and mocking. Just like all the other times before. "You're just a spoilt bitch you know that." Your eyes roll but she grabs your jaw. "You love rolling your eyes huh."

You push her off of you, again. "What? you're the only one who can?" - "Smart mouth." She says.

"Fucking dick." You stare at one another for a second, something shifted in the air. Something different. She slowly backs you up against the sink. No words to be said, just actions. Her eyes going over your face, eyes, cheeks nose. Lips. Your heart picks up at the current moment. The whole situation being odd. Still no words. Her eyes linger on your lips, hands eventually making contact with your hips. What were you giving in to? It felt like you were. This new found tension. Her face was incredibly close to your own. You hated that you liked this, you hated how she has you currently. You felt weak, weaker than you had been.

"I hate you." You seethed, but it was hushed. Unable to focus on forming the right sentences. "Yeah, turns me on." Your breath hitches in your throat, only visible to your mind. Glad she couldn't see how wound up you are getting. You couldn't take the slight tease. You give into everything. Leaning in to kiss her, it was intense, messy. Hot, like lava. Her hands move over your body as you shift in her touch. "Hate you so much." You say on her lips. "Sure you do." You hum. Resuming the kiss, but hers goes to your chin, jaw. Neck. You breathe out. "Hate you.." - "Just shut up." Her teeth sink into your skin, doing just as she had asked. Your mouth shut tight. Eyes doing the same.

When all of a sudden your back hits the bathroom wall. Her hands grip your wrists and shove them above your head, against the cold brick. Your shocked expression makes her laugh. "I hate you too angel, with a burning passion." Her knee presses hard against your clothed cunt, causing your mouth to fall open with a gasp. "God you make me so angry, but look at you. At the same time I just wanna fuck you senseless. This time your eyes would be rolling for a different reason." "Please." Your voice was moany, whiney. All of the above. You needed this and now. She goes to lock the door, slithering her belt out in the process.

It was her HMHAS one, so it was perfect for what she wanted to do. "Everything off." And in a heartbeat her request was fulfilled. She sighs out, making your thighs clench at how hot it sounded. "Even through all the hate I still wanted you deep down." She admitted, making you swoon for this more. "Need you." She smirks at you, how eager you have become. "Yeah? Turn around, wrists together." How could you possibly deny that. Your back faces her as your arms go behind you. She ties that same belt tightly around them, fastening it in the black lock. You were truly trapped. And she was loving it.

"You gotta stay quiet though, can't have anyone know what we are up to can we?" You look at her. "What, wouldn't want people hearing that you don't actually hate me?" Your breath soon gets caught as she grabs the end of the belt, tightening it harder. "Watch it." She not only warns with her voice but her eyes too. You glare at her slightly, eventually feeling her tug you around and sitting you on the sink counter. "Stay quiet. If you don't do exactly as I say I'll leave you here. With nothing." Your eyes fell. Deciding to stop the act and just listen. Her fingers meet your wet pussy making your head fall against the mirror. "Fuck-" You bite your lip, remember what she had said.

"Mmm, close one huh?" You bit hard, nodding slightly. Her fingers slowly make contact with your entrance wasting no time into dipping them in, harshly. She was fucking evil. She wasn't even going to try be nice by taking it slow. Ensuring some noises come out. Your lip starts to bleed and she just laughs. "You stupid girl." You wanted to slap her, and you go to do so but remember. You can't. A tiny groan leaves your throat. "Uh-huh, think again." She says, noticing you struggle in the belt. When she hears you whine, muffled by your teeth sinking into your lip.

Her pace was ungodly, sending your eyes to truly roll back. "That's it, take them like the greedy bitch you are." You retreat your teeth from its former position. "Mm, fuck you." You mindlessly say. "Oh baby, don't say things you know you can't handle." You gave up, gave up with trying to outsmart her in any way. "Billie please, just fucking ruin me." Your request had her shocked slightly. "Don't underestimate me baby." - "I plan to."

Her fingers swiftly move out of you, earning a moan at the feeling and stretch. Her Jeans hit the floor, making you look infront at the fake dick. She looked so good, staring down at you with such lust. Enjoying the fact she was way taller than you now, your form sinking into the counter. Your body slumped. Anticipating what was about to come. Preferably you. The tip of the cock touches your weeping hole, making your mind race. You didn't care anymore you needed this more than anything. "Please put it in, please Billie-" And she does. Deep. Taking things on the faster side, fucking you absolutely filthy. Your head leans back again as it hits deeper. "Shit." You mutter softly. When you heard knocking. "Everything alright in there." Your eyes widen as you hear Avas voice.

She didn't know you were in there, but Billie needed her to. She had to show what was now hers. No one else was in here fucking your brains out, it was her. Just her. So she thrusts deeper than she had that night, hitting your g-spot causing you to let out a breathy moan. Bingo. "Yep! Just had a drunken lil accident and got hurt but it's all ok." Billie then replies. What a fucking liar, a good one because Ava seemed to believe it mainly. But Billie didn't stop, not one bit. "You're so annoying." You moan again. "Am I really? I'm just so annoying, isn't it so annoying that I'm fucking you so good. Your eyes are getting a good view of the back of your head. Yeah, how annoying."

Your eyes begin to shut, but her hand fixes on your jaw, holding tight. "Still hate me huh?" "Mhmmm." You say with your teeth back on your lip. "Mm, those noises tell me otherwise." She gets the perfect angle, hitting that blissful spot deep inside you. "Billie-" You gasp. "Go on, cum all over it. Gush all your hate on my dick baby." That alone sent you insane, your back arching as her thrusts continue. "Fuckfuckfuck." You chant as you felt it coming. Your orgasm has you shaking, has her satisfied. She was in awe seeing you like this.

"Still hate me, princess?"

[lalaithion]

Fundamentally I believe that writing about the rich and varied human existence is so important, and authors who do this end up seeming prescient in ways that naive analysis often rejects.

Two examples. First; a lot of people ship Frodo/Sam or Legolas/Gimli (or more obscure gay ships like Maedhros/Fingon), and some people say stuff like “well, Tolkien was catholic, he clearly didn’t intend for these characters to be gay.” But Tolkien himself says that he doesn’t write Christian allegory, in fact he despises all allegory. What he does is write about the rich and varied human existence, and when he did so he drew on the experiences of the likely closeted gay and bisexual men he had met over his life! And he synthesized this as just a way people behave, not as ‘representation’ but reality. And we can recognize that while in the early twentieth century, the 15% of people that identify as bisexual in the current generation (gen Z) would likely have married people of the opposite gender, that doesn’t mean they didn’t have same-gender relationships that had romantic elements even if they were never consummated.

A second example; in Tamora Pierce’s the Song of the Lioness Quartet, Alanna, the main character, dresses as a boy and trains to be a knight. As she grows up, she has to re-learn to connect with her femininity in secret with the few people who know who she is (thus making her a paradoxically-apt role model for both trans men and trans women, depending on which parts of the narrative one projects oneself onto). But Alanna never feels truly comfortable as a woman, either, and constantly has to assert both her masculinity and femininity to different people once she becomes a knight and reveals the secret. Tamora Pierce has since stated that if Alanna were born in the modern day, she would likely identify as genderfluid. But these books were written in the 1980s, and while there were people in that time period who were exploring the language of nonbinary and genderfluid identities, it wasn’t really a widespread notion, and while I can’t be sure Tamora Pierce didn’t encounter that language I sort of doubt Alanna was intended from the beginning to fit that identity. Instead, Pierce wrote a character based on the people she knew in life, who perhaps uncomfortably chafed at their assigned gender, and wrote a character who really believably would be genderfluid today, despite (plausibly) not knowing what ‘genderfluid’ was!

And I think that’s beautiful. There’s not really a point to this but just to highlight a perspective in literary analysis that you can lose if you focus too much on the biographical details of the author.