#because i just could not believe the level of DRAMA i was reading (and the craft with which it was written)

[britneyshakespeare]

don carlos by friedrich schiller is the most wild thing i've read all year and i'm only in act 2

[the-crooked-library]

Alright so it seems that I'm not quite done beating the horse that is the Bacon triptych - because the potential layers in its presence have me absolutely enthralled. As a visual element, it illustrates the "currently unfolding" part of the drama, but also appears to allude to a story that's yet to come; and, granted, that may be the brainrot speaking, but my art history fixation is insisting that there's gold in them hills, so bear with me here.

As tenuous as it may seem at first glance, I firmly believe that the writing itself supports my fascination with this piece. It demands to be noticed. It is a vivid splash of red in a box of brutalist grey; and, furthermore, unlike the other paintings in the Dubai penthouse, it's written into the dialogue. The camera lingers there - hence, the series wants us to pay attention; and, while its subject-level significance is not to be discarded, I cannot help but see another, similarly emotional allusion within the same frames.

Instead of drawing from the painting, this story layer connects more to the artist himself. One of the most notable periods of Francis Bacon's personal life was his relationship with George Dyer, which lasted from the 1960s to the early 1970s. Unlike his previous paramours - who were largely older (and, in the case of the last, abusive) men, Dyer was a young addict. Described as someone who could "throw a decisive punch," he was nevertheless vulnerable and trusting; as such, Bacon took on a dominant role, and Dyer became his muse. Among Bacon's portraits, he was ever-present; and though the relationship was tumultuous, often overwhelmed by their shared addictions, those paintings are uncharacteristically tender.

The story ended with tragedy - it's an account of drugs, alcoholism, neediness, dependence, classism, friction, and Dyer's eventual suicide; and within the context of IWTV, this framework is undeniably thematically relevant.

From the beginning - a decade-long involvement, addiction, an uncharacteristic tenderness - beat for beat, the book version of Devil's Minion is the same story, happening only a few years off. The presence of the Bacon painting within the Dubai penthouse is, in my opinion, an indicator to it having happened in the show as well. Just like Dyer, the TV version Daniel met Armand in a pub (or bar); just like Dyer, he is compact, athletic, pale, working-class - and, when under the influence, boisterous and active.

There is, naturally, one key difference; unlike Dyer, Daniel survives.

In the Doylist sense, the painting, therefore, acts as a visual cue - almost as evidence, of sorts. The memory of their entanglement may be effaced, but the blood-red stain of it is impossible to ignore, as is this placement:

I don't believe it is accidental that the painting is sold almost as soon as Daniel arrives in Dubai. It is an indication that the Devil and his Minion are no longer locked within a determined ending; their story continues, and memories are replaced with the real, living thing.

Edit: it bears pointing out that, while I had this post hanging in my drafts, convinced that I was reading far too much into something that already had another reason to exist, it's been announced that the relationship between Daniel and Armand is, in fact, going to be explored within the series. My every wish has been granted, and I can hardly wait.

[separatist-apologist]

Guilty As Sin

Summary: Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her.

And now he has her.

TW: Dubious consent, blood kink, knife play

Read On AO3

-

It would be, perhaps, Rhysand’s greatest triumph to kill Tamlin Rosewood. After all, Tamlin had set him down this path so many years before—when they’d been teenagers, two boys from questionable, if not wealthy homes, looking for something to make them feel alive. Tamlin had asked Rhys if he wanted to see something cool, and then let him watch as Tamlin sliced apart a local vagrant. It should have been horrifying. Disgusting.

And yet Rhysand had found the whole thing fascinating. More fascinating still was how easy it was to claim his first kill. Rhysand needed a moral code to keep himself in line, to keep from just jamming a blade into every person who passed him on the street. Tamlin had suggested it, too, perhaps recognizing Rhys’ propensity for violence. Or maybe he knew all too well how enjoyable snuffing out life was. How close to God it made Rhys feel.

Pick those that can fight back.

People who’ve wasted their life.

Do the world a  favor.

Of course they’d eventually turn on each other. How long before two serial killers realized the world might be better off without at least one of them? It had been a cat and mouse game ever since, trying to catch the other unaware and going to ground when they failed. Tamlin had come close a couple times while Rhys had mostly just watched.

Waited.

Bided his time until Tamlin genuinely believed himself to be a god. That Rhys was so afraid of him he wouldn’t dare. Tamlin had let his guard down just enough to find himself a girlfriend he apparently liked. And she, Rhys decided, was going to be how he finally killed Tamlin. Collateral in their feud, he told himself. After all, any woman dumb enough to fall for Tamlin wasn’t worth much. 

He’d looked her up—Feyre Archeron. Her profile picture on facebook was an artbrush, but she’d helpfully listed every job she’d ever had since high school—and there had been many. Rhys ran them all down until he got to the art studio she taught at and, because he liked a little drama in his life, signed him up for one of her intro classes. 

He had been unaware he would be the only adult in said class until a wave of bouncy, giggly children had stormed through the doors, taking seats at easels while their parents vanished. He could have slipped out—he’d meant to, he swore it. But Feyre Archeron had come waltzing in wearing a baby blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem hanging just beneath her ass, and oh. Rhys stayed in his chair, if only to admire the curve of her hips in those cotton soft leggings.

She didn’t seem like Tamlin’s usual type. There was a softness to her features, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose alongside a splatter of violet ink in those cerulean eyes, that made Rhys certain she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her full mouth curved into an easy smile, gaze settling on him.

“Did you mean to sign up for this?” she asked him, eliciting another round of giggles from the children. There was no malice to her words, playful and sweet. He wanted to put his hands on her. Was she corruptible? Oh, how Rhys wanted to find out. His plans reshaped themselves as they looked at the other, though Feyre didn’t know it. Killing her wasn’t an option, not anymore. No. He’d take her for himself, stripping Tamlin of everything he cared about before finally spilling his blood. And he’d start with perfect, pretty Feyre Archeron.

Rhys offered her a lazy smile, running a hand through his ebony hair. “My skill level is comparable, I’m certain.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she replied, her delight evident. Rhys felt her amusement reflected in his own body. When was the last time anyone had charmed him by sight alone? Nevermind how funny he found her, watching as she interacted with each student with the kind of unending patience he could only dream of. It begged the question—what did Tamlin want with her? He knew Tamlin, and of all the virtues Tamlin might claim to have, patience certainly wasn’t one of them.

He had a famously vicious temper. 

Did Feyre know her boyfriend was a serial killer? Did Tamlin know his girlfriend taught school children in her spare time? What would be more abhorrent to who? Rhys never managed to untangle that, just like he never managed to make his brush strokes half as nice as the eight year old beside him. Rhys lingered, waiting until the kids were gone and Feyre was cleaning up to say something to her.

“I’m not some kind of weirdo, I hope you know,” he began, drawing a pretty laugh from prettier lips. 

“No? I might have thought so if I hadn’t seen how abysmal you are with a brush. I teach preschoolers on Tuesdays. You might be better suited in that class.”

“You wound me, Ms. Archeron,” he replied, one hand pressed to his chest. “You didn’t like my house?”

“Oh, was that what it is?” she asked, squinting at his muddied colors on the paper. “I thought you were painting me a stormy sky.”

“I’ll paint whatever you tell me to,” Rhys quipped, noting how her cheeks flushed. No ring on her finger—god, but how incredible to seduce her out from under Tamlin’s nose. For Tamlin not to realize he was losing everything to his old nemesis. How long before Tamlin learned of Rhysand’s treachery? Rhysand was a patient man. It was one of his better qualities, few as they were.

He’d send Tamlin a wedding invitation inked in blood, fuck his new wife, and then, as a gift to her, bring her Tamlin’s still beating heart.

Wife? That was a weird thought.

Rhys cleared his head. He was merely excited at the prospect of punishing Tamlin—that was all. Feyre was beautiful, but hardly wife material. Besides, the kind of woman who spent her time teaching children to color within the lines didn’t want to get shackled to the likes of him. Not long-term, at any rate. Rhys had dated plenty of women, all of whom woke up one morning deeply unsettled and certain they were making a mistake. He couldn’t blame them—he would make an awful husband. 

A good lay, though? He could give her that. 

“Watch yourself Rhysand.”

“Come, now,” he said, rising from the little metal stool he’d been sitting on. She was so much smaller than him—lithe and lovely, so breakable in a way that made him want to be careful rather than rough. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“Fine. Watch yourself Rhys. I’ll think you’re flirting if you’re not careful,” Feyre said, twisting that thick, golden brown hair off her face with a paintbrush. Something within him stirred at the sight of wispy tendrils framing her face, fingers twitching with the urge to brush them from her cheekbones. 

“Careful isn’t how anyone who knows me would describe me. Besides…maybe I am flirting.”

This was the part where she told him she had a boyfriend. Rhys waited, catching the flicker of indecision streak over her features. He could practically hear her rationalizing it in her mind—there was no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, Tamlin. Rhys cocked his head. How far could he take this before she broke? If he could just get his hands into those tight leggings of hers, she’d forget all about that blonde haired bastard. C’mon, Rhys urged.

His silent plea fell on deaf ears. Too good for the likes of him, Feyre said, “Well, if you were flirting, I’d have to tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky him,” Rhys replied, gut twisting despite his easy expression. “I know when I’ve been beat. See you around Feyre.”

And then he left, still smiling to himself as he went. She had no idea, of course. 

But Rhys would be seeing her very soon.

– 

Feyre stared down at the meal, ruined again. Behind her, Tamlin practically seethed with unseen anger. She could feel him working to leash his temper, to resist the urge to tell her I told you so.

I told you you’re a terrible cook.

“I’ll order dinner,” Tamlin said, ignoring the way Feyre blinked back tears. Bracing the ledge of the sink, she stared out the open window into the dark. She was trying—didn’t that matter? It wasn’t that badly burned, besides. They could have eaten around it. Feyre wished Tamlin would sit down, tell her it looked good, and eat it. Was that so much to ask? 

Apparently, given the heavy, long-suffering sigh from the man behind her. “You don’t need to try so hard, Feyre. You have me.”

“It’s—” She choked back the urge to scream that it wasn’t about impressing him. It was about care, about showing him that she loved him in some tangible way. Doing something for him so that he, in turn, might do something for her. Might do or say something that made her feel seen and safe. 

It had been a year of the stretching silence and the long sighs. Of not technically doing anything that would cause her to break up with her, all while giving off an air of not liking her very much. Well—that wasn’t fair. When the lights were out and they were in bed, Tamlin was very attentive. Detached, somehow—he never wanted her to look him in the eye—but he knew every place to touch and tease to make her writhe. And that was too often enough to convince her it was better to stay and hope whatever was bothering him faded and he went back to the love sick fool she’d first fallen in love with.

It didn’t help that Rhysand—Rhys—was still lodged firmly in her brain three days post meeting him. He’d been…well…he’d been beautiful. And charming. And funny, too. Endearing, even, as the kids teased him for his poor paint work. And when he’d said he was flirting, well…Feyre had imagined sending Tamlin a quick text message.

This is over. Don’t call me again. 

Throwing away a year on a man with a roguish smile seemed like a call for help. Still, he’d been on her mind, unshakable as her relationship with Tamlin stagnated like pond water. He ordered food without consulting her, ate it silently, all the while staring at his phone. He worked for a security firm and spent so much time watching the cameras, tracking people with a single-minded devotion she wished he’d focus on her.

“I’m going out,” he told her abruptly, only after Feyre had changed into a tiny slip of a nightdress, thinking she’d feel better if they at least had sex. His pine green gaze slid down her body without a hint of interest or appreciation. Just an acknowledgement that she had nearly every inch of her skin out for him before looking back to her face. “You can wait up, if you want.” How romantic, she wanted to scream. She felt utterly pathetic, a neglected housewife married for twenty years while her husband had an affair. Only Tamlin’s affair was with his job and Feyre would never come first. 

Say nothing, she ordered herself. And yet her traitorous lips said, “Couldn’t it wait another night?”

He regarded her without emotion. “It can’t. Get some sleep, Feyre. I’ll be in later.” Tamlin turned without a look back, swiping his car keys thrown haphazardly on the dresser, and strode from the room. Feyre didn’t, listening to the sound of the soft snick of the closing door and the sound of tires pulling away from the curb.

What was more pathetic, she wondered as she padded into the kitchen for a drink for water? Staying up late to seduce him, thus allowing him to have everything he wanted without doing any work at all, or staying with him when she was so miserable in the first place? Was this love?

Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer any of those questions. 

There, in the hall, stood a tall, muscular…man? They certainly seemed masculine, with broad shoulders that tapered into a rather nice waist beneath that high necked sweater. Matching black pants and a belt would have made him look rather nice, had he not been holding a massive, jagged knife in one gloved hand.

The ghost face mask obscuring his features didn’t help, either. Feyre didn’t move, heart hammering against her ribs. Scream. Run. Do something.

“There you are,” a deep, rich voice spoke from beneath the mask, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don’t hurt me,” Feyre whispered, rooted in place as he made his way towards her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drinking in the heady smell of his cologne and that horrible knife glinting beneath the artificial lights beaming overhead. 

With his free hand, he reached toward her and to her credit, Feyre didn’t flinch. She merely stood utterly still as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone before sliding his gloved thumb over her lip.

“Hurt you? Darling, I’m here to rescue you.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of those dark words dripping with the promise of…the promise of what? Feyre tried a step backward, tripping over her own nervous feet to fall to the ground. The man lunged and she braced herself for the pain of his blade, for blood and misery before finally death. But all she found was fingers around her body, hoisting her into the air.

She flailed, heel connecting with his jaw. He swore and the two fell to the ground gracelessly a second time, him tearing her nightdress to keep her pinned beneath him.

“I do so like you like this,” he all but growled as she tried to yank that mask off his face. If she was going to kill her, she deserved to look him in the eyes. His fingers curled around her wrists, subduing her quickly—easily, before gathering both in one big, broad hand. The other came over her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered as she kicked out her legs from beneath him. Why was this happening? She was going to die. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. How could he say that as he was suffocating her with his hand? She  continued to writhe, for all the good it did her, her screaming mind drowning out the words her attacker was saying. Lungs burning, desperately trying to gasp for air, Feyre couldn’t control her limbs. She felt herself getting dizzy, choking on her own pooling spit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” her attacker said, his voice far away. “Stop fighting me and I’ll remove my hand.” Her body went limp as she complied immediately, willing to do anything if it meant she could breathe again. And true to his word, her attacker removed his hand, letting her take a gasping, sobbing breath of air. 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, caressing her cheek a second time. “If you do everything I say, no one has to get hurt. Can you stand?”

“No,” Feyre said, eyes closed as she focused only on the sensation of air in her body. She wasn’t going to help him abduct her, besides. Not that it mattered. He had her wrists bound before he picked her back up like she was weightless to him, walking her toward her front door with ease.

“My boyfriend has cameras on the door,” she said, unsure if she was warning this man or helping him. “He’s going to see you.”

A chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “Oh, I am well aware. Your boyfriend is too busy hunting tonight to check…and by the time he does, you and I will be long gone.”

The cool night air was like a caress against her clammy skin. Feyre saw the car—sleek and dark—parked so brazenly in the drive. 

“The police will find you,” she warned, deciding for a little boldness despite her swimming head and desperate desire to fall asleep.

“That would require Tamlin to call them…and he won’t. No, my darling—this is personal and you’re simply caught up in the middle of it. Now—can I trust you to behave in my back seat, or do you need to go in the trunk? I don’t want to put you back there…but I will.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre demanded, mind swimming.

“I mean, I don’t want to die on the road—”

“About hunting,” she interrupted, looking up at that ghostface mask. “About Tamlin not calling the police.”

Her attacker seemed to hesitate, muscles going taut beneath her. “I had a whole presentation planned. Why spoil it?”

“Tell me.”

“Your boyfriend is a killer—just like me. He taught me, in fact—or rather, we taught each other. He can’t involve the police without risking himself so he won’t.”

“Am I bait?”

“Oh, Feyre darling, you are so much more than that. For now, you’re merely my guest. Now—can I trust you in the car?”

Ferye closed her eyes. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to be careful. She had the thought just as her attacker laid her in the back of his car. She panicked, seeing him hovering over her, and immediately kicked him in the throat. He stumbled back as Feyre filled her lungs with air and screamed. She didn’t yell help—but screamed at the top of her lungs hoping a neighbor would come out.

“Fucking shit,” the kidnapper groaned, lunging forward. With her wrists bound, Feyre couldn’t do much, especially when he picked her back up. “Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want—-” She screamed directly against his ear, causing him to jerk back a step. He didn’t speak, merely popped his trunk and dumped her unceremoniously inside.

“Remember I tried,” he said before slamming it shut. Feyre immediately started looking for the little hatch that would open it, pulling it with her teeth.

The masked man was waiting, arms crossed over his chest. “Why must you make this difficult?”

“I hate you,” she bit back, heart racing in her throat. He only sighed before producing masking tape. After a moment, she found it pressed over her eyes and mouth before he bound her ankles, too.

“Open my trunk and roll out,” he dared her, the sound of his voice somehow more terrifying than the sight of him. “See how far that gets you.”

He slammed the trunk again, leaving Feyre alone in the dark. She screamed against the tape, trying to break it until her wrists were raw. He’d begun driving, the music faint through the fabric of the backseats. Would it have been smarter to pretend to be his friend? To lull him into a false sense of security? Feyre had never been particularly patient. In fact, she was spontaneous to a fault, acting without thinking and hoping it all worked out. Of course, that was for school assignments and ghosting friends—never because she’d been kidnapped.

Think, Feyre. 

She couldn’t, though. Not beyond her immediate problem, which was the tape over her mouth and eyes. If she could just get it off, Feyre thought she’d be able to think more clearly. Figure out a plan and execute it. She rubbed until her wrists ached and her head pounded, but at no point did she manage to do anything but chafe her skin, exhaling for air roughly through her nose. 

Eventually, the car came to a stop, the music cutting off abruptly. Lost to the dark, Feyre went limp as the sound of shoes on gravel flooded her senses. A moment later, cold air rushed into the trunk as hands lifted her in the air.

“You’re a terrible actress,” her captor murmured, his amusement plain. “I’m going to unbind you when we get inside. Are you listening to me? Nod your head.” Feyre did.

She heard the sound of numbers being keyed into a pad followed by the smell of warm cedar, drowning out the unmistakable scent of snow. Feyre was set on something soft—a sofa, before the tape was peeled off her eyes, and then her mouth. She was in a cabin, she realized. Well decorated and comfortable—and likely remote. Had he taken her up into the Illyrian Mountains?

“People will be looking for me—”

“No they won’t,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the edge of his mask. He was showing her his face? Feyre panicked—the only reason he’d do that was if he didn’t intend for her to tell anyone. She almost begged him not to, but a second later he’d peeled it back, revealing…well. Not what she’d imagined.

He was handsome, the asshole. Dark hair paired with eyes so blue they seemed violet were the first things she noticed. He was staring down at her, his sensual lips curled into a smile. The sharpness of his jaw and his high cheekbones gave him an almost aristocratic air, and his warm, brown skin was utterly unblemished and smooth. 

She’d been imagining him as some ugly man. This was worse, somehow. If he was caught, he’d have prison groupies. People would wonder if he’d really done anything horrible at all given how lovely he was to look at. That charming smile certainly didn’t help. 

"I remember you," she said. "From the art studio."

Rhys grinned. 

“Let me explain to you how things are going to work between us,” he began, running a hand through his thick hair. “There is nowhere for you to run, and if you try, you’re likely to plummet to your death or freeze before I find you. No one is looking for you. Repeat that as often as you need to. Tamlin will make all your excuses. He’s not going to rescue you. Until I’m done, you are at my mercy.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, wishing she could curl herself into a small ball. 

He chuckled. “No, Feyre. I’m not going to kill you. I think we might get along perfectly well so long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

Like running away. The look on his face told her he expected her to. She didn’t have shoes, was dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn’t get far, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he banked on her fear to keep her compliant. 

He made a show of pulling a pocket knife from his pants and freeing her, frowning at her raw, bruised wrists. Feyre drew them against her chest, looking up at him warily. “What now?” He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you remain within these walls.”

Fat chance of that. But Feyre nodded, hoping she looked properly scared. The cabin itself was small, and filled with cameras. He’d see her. Fine. He had to sleep at some point—he couldn’t be monitoring her all day, every day.

It was a bit of a stretch to call it a cabin given the home had two floors. It was remote, though, and seemed to function mostly off the grid, and had a rather nice kitchen she doubted he knew how to use. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a den he seemed to work out of—she wasn’t sure, given he didn’t open that door and merely gestured to it with a casual, don’t go in there.

Maybe it was where he tortured his victims. 

Feyre was given a room down the hall from him, devoid of a lock. “Look up,” he murmured, chin gutting toward the camera. “Wave to Tamlin.”

Feyre glanced up, unsure which of them she hated more. “He can see me?”

“He’ll see this,” Rhys murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s easy enough to send it to him.”

“You could get back at him without involving me,” she heard herself say, wondering if that made her a traitor. This had nothing to do with her, and Feyre felt as if she was being punished unfairly for whatever was going on between Rhys and Tamlin. 

He shrugged. “Consider this a rescue.”

A rescue? Feyre was going to kill him. Maybe he saw it, because he nodded toward the twin bed shoved in the corner. “There’s some clothes in the closet you can use—”

“Who did they belong to?” she demanded, heart leaping in her throat.

“My cousin,” he replied, eyes narrowed. As if he were offended she might suggest there’d been another captive in the room. Feyre didn’t want to think about that—it made her panic all over again. 

Rhys left after a few more self satisfied words around how he’d find her if she tried to escape so not to bother. Feyre wasn’t listening, already thinking about escaping through the window. Was it locked? Her bedroom door wasn’t, which felt like a test. Was he hoping she’d try and escape? 

Feyre sat on the edge of that bed and talked herself into her plan. Ignoring that it was cold and isolated and that she was woefully unprepared, Feyre instead thought about Rhys.

He wasn’t a god. He was only a man. He might have cameras on her, might have her watched, but he couldn’t search miles and miles of forest. The only advantage he had, supposedly, was that he knew she was missing before anyone else did. Feyre had grown up running through the backwoods and something about the slick way Rhys had his hair shoved off his stupid, too-perfect, face, told her he could not boast the same.

Feyre found booties in the back of the closet, and a million pairs of leggings hanging in the closet besides sweaters that were far too big for her frame. They’d double as a blanket, she decided as she pulled it all on. 

He was probably watching her. Feyre turned toward the camera and the blinking red light and offered her middle finger before throwing open that window. 

“For fucks sake!” Rhys’s voice called from somewhere inside the cabin. Feyre scrambled out the window, toppling feet over head into the frigid snow. Rhys’s fingers skimmed her ankle, attempting to drag her back inside. 

Scrambling to her feet as he came right out behind her in that stupid mask, Feyre realized it was a lot harder to run in snow than she’d expected. She had a head start on him for a solid ten seconds before he slammed into her, taking them both back to the ground. Rhys was made of solid muscle and was heavy. 

His bare hand wrapped around her throat, arching her neck upward until his lips touched her ear. “I told you not to,” he said as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get out from under him. 

“I don’t care what you say!” Feyre screamed. Rhys grabbed her arms, holding them in one broad hand as he restrained her thoroughly.

“You will—” he began, but Feyre head butted him, earning a furious curse in her ear. He half fell to his side, losing his grip on her wrists, which gave her time to scramble back to her feet. Rhys was just behind, grabbing her around her middle before hauling her up on his shoulder.

Feyre screamed, and though Rhys stumbled, he didn’t drop her like she’d hoped he would. 

“Scream all you want,” Rhys roared in response, as if he needed to make his point. “No one can hear you!”

“Tamlin is going—”

“He’s not coming!” Rhys interrupted, his fury finally scaring her. She hadn’t been frightened before—not truly. But right then, draped over Rhys’s shoulder while he wore that mask in the dark, his voice dripping with condemnation, Feyre was frightened. He sounded irate, dragging her back into that cabin with sure steps.

He didn’t take her back to that same room. Instead, Rhys dropped her into a different one—one that looked distinctly lived in. One that belonged to him, she realized. Feyre attempted to scramble up but Rhys was consistently faster. He had one leg, and then the other bound to the posts at the end of the footboard.

He sat on the bed beside her, laptop resting on his thigh. He pulled that mask up over his face, tossing it to the bed beside her. 

“Look for yourself,” Rhys snarled, shoving the open messages on the screen in front of her face. “Look and see how much he loves you.”

There were a slew of messages between them, and yet Feyre’s eyes snagged only on one.

Kill her then. 

She waited to see if she’d cry, but nothing came. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not coming for you,” Rhys informed her, eyes bouncing over her face as if he were searching for something. “This is between us, and you’ve become collateral.”

“Then why don’t you kill me?” Feyre snapped, yanking at her ankles trapped in the leather cuffs. They were bondage cuffs, she realized, rather than handcuffs. 

“Why would I kill you?” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “Tamlin might not be mounting some heroic rescue, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t view you as his. His little toy to play with until he gets tired of her…” Rhys murmured, sliding the side of his finger along her neck. “I’m not supposed to touch.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I asked you not to leave,” he continued, ignoring her plea as his fingers made their way down her shoulder. “Left the door open so you knew you could move freely through the house. You’re so desperate to get back to him, but I know what he does to pretty little things like you. Where they end up. How their families mourn.”

“Stop,” she whispered, unsure which terrified her more—his touch, or the threat of what Tamlin might eventually do.

Rhys caught her wrist, binding it over her head before Feyre’s mind could catch up with his actions. She was wholly restrained and he was holding a knife as he walked around the bed. 

“You’re still bait,” he murmured, one hand sliding over a wooden bedpost. “He can see us right now, you know. He’s watching, hoping I’ll kill you before you tell me something you shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” she whispered, trying in vain to wriggle away. 

“If you didn’t know anything, he wouldn’t have responded at all. He’s slipped up—you know something,” Rhys declared, running the sharp edge of his blade across her leggings. The fabric snagged, ripping neatly from ankle to waistband.

“I swear I don’t,” she protested as cool air caressed over her now exposed thighs. He wasn’t done as he ruined that oversized blue sweater, too, leaving her in nothing but the shredded remains of fabric. Violet eyes swept over her now naked form and rather than sadistic amusement, Feyre swore she saw unguarded desire staring back at her.

“You do,” Rhys murmured, pausing between her legs. She tried to hide herself from view, but she was restricted by the restraints. “You just don’t remember.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” Rhys questioned, tossing his knife beside his mask. The weapon left a small impression atop the black duvet, sharp end pointing toward her ribcage as if to warn her not to try anything.

Feyre pulled against her restraints, for all the good it did her. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Rhys told her without moving. He did, however, gesture behind him to a wall half hidden in shadow. There, hanging in a gold frame, hung a familiar work of art. Her first ever painting sold—it was a moody seascape Tamlin had accused of being cliche. She’d been brand new, and yet talented enough to be accepted into a showing where an anonymous buyer had overpaid for it.

Feyre still had that first check tucked away in a desk drawer, and when she felt overwhelmed or dejected, she’d pull it out to look at. That same buyer had purchased something from every collection she’d done, always paying far more than she was asking. 

“That was you?”

“I have an eye for beautiful things you know,” he informed her, his gaze a brand against her skin. 

“You’re jealous?”

“Desperately,” he replied without irony. “It’s always been like that between us. He has everything I want.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to tell him not to do this, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. 

“He’s watching,” Rhys told her, glancing over his shoulder. “Keeps hacking into my system to see what you’re doing. Will you smile for him, Feyre? Let him think you’re happy?”

“Just let me go,” she pleaded as her captor slid to his knees between her legs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t,” he murmured, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “I want to keep you.”

Alive, was the unspoken word between them. Did he realize that was a low bar? A bar already set in hell, so far beneath his feet there ought to be no trouble clearing it. And yet…Feyre turned her head as he kissed up his leg, stomach tight from anxiety. 

“Like this?”

He shrugged. “I’d untie you, but I think you’d kill me with your bare hands if I did.”

“I think you’d like it,” she shot back, squirming when she felt his warm breath tease between her legs. 

“I’m hard just thinking about it,” he agreed with a grin. 

His tongue slid up the center of her pussy before Feyre could think of a good comeback. She yelped, trying—and failing—to escape the feeling. It had been too long since someone had done this for her, which was how Feyre explained the bolt of lust racing through her. He didn’t stop, eyes pinned to her face to see if she liked what he was doing.

Feyre was resolved not to react. Men always tired of this act after a minute or two, doubly so when they weren’t being catered to on their back, but instead forced to kneel. It was easy, at least in the beginning, to ignore his tongue teasing her clit. She thought about how cold the snow had been when she’d fallen out the window and reminded herself he’d shoved her in a trunk. That he was a killer, too, and toying with her boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend. Feyre wasn’t really sure what they were anymore. She supposed they were over, given he’d told Rhys to kill her. Feyre’s eyes slid to the camera in the corner of the room and somehow, she could feel him watching. Could feel his anger, too—as if this were all her fault. As if she’d kidnapped herself, tied herself up, and was now being forced into pleasure, too.

Are you happy now? Feyre wanted to scream it. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys growled, forcing her to look back down at him. How long had it been, anyway? Her body hummed at the loss of contact, proving that though she was trying not to feel anything, she couldn’t block him out entirely.

“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.

“All my time belongs to you now,” was his frustrating reply. He returned his tongue back to her pussy and this time, though she tried, Feyre couldn’t refocus on anything but his touch. It was all wrong—his mask lay on the bed, the knife still pointed toward her, inches away from her exposed skin.

For all she knew, he was lying to her and would kill her when he finished.

“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling on her restraints.

“Come, then,” he said in response, his voice muffled. 

Feyre didn’t want to come. For a while, she writhed against her restraints until he physically pinned her to the bed, holding her still so he could continue his slow torture. Feyre thought he liked when she fought him—that he wanted to bring her under submission. She held herself back, whimpering from the effort as she counted in her head. 

“Do you need a distraction?” Rhys murmured when he heard her reciting the ingredients to a recipe. “Something to turn off that meddling brain of yours?”

“No,” she gasped, but he was on his feet, hands undoing his dark trousers. “I don’t need—I’m fine, I’ll finish—”

“I know you will,” he replied, pulling his long, thick cock from his pants. Feyre couldn’t not look at it as Rhys moved around the bed, extending his restraints so he could reposition her. Feyre fought him, slapping Rhys hard in the face when he undid her arms. He grunted but didn’t react other than to sigh, his frustration plain. With the longer rope, he could tie her hands to the bedposts without overextending her arms while her head now hung off the edge of the bed.

“I won’t,” she informed him.

“You will,” Rhys replied, pinching her nose when she pressed her lips together. As he waited for her to take a breath, he rubbed his cock over her cheek while his other hand slid across her breasts to play with her nipples.

Feyre tried—oh, how she tried—but in the end, she had to take a gasping breath of air. He pushed the head of his cock between her teeth, not caring when sensitive flesh scraped roughly against the jagged edges. The hand that had once pinched her nose now held her throat, squeezing just enough to warn her not to try and bite. 

She did anyway.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned, taking his knife and resting it on her stomach. Feyre didn’t believe he’d use it until he took the hilt and began using the smooth silver to tease against her clit.

She couldn’t argue with him, mouth filled with his cock. She widened her jaw to take a breath as he angled his hips, pushing himself further until he was backed up against her throat. Feyre gagged lightly, praying he wouldn’t keep going. 

She didn’t want to throw up.

Clearly neither did Rhys. Groaning softly, he whispered, “You suck so well.”

She wasn’t doing anything, really—Rhys moved his hips, setting the pace so he could fuck her mouth. Feyre screamed around him when she felt him push the hilt of the knife into her body so he, too, could fuck her with it. He’d been right about one thing—sucking his cock kept her focused on what was happening between her legs. She could think of nothing else, her mind torn between the air coming into her lungs and what Rhys was currently doing with his mouth. 

With his legs spread, he’d returned to licking her clit, focused wholly on that and nothing else. How did he not cut himself on the blade, she wondered as she tried to wriggle the knife out of her pussy.

It didn’t work. Whatever he was doing, he was skilled. Feyre was reacting, her body tightening around the hilt of the blade thanks to the skill of his tongue. Rhys groaned when she sucked in more air than she’d meant to, lips forming a seal around his shaft.

“Just like that baby,” he moaned before picking up his pace. She was going to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Feyre tried, eyes leaking from the cock bruising her throat as saliva dripped down her neck. He was going to come, too.

Quick, she realized with some relief. He was timing himself with her, well aware she was close to completion. At least he wouldn’t draw it out? Or he had something else planned. Feyre didn’t know.

Didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit that this was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. How fucked up was it that she hadn’t been able to get off for months, and now, tied up and forced, she was careening toward the sort of pleasure that threatened to unmake her. Was this how stockholm syndrome worked? Her body, flooded with pleasure, began to think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here with him.

“Keep sucking,” Rhys moaned again, his hips losing some of their controlled rhythm. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. Feyre sucked around him, though she refused to move her head and help him.

Rhys licked faster, moving in precise circles until her hips began to roll into him, chasing the inevitable. Feyre clenched, finding purchase on the hilt of the blade. Rhys rubbed it just against the perfect spot, his tongue unwavering and Feyre was undone. She screamed around his cock, body bowing off the bed and directly into his mouth. She heard him curse though she didn’t care, half ruined from the pleasure now ribboning through her. Feyre was a star, white hot as it erupted over a silent sky.

She’d forgotten, just for a second, he still had his cock buried in her throat. With a twitching jerk, Rhys came into her throat, his come spilling out the sides of her mouth to join the mess of spit pooling along her collarbone. 

Panting, he pulled himself out of her to show her the knife coated in her own release and dripping with blood. His blood, she realized with alarm, noting the gash sliced over his palm.

“I got too excited,” he breathed, wiping it over her naked breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Untie me,” she whispered, tugging against the restraints. “Please, untie me—”

Despite his injured hand, Rhys was quick about it, undoing her hands first, and then her feet. She’d told herself she was going to hit him for what had just happened, but instead Feyre merely sat up while he stepped out, half naked from the waist down, only to return with a warm rag he used to wipe up the mess of come and blood. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her against his chest. 

Feyre looked up at him, unsure if she believed him. “Tamlin told you to.”

“I wouldn’t kill my worst enemy to satisfy him.”

She swallowed. “And…if I wanted to kill him?”

Rhys grinned. “Say less, pretty baby. Say less.”

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 25 Commentary

“難受嗎？難受就對了[...]卓大人，你習慣就好。” Is it difficult to bear? Good [...] Zhuo Daren, you'd better get used to it. —Zhao Yuanzhou, Ep. 1

Oh my god what the fuck ep 25. Ohhh my god. I don't think I ever stopped going "holy shit oh fuck" for the entire forty minutes. My head is in my hands. Why is FoF experimenting with onscreen physical/emotional/mental whump at a frequency and intensity previously unknown to man? To my favorite character? 我前輩子得罪了誰？？(Who did I wrong in my previous life??)

Quote from ep 1 because I had just re-watched it earlier in the day and those words came back to me not with any particular use towards interpretation but just as a characterization of—all of this. It is indeed difficult to bear.

Spoilers incoming.

Also spoiler for how I feel about this episode in case the sound of me wailing in lament in the distance makes it unclear: It was probably one of the most effective episodes for me thus far, personally. It struck many, many chords and did not stop for breath at all.

Honestly I'm kind of at a loss for words because I really, truly, did not expect shit would get so much worse for ZYC so incredibly rapidly. The speed with which the situation deteriorated broke the fucking sound barrier (I'm exaggerating, I'm being dramatic, but jfc I wasn't prepared). I apologize in advance if any of my reactions become a little bit repetitive, there are only so many ways I can express continuous distress and shock and despair.

My stomach dropped during the watchman attack scene. I can't believe how effective it was for me, this moment coming at the heels of ep 24, how that episode was a whole meditation on the goodness of ZYC's heart, his gentle and sensitive nature, the reasons why everyone loves him, the way things are bad but they will not break us and we may lose heart individually but we will persevere together.

And then in one single moment, all of that is threatened and very nearly destroyed. I felt every one of ZYC's dry heaves.

This drama is not one I necessarily go to for subtlety of intention, so the fact that I really had no inkling how at-risk ZYC's irreproachability would be in the coming episode despite being very invested in his arc made it all the more shocking and well-done, personally. They set him up as high as they could so they could tear him down as thoroughly as possible in an instant, and I did not notice the set-up at all.

I also have to say, I really appreciate PSJ. How quickly she cut to the chase about what he'd seemingly done, how she'd said the things that aren't just hard to hear but also hard to say. Because that's exactly what ZYC will care the most about. It seems to me her righteousness helped keep his own intact. In such a moment of complete and utter vulnerability and devastation, her moral clarity is as terrible as it is necessary and true to ZYC's belief system, just when it is most susceptible to collapse. And I say this not to mean that I think he is culpable for the supposed attack, given how much discussion the show goes into about culpability or lack thereof when not in one's right mind, but just that I find PSJ's moral compass to most closely align with ZYC's beliefs as he has been carrying them out throughout the show, and she keeps him from contradiction in a moment when it may be on everyone else's mind to spare him from the double-edged blade of his own righteousness. (Also, I may be reading too far into WX's statement later on that PSJ protected ZYC with her decision, but it could be interpreted that WX agrees or understands that as well on some level.)

And the fucking fact that all this takes place in front of a shrine for the Righteous God of Virtue and Blessing. As I said, I'm speechless.

(Speechless, she says, as she continues to ramble.)

Ouughhhhhh the reversals. ZYZ draping the cloak on ZYC this time. Fuck. The dungeon. Oh god. The way ZYZ loses more and more of his facade of calm, even just from his somewhat tense but understated distress in ep 24 to this unblinking, almost unseeing stare at ZYC in shackles.

Also, I'm glad for the moment PSJ and WX have to themselves once ZYZ proves ZYC's innocence. The way we get to see them navigating a situation so dire together despite its potential to push them utterly apart. PSJ's near-silent delivery of "friend" fucking kills me. It's loaded with so much emotion that neither the voice nor the term can truly handle that weight. That's art to me.

And then oh god, the Tianxiang Pavilion scene. I don't even know what to say. How everything spirals completely out of control. How we literally watch ZYC's worst nightmares play out. WX's first shout, the way I don't feel like I've heard that particular shade of emotion in her voice up until now, even with everything they've been through. Honestly, each of their expressions as the mob began to jeer and before they were separated was so effective. Ying Lei's indignation, PSJ's alarm, ZYZ's agitation, WX's fury. And the palpable panic as the crowd surged around them and pulled them apart.

I've watched this whole scene three times now. Every actor is giving their all here, and it's so impressive because this isn't at all the usual context of their angst and heartbreak. This isn't a decisive battle over life and death. The range of tragedy stretches so far in this kind of fantastical drama and yet they are able to create such tension and emotion that the shock of that first egg thrown has all the impact of a fatal wound. And it's worse in some ways because it means so little to an outsider and everything to this family.

That rage and helplessness in WX as she wipes ZYC's face and asks who threw it, when she says if the crowd goes any further, they'll fight back—her delivery is so raw. When I heard her lines, I felt the fantasy genre completely slip away for a moment and it became absolutely personal. Like, this point is getting a little away from mere commentary so please forgive the brief aside but those are words I can hear in my own family's voices.

Then, watching the very last vestiges of ZYZ's composure fully crumble away in real-time. God, I wish I could say something more substantive about ZYZ's entire reaction because it's so so good but I'm feeling levels of angst I truly don't know how to convey, which is really saying something given how much of an essay I usually write despite claiming I'm speechless.

Just. The way this is the most desperate and near-breaking we have ever seen them, in a completely different manner than the grief that has come before.

Alright, and then, the juxtaposition of the mob and the cheering crowd around ZYC?—yeah, that's when I started sobbing. As I've said before, the effectiveness, the efficiency, of TJR's acting. The way we can read every emotion off of young ZYC's face: his awkward pride, his self-consciousness, his bashful happiness. Even though this is a memory only recently and fleetingly alluded to in the previous episode and this is a ZYC we have never actually met, we know him and all his mannerisms and expressions so well. He is so alive with his character and so familiar, and then we cut back and, god, how unrecognizable everything is now. That absolutely broke me.

Finally, ZYC and Li Lun's conversation. Again, so so good and again, not sure I can offer much substance in my commentary to do it enough justice. I've been writing this commentary for over three hours now, so if my coherence is petering out, I do apologize.

This is so much of what I wanted and didn't even know I wanted from them, simply because they've been kept apart by the plot for so long. To see some of this come to pass is so satisfying. For Li Lun to claw so desperately at ZYC and try to bring him down, what that means about how he views ZYC's role in ZYZ's life right now. That this is twofold, to ruin ZYC and to be understood, and how he can never get the latter if he is still holding onto the former, wanting to pull others into the abyss rather than seeking a way to perhaps be pulled out of it. Li Lun is so precise in his brutality towards ZYC, digging his fingers directly into the worst of ZYC's fears, and yet ZYC is so insanely clear-eyed and incorruptible and incisive with his words in a way Li Lun has never experienced or had to combat (ZYC, articulate king fr). And for all of Li Lun's bluster as he continually makes to take the physical and conversational upper hand, how quickly that becomes a pitiful immaturity when ZYC truly fights back (in defense of ZYZ). Yan An plays this part so well, when he's looking up at ZYC.

And seriously, talk about ZYC delivering just the most on point monologues to struggling characters ever (ZYZ, Bai Jiu, now Li Lun), and doing all that after the day he's had?? To be honest, I don't know what direction this conversation will push Li Lun. I can see it go either way because yeah ZYC just basically rubbed in his face how alone and pitiable he is and how he'll never get what he wants out of ZYC, but at the same time I've never seen Li Lun so close to understanding why he has ended up alone, nor look so desperate enough to not be that he might end up making a different choice for himself. And just as Li Lun is that mirror showing ZYC the darkness of the abyss, ZYC must be reflecting to Li Lun how bright the dawn could be. (Oh the inextricable nature of character foils.) Even though ZYC has denied Li Lun the understanding he wants, he has seen through Li Lun so thoroughly that that is an understanding in itself.

And then oh my god. The reverting to Bai Jiu's voice and body. One of the most top-tier narrative choices ever. Li Lun, deconstructed by ZYC completely, is really so unbearably young in his heartache.

Okay, I think that's all I have to offer. I'm so wrung out, and I apologize if the quality of the commentary declined in the second half, but I hope some of this was enjoyable to read!

[absolutebl]

I've been out of the bl loop for a while (give or take a year tbh) and I am honestly overwhelmed at all the stuff coming up recently in bl... Is there top five you'd suggest from the past year among thai stuff (the rest bl-producing countries have a manageable lists of releases ig)

Thank you so much for your time and patience! :D

Top 5 Thai BLs from the past year? (2024)

Well it's a contentious field and there has been a lot, so I'll narrow it further and give you 2024 so far, from my personal favorites but specifically ones that I believe added to the zeitgeist in some significant way.

The Sign

YouTube

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN.

Cherry Magic (Thai remake)

Grey

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team (at GMMTV) and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up). Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stands strong. I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Century of Love

Gaga

This is a very pretty drama about a young man who fell in love with a nice girl 100 years ago, and when she died in his arms, he was cursed to live until he could meet her reborn self. Only this time around, she’s reborn into the body of a man. Or is she? I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and shizz. I like this pair (it’s not DaouOffroad’s fault I didn’t enjoy their first series.) Daou’s wushu is snazzy and we got a unique meet cute. (Erm… Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?) Ultimately, this is I Feel You Linger in the Air + First Love Again, rather than (as one might expect) Until We Meet Again or The Director Who Buys Me Dinner. The leads turned in great performances, although Daou outclassed everybody else on that screen. It’s a good story and a great BL and I can’t find any major faults with it beyond a certain level of camp that is sadly endemic to lakorns. It was, to put it succinctly, a VERY ENJOYABLE show. 

Wandee Goodday

YouTube

This is the only "typical" BL I'll be recommending on this list and that's because this is such a FUN show. A charming quintessentially modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL. It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. With out question it's best traits are active positive representations of green flag boys, communication, and grown-up relationships but the chemistry is on point too. Highly recommended as one of 2024's best pick-me-ups. (We need it, been a bit of a downer year.)

We Are

iQIYI

If Wandee Goodday is your happy pill, We Are is the warmest hug on the planet. Of the ones on this list, this is the only one I've already rewatched. 2x (High praise!) I loved show. It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 6) but I’m so glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial. Essentially this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. It’s not being harsh with us or it’s characters the way some offerings of this ilk have been (side eyes Friend Zone and Only Friends) nor did it tumble into Gen Y chaos. In fact, this reminded me more than anything of a refined and elevated Love Sick - just with older characters and occurring within a genre that has matured too. In it's own quiet way, it was groundbreaking. It has that close queer friendship group meets earnest gentleness that made me adore Love Sick and Make It Right so much. In other words, this was Thai BL at its finest, finding it roots again 10 years on, but also stretching upwards and showing us what it could do with that original seed. So? I adored it. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit.

I hope you give these 5 a chance.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

anything but worthy [pt.2]

This is reposted from my ao3!

[SFW Arthur Morgan] tags: omegaverse

Ever since you were a teenager, you've loved romance books. First you pretended to hate them, and still occasionally do, but for all the tropes that you’ve scorned, there’s something inherently addicting about them, too.

You shared this little obsession with Mary-Beth, and as such, occasionally shared each other’s novels. She was an aspiring writer, you knew, and as an avid consumer, she’d appreciate your tips and critiques. But if there was one thing you couldn’t share, it was how much more you fantasized compared to her.

Pride and Prejudice was lovely, really – a testament to the change people will go through because they love someone. Romeo and Juliet was more of a tragedy, and while you understood the political metaphor, as a story, it felt a little too juvenile. There were the non-romances, too – Robinson Crusoe, Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. Hell, you’d even read Charles C. Chestnutt, since you were so invested in the politics of the time. Equality for everyone, past the bare minimums of the Civil War! 

But, on some level, you didn’t want the sensical. You didn’t want things that made sense – you craved suspension of disbelief. You craved something more primal, something that could be set aside from the sociopolitics of everyday life – something private, and personal, and perhaps a little… perverted.

Ugh. Putting it like that made you sound like you needed church.

(And perhaps you did.)

– but that wasn’t the point!

The point was – that for the past year, you’d been miraculously saved by a big strong mountain man, and now, in a time when women only had the options of marriage, elementary schooling, or prostitution, you had been swept into the wild drama of a gang of outlaws. This in itself was perfect romance material!-- if not perfect – ugh – Victorian erotica material.

(Because yes, those existed – though you certainly wanted something better than a couple dozen pages written from the perspective of a fucking flea.)

Now Arthur Morgan, in particular, was perfect romance material. You and Mary-Beth – and even Tilly – yes, Tilly! – had agreed as such. John was taken, Sean and Bill both idiots – though Karen would probably settle for the former. Javier was a romantic with a lovely voice, but you didn’t know him all too well, and Charles was almost too quiet. (Again, almost – he was handsome and kind and patient.) Dutch was taken, Hosea was more of a father, but Arthur – Arthur – he was a perfect mix of rough and sentimental. A perfect mix of rugged and gentle.

Though you might have underestimated just exactly how rough he could be.

Not to mention that he was an alpha – the greatest one in the pack, even above Dutch, you’d decided.

Admittedly, you didn’t notice at first – notice how often he looked at you, at least. You noticed his strength right away of course, and how much of a leader he could be when necessary, but it took Mary-Beth and Tilly and Karen – all of them – to make you realize he had taken a liking to you.

“God, you’re oblivious as hell, ain’tcha?” Karen had said one evening, throwing her hands up in the air. “The man’s been eyeing you like a piece of meat!”

“Now, I wouldn’t say a piece of meat–” Mary-Beth countered with a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. “More like a… a male lead!”

“A male– a fuckin’ what now?”

Tilly giggled in the background, covering her smile with her hand. “You know, Karen, like the main love interests in Mary-Beth’s books.”

The blonde made a face, scrunching up her nose. “You know I don’t read that shit. Too sappy for me.”

“It’s not… ‘shit,’” you defended with a smile, albeit an understanding one, but seeing Mary-Beth pout, you had to say something. “They’re pretty good in my opinion.”

“Oh, don’t you dare change topics with me, girly,” Karen scolded, rolling her eyes. “Either way, you know what we mean!”

 Actually, you didn’t – not until then. It was hard to believe a man like that could like you. But ever since that conversation, you found yourself looking over your shoulder more, darting your eyes in Arthur’s direction to try and catch him in the act. For the longest time, however, he seemed normal – busy with something else, not even close to facing you. You had nearly given up when, one night, when the gang was celebrating a successful job with drinks, that you looked up to see blue eyes staring you down, laced with a certain expression halfway between affection and lust.

That day, you looked away, red face hidden in the darkness. But from then on, with his whatever toward you confirmed, a returned interest had started to grow. And boy, did you try to hook him.

It started with simpler gestures, really – an odd form of courtship since you were shy and he just felt so big compared to life. You’d do all his laundry, hand him coffee or stew, or leave him a newly repaired shirt on the table by his bedside. One time, you even managed to scourge together enough money to buy him a new ink pen. Your excuse?-- that if he kept writing in his journal with pencil, the graphite would rub the letters clean off one day. And you knew how much his writing and drawing meant to him, even if he denied any form of intelligence.

But it took another few months before you’d finally gathered the courage. The courage to ask him to stay with you, through the heat – during your heat. But–

“I am anythin’ but worthy of that honor, little girl.”

The response made your heart sink, and for a moment, you thought that was that.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky. “I just thought it would be nice – me and you.”

You felt like a little girl, trembling quietly in the night.  All that staring and time wasted – but it was just staring, not him actually planning to act on you. Well, now you just felt a little silly, too. Silly little omega. What kind of omega chases an alpha – not the other way around?

“I guess I’ll just ask Sadie or Miss Grimshaw to go with me again. Or maybe Karen, ‘cause she can handle a gun, too.”

But before you can disappear into the darkness, escape the vicinity and curl up – cry yourself to sleep – he speaks up again, explaining himself.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, omega. I don’t wanna hurt you. That’s all.”

“Oh, Arthur. I’d be okay if it were you.”

Something shifted that evening. And you parted ways with a better understanding.

The following day, the girls helped you pack – Miss Grimshaw being helpful in particular. She’d made sure some herbs for soothing tea was going with you, and had the others wrap up enough blankets for comfort. There was a tower, the older woman explained, back up north in the Grizzlies – nice and cool to keep your fever from being unbearable, yet not quite buried in layers of snow. Compared to the humid mists of Lemoyne, it sounded like sheer paradise. Arthur himself had scouted it out while on one of his trips, and after tidying up the place a bit, deemed it a safehouse for omegas like you, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. (And Kieren, too, but the boy didn’t like to admit it.) 

But when you expected Miss Grimshaw herself to hop onto the wagon with you, instead of a woman with makeup too gaudy for her features, you heard a rough groan as a man clad in brown leather pulled himself up to sit at your side.

“Er, Arthur, this is my wagon,” you said, dumbfounded, brain not quite working.

“Yup, I know.”

He cracked the reins, getting the horses to start their little trotting.

“It’s– it’s my wagon. I’m not going to town, you– you know that, right?”

“Yup. I know.”

You stare a few more seconds, stare hard, then sink into your seat, facing forward.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

You hear faint laughter from behind you and raise your head to look over your shoulder, where you see the girls waving – grinning – and Karen hooting and hollering, knowing how things were likely to go. 

“Why– why did you change your mind?” you ask, breathless, gripping your hands tight in your lap. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just thought about it last night. Thought– hell– once thought no one would have me. Then some pretty girl shows up an’-- well– guess your words hit a chord last time we talked.”

“Arthur, nobody in their right mind wouldn’t have you.”

The rest of the trip is spent in relative quiet, your mind busy processing the fact that Arthur would be staying. The stop at Rhodes for food was brief, the pass through Emerald Ranch even briefer. Then it was up to O’Creagh’s Run, where Arthur stopped by an old man’s cabin. The man had spared you a knowing smile, clapped Arthur on the back, offered to take you both fishing later, then sent you your way.

After that, it was just a little roundabout trip to avoid the steep parts of the mountain range, and soon, you two were passing into a clearing where a log tower came into view. It was a sturdy, impossibly pristine place, likely recently abandoned. A nearby campfire was still smoldering, but Arthur noted that people rarely passed through. Ambarino was a scarce place after all, with few homesteads and little reason to visit. And – on the off chance some other alpha was too nosy for their own good – the top of the tower provided ample range for Arthur to threaten them off with a gun.

Settling in, you were starting to feel the haze of your heat, but luckily, Arthur had given you some privacy to prepare. He waited outside, by the campfire, scavenging through the leftovers of the former occupants to see if they’d abandoned any cans of food. In the meantime, you’d bundled up your extra blankets and pillows, 

Once overcome by the sweltering heat of Lemoyne, now the cold of the Grizzlies has drifted through the opening at the top of the tower, allowing the cool air to sink and settle around you, and paired with the blankets still lightly scented with the smell of fellow omegas, it begins to slowly you into a sense of security. The stove can be turned on later if needed, to warm both some food and you – but for now, the temperature is satisfactory, and in your chemise, the urge to sleep is instant. You don’t even fight it. Within minutes, you’re drifting off into peaceful nothingness.

And that’s when the sound of a gunshot awakens you.

“Arthur?”

You call out his name in the dead quiet, clutching the blankets close. Your heat is on the edge of full force, and you’re just barely lucid enough to stand. Which you do.

“Arthur?” you repeat, bare feet falling in succession on the wooden floor.

Then it hits you – the swarm of what felt like dozens of other scents. The disgusting mixture of chalk and rotten food, pungent chemicals, and more. But somewhere in the middle, there’s the familiar smell of leather – the warmth of whiskey, and the freshness of rain.

And you notice – it’s raining.

There’s no more gunshots, not that you can hear, but now there’s the sound of a struggle outside. Gasps and coughs and grunts, among the sound of fists landing hard on flesh and bone. You flinch repeatedly at each blow and finally decide to peek through the window, where in the dark of night, you can barely make out the silhouettes of several people.

Two bodies lie still in the grass, water gathering in the wrinkles of their shirts. Three more are standing – one, you make out to be Arthur, while the other two are clearly trying to beat him to a pulp.

Emphasis on trying.

With a well placed kick to the gut, Arthur sends another one flying, and now it’s just him and the seemingly equally large man left.

You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make a good guess. Why else would a group of alphas swarm to one spot when an omega’s in heat? The thought makes you sick, and you cover your mouth, slumping against the wall by the window and forcing the bile down. 

It takes seemingly forever, but after a while, the sound dies down. One more glance out the window confirms that Arthur is the only one left standing – because of course he is – and the sight of his outline, standing against the bright of far-off lightning strikes, shoulders rising and falling with every labored breath – it makes you want to crawl right into his arms.

But as you open the door and the full strength of your scent floods down the path towards him, his body goes rigid. There’s something wrong.

“Arthur?” you call out a third time. Then a pause.

“... Arthur?”

He turns, and you see the spots of red splattered across his face. There’s this wild look in his eye – not the mix of affection and lust that you’d seen so long ago, but the pure animalistic drive of alpha pheromones. In the rain, the scent hits you. Yes – leather. Whiskey. The smell of dust after rain.

The heat pools in your blood, but so, too, does your body call you to run.

And you do.

_

Oh, you want the third part? The lovely, lovely smut? Check out my ao3

[midnightlizard]

Christmas help

Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Summary: basically the plot of Hawkeye, but with reader as Kate's partner

Warnings: Hawkeye spoilers, angst with a happy ending, some curse words

Word count: 5256

-

-

"okay I know it may sound crazy, but you have to believe me"

"why wouldn't I believe you?"

"well, because this is really crazy"

"Kate honey, we've been together for a while, I think I’m used to your level of craziness." You shrugged your shoulders.

"no-ugh" She removed one hand from her pocket to grab your wrist and pull you into a less crowded street, which was hard considering it was Christmas time. "this time, it was crazy for me too. I met...an avenger"

At this you widened your eyes. A thing that not many people knew, your girlfriend being one of them, is that you were the newest avenger, fighting crimes for almost five years now, but the other avengers agreed that with you still being a student it was safer to hide your identity. You trusted them not to tell random people who you were, but the thought did cross your mind.

"excuse me, you met who? Who did you meet?" You might already knew the answer by the excitement on her face, but you still wanted a confirmation.

"I met Hawkeye" she whisper-yelled "you could say we're partners now"

"partners...with Clint?"

"yea I figured he's not the most social person in the world but we, wait" she suddenly stops, confusion on her face "how do you know his name?"

...

Shit

"you remember the whole ultron thing? all the avengers' informations got leaked, i read his name" You shrugged. Thank god for those drama classes and quick thinking. "how did you meet him?" you changed the subject, and she seemed to fall into your trap.

"do you remember that charity thing my mom hosted right? turns out there was a big illegal auction and, you know Ronin? yea his suit was there and the tracksuit mafia wanted to buy it but I stole it before they could, I didn't want it I didn't know it was there, I was there just because my mom forced me to go, you know I don't like the parties my mom throws-"

"Kate" you stopped her messy rant, repeating your question. "how did you meet Clint?"

She nodded, collecting her thoughts before speaking again. "Clint knows Ronin wants his suit back, but we first have to take down these people, and it's better if we do it before Christmas because he made a promise to his family to be celebrate it with them."

You sighed, that was typical of Clint, he wouldn't leave if he knew a civilian was in danger. You never heard of this tracksuit mafia, but if it wanted Ronin, it's not something to joke about.

"that's why you have those cuts on you face?"

"yea we got into -a kind of- a fight, after we...got kidnapped, well he did. I just followed him." she responded hesitantly.

"Kate!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I had to help him. And yes I should have told you but that's why I called you. I wanted to spend a little time with you while I grabbed something to eat." she raised the bag she was holding.

"let's go home, you need to take care of those wounds" you said, knowing she doesn't know how to do that.

"wait let's go to my aunt's place, I told Clint I would bring some food."

- - - -

"Clint? I'm back!" Kate called, closing the door after letting you in "oh right he can't hear" she continued once she didn't get a response.

Said man raised his head from the newspaper he was holding when he saw movement. Once your eyes locked, his seemed to widen. With you being behind Kate, you were able to shake your hand and put a finger on your lips, hoping he would catch the signal.

"Kate why did you bring a friend? You know this is dangerous, they need to go home." Thank god he caught it.

"no no listen, I mean-" she took a notebook from the table and started writing on it 'they're my partner, (Y/N), I trust them completely and they can handle themselves'

Clint stared at the words for a moment, before rolling his eyes while nodding.

"woah..okay thanks, I thought it would have taken more convincing..." The brunette muttered under her breath. Well...he's better at doing his job than being an actor.

While she went to put the groceries in the kitchen, you signed to Clint 'I'll explain later'

He didn't have time to reply when his phone started ringing. Kate re-entered the room to help him, but you were already by the man's side, signing what Nathaniel was saying.

"uh yeah it's...tonight is movie marathon night, that's right, um I really wish I could be there with you" You and Kate exchanged looks, you could see a glimpse of guilt and worry in her eyes before he continued.

"I think I'll be back in the next day or so in time for our ugly Christmas sweater party. I'll be there buddy"

There was silence on both ends after that, before Nathaniel spoke again, "I love you dad"

You started signing but Clint beat you to it and responded with 'I love you more'.

When the call ended he nodded as a thanks and went into another room. Kate turned to look at you "I didn't know you knew sign language"

You put your hands in your pockets, a light nervousness clear in your voice "well, yeah because I never told you, I was mute for almost five years when I was a kid. Selective mutism to be exact."

She forrowed her eyebrows "I didn't know that either- why didn't I know that?"

You sighed, shaking your head "it's just a small part of my past, one I would prefer not to remember, that's all" before she could respond, you interrupted. "let me mend those wounds."

- - - -

"you want to go to your mother's house? And you want me to come along?" after taking care of kate, you repaired Clint's hearing device, Tony taught you how to, since you and him often had missions together. And now the adult archer was able to listen to your conversation.

"yes, (Y/N). Clint knows what we're looking for and I know all the passwords, we need you to alert us if my mom comes back before the time, entertain her until we are done."

"I don't know Kate...your mom doesn't like me. With what excuse am I into her house? 'oh hi miss Bishop I was just waiting for your daughter and instead of knocking I decided to just break into your house, but oh! would you like a cup of tea? a long cup of tea?' you don't even live there" you tried to explain your point, hoping she would see it.

"they're right Kate, we can't bring them into our mess, it's already bad enough that you are. I can't protect both of you." she was about to rebut but eventually closed her mouth, nodding her head.

"I'll let you two to your mission then." you announced, rising from your spot on the couch. Kate raised too, accompanying you to the door.

Once you arrived, you took her hands in yours, raising you voice just a bit so that clint could hear what you were about to say but not enough to let the girl in front of you notice "call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be ready"

"God I hope I won't need any more help" she mutterd making the both of you chuckle.

"I'll se you soon. Don't be too reckless, follow Clint's orders, please" and to prevent one of her stubborn comebacks, you put your lips on hers, kissing her softly.

"bye kid." shouted the man from the other room after a few minutes, effectively scaring the two of you.

"uh yea, bye Mr. Clint! bye Kate" you got out of the apartment. "I'll text you later, promise" she made a kissy face before shutting the door.

- - - -

You don't know how much time has passed since you last saw your girlfriend, trusting Clint to take care of her you decided to catch up on sleep all day. But it was now nighttime and you were doing a report of your last mission to give Fury as soon as it was completed.

Truth be told, it was more of a distraction, you were worried for the two of them but at the same time you knew how distracting and dangerous a sudden phone call could be. So you just had to wait and hope for the best.

A few minutes later you finished your report, your phone started ringing, '<my archer3' on the screen. Needless to say, you instantly responded. "Kate? oh my God, are you okay? Clint-"

"(Y/N)-" a word was all that it took to make you stop. Her voice...cracked. Her voice never cracks, always so confident and steady. "can I, can I come over? Please" if you weren't so on alert you wouldn't have heard her last word.

"of course you can baby, where are you? You want me to pick you up?"

"no, there's no need, I'm almost there" you internally took note of her now slightly relaxed tone.

"okay, I'll wait for you"

- - - -

As soon as you opened the door she entered the house, throwing the bow on the couch. While she was pacing around, fidgeting with her hands you took in her appearance. Her clothes were dirty and she looked sweaty, but most of all exhausted.

You stepped in her personal space, taking her cheeks in your hands to make her look at you. "Kate, how about you take a shower, there are some clothes on the sink, and then you can tell me what's going on, how does that sound?"

Her gaze shifted between your eyes, before sniffing and softly nodding her head.

- - - -

Once she got out of the bathroom, wearing her pants and your sweater, she found you sitting on the couch and her now clean bow was on the armchair. Sensing her presence you raised your head from your phone, smiling.

"Hey, take a slice of pizza, I ordered it today, I can heat it up if you want"

The archer ignored the food on the coffee table, instead taking the phone from your hands, putting it in her pocket. She sat beside you on the couch, putting one of your arms around her shoulder, while she laid her head in the crook of you neck, sighing.

Combining your free hand through her damp hair, you remained quiet, waiting for her to talk.

"me and Clint fought, well kind of-" she took a deep breath before recollecting her thoughts. She told you everything that happened, from the fight on the roof to the meeting with the masked assassin in her apartment.

"wait, Natasha's sister? are you sure?" she took her head off her shoulder to look at you, nodding. Natasha rarely talked about Yelena and they were mostly just little comments, but still, a desire to kill her sister's best friend was not something you expected from the blonde.

"I tried to contact Clint multiple times to inform him but he never answered, I guess we really are not partners anymore" she began looking at her hands, but she raised her head again once she felt a kiss to her forehead.

"it's okay, we'll figure something out, he may look like a grumpy man tired of his job, but he wouldn't let a teenager in danger, knowing he could be of help."

You tried to reassure her, and it seemed like it worked, judging by the chuckle that escaped her mouth. "when you talk like that it seems like you personally know him."

"I'm...good at reading people, I guess" after a few seconds of silence you focused on her breathing, noticing how regular it was, lowering you head you confirmed your suspicions, she fell asleep.

Being as careful as possible you picked her up bridal style and brought her to you bedroom. When you laid her on the bed she unconsciously wrapped her arms around your neck, as to keep you there.

"I wasn't planning on leaving you here, anyway" you laid next to her, taking her back in your hold, now with her head on your chest. "goodnight, love" you softly kissed her hair and waited for an eventual sign. Receiving back none, you cautiously took you phone from her back pocket to contact the blonde avenger.

'I'm not takings sides'

'but you saw how helpful she can be'

'I can look after her while you do your thing'

You thought for a few seconds about your next words.

'just tell me if you need my help, please'

You sighed, putting your phone on the nightstand you closed your eyes, and thanks to Kate's light snores you were soon able to fall asleep.

- - - -

The next morning Kate decided to go to her mom's house to reassure her, and you were still in your house, since you didn't have any information on the situation there wasn't really much you could do, you found yourself waiting for your girlfriend's messages.

From Clint, nothing. But recently he read the texts you sent him, that'll do for now.

- - - -

It's been two days now and you were once again sitting on the couch watching a movie in complete silence. That was until someone knocked, no, literally broke into your apartment.

You jumped from your spot ready to attack the intruder but your favorite scent and two arms around your shoulders stopped you.

"I talked to him! I talked to him! We're good"

You grabbed her waist to tear yourself away from the jumping girl in front of you, bright smile on her lips.

"Kate, oh my- how-what- it's been two days, mind texting me sometimes?" she opened and closed her mouth before pouting.

"I texted you, they were just a random letter, but-but I did" she tried, ending the hug with her hands on you shoulders.

- - - -

"So, what's the next step?" the dark haired girl shook her head, putting her glass on the coffee table, picking up a slice of pizza instead.

"I can't tell you that, it's reserved." she responded with a professional exterior. You open your mouth in amusement and unbelief which made her throw her head back laughing. "I admit I shouldn't have told you anything at all, but you're my partner and I always want to tell you what happens in my life" she ended on a shy note, looking at the food.

You took a bite from her pizza before she could "come on, what could I do? call the bad guys and tell them your plan?"

"(Y/N) stop, I can't tell you, Clint told me not not to"

You furrowed your brows "he did?"

"...yea"

She surrendered with just a look.

"okay he didn't exactly say not to tell you, but it's better if you don't know. I want to keep you safe and- and stop eating my pizza" she put the palm of her hand on your forehead, pushing you away with a fake annoyed face.

Once she finished eating she rose from her seat. "I'll take a shower and we'll go to bed?"

"yes please, you really stink" you got a punch on the arm as a response.

"shut up, says the one who hugged me all night" she grabbed your cheeks, kissing you quickly, before exiting the room.

While you were putting away the pizza box you heard the ring coming from your phone. You took it from your pocket to read the message.

'eventually, are you free tomorrow night?'

You smirked.

'hello to you too, Barton'

'eventually yes, I am free tomorrow night'

- - - -

"Clint the tracksuit are here" Kate stated through her earpiece. She just got down the building thanks to the rope, trying to chase Yelena.

The avenger exposed himself to the window, looking around and muttered angrily "(Y/N) where the fuck are you?-"

"right here, what do I do?" you responded energetically, barely missing the arrow that was aimed at your face.

"woah! you should really recognize the voice, before randomly shooting, you know?" you took the arrow stuck on the wall, handing it to the man.

"you're late."

"technically you didn't give me a time so I can't be late, you just said tonight"

"(Y/N)." and his stern tone made you drop the jokes.

"right, okay. What do I do?" you repeated your question.

"I need you to help Kate, and if you take down the enemies on your way it would be appreciated." he didn't wait for an answer and marched out of the room.

You shook your head, making little jumps to accommodate the adrenaline in your body. You got down from the window, landing without a problem thanks to your powers.

You scanned the area, finding your girlfriend talking to Jack. Running towards her you landed a flying kick in the ribs to a man behind Kate, probably planning on hitting her with his metal bat.

You suddenly kneeled on the ground to avoid the bow, once again, aimed at your face. "I'm on your side, not need to attack me" you pointed a finger to her face. There was no need to change your voice, since the mask already did it for you.

"what are you doing here?"

You tried making up an excuse "uh well, Hawkeye called, said he needed my help."

She furrowed her brows, probably because he didn't tell her anything. "is that guy on our side? I saw you talking to him" you pointed in Jack's gerenal direction, even tho he was not there anymore.

"it's hard to explain, but yea he's with us" she got the words out after a short minute. You both got into action.

- - - -

After half an hour of fighting you find yourself on the ground, a man's hands on your neck, making it impossible for you to breathe.

You used you knee to hit him in the stomach, causing him to growl out in pain, giving you the opportunity to throw him on his back.

As you straddled him and gave him a punch to the side of his head, you heard Kate screaming, and instantly after, you felt a metal bat colliding with your head.

"oh my God!" the archer exclaimed running to you, after defeating your aggressor. The blow only brought you a sense of disorientation thanks to the mask's protection, but what you didn't know was that the voice changer mechanism was now broken.

"are you, are you okay?" she kneeled beside you, using one of her hands to support your shoulders.

"yeah, go back to the fight, I'll be fine in less than a minute." Kate's concern stopped for a second to let confusion settle in upon hearing your voice.

"your voice" even tho it was just a whisper, you were able to hear her, making you jump on your feet and far from the girl.

"see? All better now, let's go back" you said in an horrible fake voice, turning your back to distance yourself.

But Kate obviously didn't fall for your trick. So she called after you. "(Y/N)? Come back here, (Y/N)."

You slowly did as she said, suddenly hoping for a group of enemies to find you, but it seemed like they were on a coffee break.

The brunette took a few steps forward, until your bodies were only centimeters apart. Knowing it was useless to try and defend yourself, you let her put her hand on the base of your neck, to pull your mask off, revealing your face.

“You’re a superhero?”

"well, 'superhero' is a term used in comic books or movies, we don't really use that word in real life" seeing the roll of her eyes and her clenched jaw made you stop. You sighed. "yes."

"why didn't you tell me? You don't trust me enough?" you immediately shook your head, putting your hands in front of you. "of course not, love. It's not a matter of trust-"

"then what is it?" she looked away and sniffed, like she was about to cry. "and don't tell me it's because you wanted to protect me, or maybe it is? Maybe you think I'm so weak that I can't even protect myself?"

You closed your eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of your nose. She was just putting words in your mouth, making you snap.

“Here? You want to do this here?” you opened your arms wide as if to remind her of the situation you both were in.

She sniffed again, soflty nodding her head. "yeah, you're right, let's not talk about it anymore mh? Let's not talk about anything, anymore."

"come on, Kate you know that's not-" you tried grabbing her arm but she was already out of reach. You let out a loud puff, throwing your mask on the ground in frustration.

After a couple of minutes you hear steps behind you and you quickly grabbed your mask from the floor putting it back on, only to realize that the steps belonged to Clint.

"how is it going here, why is not Kate with you?" he was trying to avoid showing it but the worry on his voice was evident.

As much evident as your own trembling voice when you turned to look at him. "I don't know, she left. She found out and she just left. I couldn't get her to calm down and let me explain."

The man put a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. "(Y/N) stop. You're an avenger. You must put the safety of the civilians before your personal business." it was a stern thing to say, but he knew you needed an emotional slap to get back on track. He continued after seeing you nod. "when did she separate?"

You shrugged your shoulders "three to four minutes ago. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds." Clint smiled lightly seeing your somewhat normal behavior.

"Go help her kid. I'm rooting for you." you raised your eyebrows with a smile, even though he couldn't see your face.

"you are rooting for me? I'm must be fucked then." he jokingly pushed your shoulder with a muttered 'shut up'

- - - -

As you left Clint on his own, not knowing that soon after he met Yelena, you went to look for your girlfriend and heard her screaming from the other side of the road.

She was standing on the ground, with a really big man in front of her. He was leaning to give her another punch but your voice stopped him. "hey. You want to fight someone so bad? Fight me you coward"

Your courage flew out the window when he turned around, showing you his face. Kingpin. Clint told you something about him but seeing him in front of you was even worse.

"oh? Look who we have here to join us." he started with a smile full of malice "Listen kid, I'm not interested in you-" he stopped again, felling something touching his back.

What touched him was actually one of Kate's arrows.

She suddenly looked at you, with both fear and determination strong in her gaze. With a quick look at the arrows lying around in the shop, you knew her plan.

As soon as Kingpin turned to face the girl you jumped on his back, with your arms around his neck and your hands covering his eyes, Kate sprung into action and put the arrows down following her scheme.

Kingpin though, had no problem in grabbing you by the jacked and throwing you across the room, your back hit the wall and then your face met the floor making you growl out in pain.

This continued for some time, with you taking his hits, and Kate arranging her arrows on the floor. Running to hide behind some boxes, she called after you. "watch out!"

With the last breath of air you had left, you gave him a punch under his jaw, effectively causing him to release your neck. You used the time he spent looking at all the arrows laying around to get out of the building, but close enough to be able to look after Kate.

Then, there was a big glowy blue light and the man was the center of it. After a few minutes of silence you thought it was over, Kate thought it too, but you suddenly saw him coming at you.

You gulped, preparing to use your powers but before you could, a car hit Kingpin against the wall of the shop. You relaxed your arms, seeing Kate's mother exiting the vehicle.

You stayed on the side while they talked but you could hear what they were saying.

"is that what heros do? Arrest their mother on chirstmas." Those were the last words Eleanor spoke before a police agent took her away.

You looked to your side, suddenly noticing that kingpin was not there anymore. You wanted to go look for him but you averted your gaze when the archer marched towards you.

"go back to your house and mend those cuts I know you rarely do...god I should have known" she closed her eyes in realization "and all the little information you let slip out about Clint, you even repaired his hearing device for fuck's sake" she threw her hands in the air, shaking her head.

"Kate, I'm sorry. I-" you stopped when she held one finger up. "stop, I don't wanna hear it, I don't want to hear anything from you, I can't even look at you anymore."

She turned her head but you noticed the tears that begged to be let out, and you felt even worse than you already did. You tried to grab her arm but she took a step back.

" don't. I've had enough of being betrayed." that's all she said, before going away a second time, probably to look for Clint.

You sighed taking your phone and opened the chat with the avenger.

'she's coming to you'

'take care of her cuts please'

'merry Christmas'

You shook your head, blinking away the tears, going back to your house.

- - - -

It was now 4 a.m. in the morning and you didn't sleep, too busy replaying the events of the night in your head. You should have told her sooner, you trust her with you whole heart and you know she can protect herself, the worry just seemed to always win.

Suddenly you hear three knocks on your door.

"it's becoming a habit" you murmured as you went to see who it was.

"hi" there she stood with a timid smile on her lips.

"hey, come in" you closed the door after letting her in.

You were not going to lie, the other side of you was kinda angry at the archer, you just wanted her to let you explain. You crossed your arms.

She took a deep breath "okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way, it's just been a stressful week, you didn't tell me about you being mute and-"

"I said it's something I don't want to talk about."

"I know I know, and I completely understand, I'm just saying that so many things came together and-"

You sighed, you both said sorry and you both explained yourselves so there was no need to keep going. "I forgive you"

"Clint told me how important it is for some heros to keep their identity secret"

"Kate I said it's okay"

"and normally I wouldn't mind because I understand but-"

With her hands in yours you shut her up, with the help of a kiss "I said I forgive you". You pull away from her, chuckling. "God it is so hard to get you to listen."

“I still hate you, ya know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. "and for what?" you knew from the look in her eyes it was not going to be anything serious, and you almost wanted to laugh at her attempt to keep her frown. "well you are an avenger, every time I talked about Clint or about a theory you always listened to me without saying anything."

You burst out laughing and it only got worse when your girlfriend slapped your chest, keeping her hand there as a barrier when you brought you lips centimeters away from hers.

"don't, don't kiss me you don't deserve it" she whispered with her eyes almost closed.

But once you put your mouth on hers she couldn't help but smile, humming. One of her hands cupped your cheek, the other on the back of your neck, while your hands held her waist. She detached when she needed to breathe. The pout now was completely gone as she looked in your eyes.

"am I forgiven now?"

"mh, almost" she teased, brushing her lips with yours, hinting at another kiss.

But you were planning something else. "I got a proposition for you then" she furrowed her brows in response, slightly upset you didn't give her what she wanted.

“Wanna help me make a new super suit?”

This was even better then a kiss, she put her hands on your shoulders, squeezing them, clearly excited. "wait, really? Can I really do it? Oh I have a lot of ideas if I can"

You looked between her eyes, smiling. "of course you do, you make sure to share every possible design you can think of"

"and now you can use them!" she said matter-of-factly. "but we better get to sleep now, we have places to be."

"where do we have to go?" instead of answering, she kissed you again, pulling you to your bed.

- - - -

"dad! dad you're here!" an excited Nathaniel screamed, running to jump into his father's arms, followed by Lila and Cooper. Laura was a few feet away, enjoying the scene with her arms crossed.

"merry Christmas buddy, all of you" he whispered, kissing every kid's head. Then he raised his own to look at his wife.

"I hope you don't mind, I brought three strays." "uhm, excuse me" you entered the house with a fake hurt, and loud, tone. "I am not a-"

"(Y/N)!" Nathaniel interrupted you, moving away from the avenger only to hug you. You picked him up, and he wrapped his legs and arms around you. "hey little boy, merry Christmas" he chuckled in response "merry Christmas (Y/N)" depositing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

A bark distracted the happy scenario, making everyone but you and Clint turn to the door. "sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I guess pizza dog is hungry." she stood still with a shy smile. You playfully rolled your eyes, taking her hand with your free one.

"come in, you idiot, only you are missing"

- - - -

After that rather clumsy and shy enter, she met everyone, already seeming to get along with Lila. You played some family games, with joyful bickering between the different teams. Once it was time to prepare lunch, Laura instantly scolded you when you went into the kitchen to help, playfully shoving you away and demanding that you needed to rest.

So you were now in the living room while the baby of the house slept on your lap. You felt the couch dip and a little weight on your shoulder. "how are you feeling?" you asked, seeing her yawning and nuzzling her head deeper into your neck.

"mh, tired" she murmured.

Your lips turned into a smile, leaving a kiss to her temple "merry Christmas, my love"

Kate Bishop Masterlist - MCU Masterlist

General Masterlist

[aspoonofsugar]

can I ask your thoughts on the direction oshi no ko has gone?

Hi!

I personally dislike it. It feels like tragedy for the sake of gloom rather than catharsis. It is an ending that de-powers everyone's arc really.

Aqua is the only one who gets a complete arc, even if negative. He has a tragic arc and fails to have a positive development. He literally dies idolizing Ruby in juxtaposition to Kamiki, who dies idolizing Ai. Narratively, it makes sense for him to die, as he kills his shadow (Kamiki), but I would argue it does not really work for the story as a whole. And that is because the overall themes and the other protagonists' character arcs are all sacrificed for this negative outcome.

Ruby does not get to solve her feelings for Sensei/Aqua and is stuck in yet another tragedy. I don't know how her arc will be solved. Probably in a bittersweet and yet positive way, but here comes the thing. I don't think it is believable psychologically speaking. Ruby grew a lot, but she is still defined by the loss of sensei and AI. Nothing in the narrative happened to make me believe she would not react very very badly to Aqua's death tbh. We'll see.

Akane failed her objective to help Aqua and repay him. As a result, her development up until this point does not get any catharsis nor resolution. It literally goes nowhere.

Kana is worse than ever. She did not get to properly convey her feelings for Aqua and she went from being the tritagonist to being a character, who quietly disappears in the background, in what is ironically an echo of her acting career.

Finally, Ai's death finds no thematic resolution and her two final wishes are not fulfilled. Not only her children do not manage to save Hikaru, but one of them even dies himself.

All in all it feels like the story set up a plot with specific roles for each character to fulfill and then decided not to have them fulfill them for the sake of drama, rather than theme. I also personally disliked we spent so much time in Aqua's head as he arrived about a self-realization about his identity and that the climax was all about it... That was never truly the point of his character nor the series. The focus of the story isn't if Aqua and Ruby are Aqua and Ruby or Goro and Sarina. The point is that they get a second chance at living, so they can solve their complexes. Aqua even lampshades this, before the climax.

Now, I like well written tragedies, but I don't think the series is written as a tragedy really. The structure sets up positive arcs until the end of the movie arc, where you can see the author started changing the order of things, so that it could end in tragedy. So, there was the fake good ending, which was positive, but very weak. And then, there was a twist, so that a more powerful, but negative ending could be delivered. Except, I would have preferred the positive ending with the struggle of the tragic one :''') Especially because I really think it would have been the most powerful one possible for this series.

Anyway, there are still a couple of chapters left, I think. So, we will see the denouement. That said, I think the series lost its power in the final arc, which is a pity cause up until that point it was excellent. Like, the Dark Ruby's arc is one of my favorite arcs ever. I reread it some weeks ago and I cried a lot. That is the kind of power I was expecting in the finale, but instead we got a theme attached on the story at the last minute and a forced twist. It isn't one of the worst ending ever (especially if you read the series and the chapters all together probably), but it is definitely below the level of writing this story had. These are just my two cents of course :)

[imperiuswrecked]

pssst can i please ask you to spoiler the raven baby reveal to me...?

So the summary of X-Men Blue: Origins (2023) Mystique is wandering around New York acting crazy and mumbling about her lost baby, Kurt catches up with her and tries to talk her into calming down.

Kurt gives Raven his sword which breaks the mental barriers and it's revealed that while Raven was married to Baron Wagner, she and Irene were an on again, off again, couple who would hook up with other people whenever it helped their goals.

Raven had hired Irene to be the housemaid so she could stay close while Raven was married to Wagner, using his money/influence as they wanted and having a torrid love affair with Irene in private. Azazel shows up and Irene encouraged Raven to have an affair with him as well, because she had visions of the future.

Basically Irene wanted a love child with Raven, but needed Azazel to believe he was the father because she knew that unless Kurt was set on a path to be his constant foe/destroyer of his plans then Azazel would rise to power.

Irene's visions aren't something she can stop and she lives her life according to how to bring about her visions but she doesn't tell Raven any of this until 5 years after Kurt's birth. So she and Raven have a child, Kurt, and from my understanding of the reading, Mystique can copy the genes down to a molecular level and took the gene patterns from Azazel and Baron Wagner and impregnated Irene. So Kurt doesn't have 2 parents, he has 4, well 5 including Margali Szardos who was his adopted mom. Kurt is now battling for the #1 spot for "most parents and most confusing parental origin in comics" and he's up against the Maximoff twins who have gone through 3 sets of parents.

Back to the story, Raven dumps Azazel who is such a pathetic loser, I love that lol. Raven fakes being pregnant by shapeshifting to look like she is pregnant as the months go by. Baron Wagner discovers his wife's affairs, and being the homophobe he is, is stabbed by Raven who then spends the next few months switching between forms to make people believe that the Baron and his wife are both still around, waiting until Irene gives birth. I'm guessing because Raven intended to use the Baron's money/pretending to be him so she and Irene could live in comfort or until they wanted to move on.

Irene is the one who gives birth to Kurt, and Raven overcome with joy/love for Kurt doesn't want his first sight of her to be human so she reveals herself.

The townspeople are of course in an uproar, want to kill the demon woman and her demon child, Irene tells Raven to get to safety and that she would be ok, but Raven fears for Irene so she leaves Kurt under a tree and rushes back to kill the people who would hurt her wife and discovers Irene is missing, she runs back to find Kurt and he's gone too.

Five years pass and she finds Irene again, this time watching a young Rogue, Irene reveals everything to Raven, the Azazel vision, Irene needed Kurt to be raised as an outcast etc. Raven and Irene both know they are in a toxic relationship, but they love each other too much so they went to the one man who can make everything worse, Charles Xavier. Of course Xavier does what he does best, erases people's memories and implants new ones.

So now Kurt has 2 deadbeat mutant moms, 1 deadbeat demonic mutant father, 1 dead human father, and 1 adopted mother and they all give him the most drama & trauma that you will ever see in comics! Love wins (?)

I am currently taking donations to hire Kurt a therapist (who isn't Professor X), save an elf's sanity and donate /jk

I will say that this origin, though very messy, does at least confirm that Irene is just as messy/toxic as Raven, so I hope they continue to be totally bad for each other and 100% in love, which is very refreshing to see in wlw couples and I really hope they do not try to soften their edges, especially Raven's, I do not want a "good mother Raven", but time will tell. Also finally Kurt is Baron Wagner's son technically due to partially copied genetics so it finally makes sense for why Kurt has the Wagner last name, which is something that always bugged me, because imo if he had zero connection to the Baron then he wouldn't have the Wagner last name. Also this doesn't invalidate the Azazel retcon from before because again technically Azazel believes Kurt is his son, and Kurt does have partially copied genetics from Azazel.

I think it was a really tough balancing act to have to write, I wish it could have been written a bit better or the thoughts of Rogue actually being Irene/Raven's daughter would have worked better. Like imagine if Raven and Irene were both pregnant, Irene had Rogue and Raven had Nightcrawler or Irene had them both as twins, then they wouldn't just be foster/adopted siblings but also bio siblings, and it could have opened up the door for more stories involving them as brother and sister trying to deal with their mothers. Marvel constantly ignores the potential for Rogue and Kurt's sibling dynamic and I wish we got more of it in the comics. I get that the writer was trying to keep to the old canon while creating the new canon and using the original plan for Kurt's parentage, so while I feel it's way too complicated this is also comics where complicated plots and retcons have been a long standing tradition meant to torment us readers.

[403tarot]

Hey duckie, could you do Wonbin (Riize) as a boyfriend and his ideal type, please?

hi dear, i'll do wonbin's ideal type in another opportunity, okay? let's go with him as bf ☺️

남침 원빈 ㅡ wonbin as boyfriend 🔸

how he is:

wonbin is very affectionate when he's in love, the kind who even gets a bit silly and smiles at the walls when no one is looking. for him, love is expressed in small gestures, like intertwining fingers, a passionate gaze, a gentle kiss on the forehead... he prefers to show he cares through acts of service and his sweet and loving personality.

wonbin is the type of boyfriend who bends over backward just to find time to talk to his beloved, even if it's just for a few minutes. he calls, asks about your day, makes you laugh, subtly expresses that he misses you... all the while playing with his hair and pacing around the room, trying to dispel the nervousness that arises whenever he's talking to someone he cares about so much.

he is someone who fights to make the relationship work. differences in opinions? that's okay; he'll try to have a calm conversation and understand the other side. did something he said upset you? he'll make sure not to repeat what hurt you and apologize for it. in general, wonbin doesn't give up easily because he doesn't allow himself to enter into a relationship with just anyone. if he has reached this level of commitment with someone, it's because he believes it's worth the effort and seeks the same commitment from the other party involved. people who create drama, hinder communication, or invent reasons to create chaos are quickly dismissed by him.

what he seeks:

he is looking for someone willing to commit to a serious relationship with him and to have a structured connection. i think it's clear by now that wonbin is a methodical guy, so fragile relationships and volatile individuals are a big NO for him. wonbin seeks someone willing to reciprocate efforts on the same terms, someone mature who doesn't let external factors unnecessarily affect the relationship.

he's mischievous, eager to touch your face, kiss your lips, run his hands over your body... he wants someone who loves him passionately, who's on the same page, and isn't afraid of the consequences of that.

what makes a good relationship for him:

he aims to be the one who resolves problems on the spot so that in the future, they won't become the subject of discussions again. he detests when past issues are brought back to the table to be used as arguments. wonbin wants someone willing to go through life's various transformations with him without much hassle, someone with whom he can build loyalty and a healthy relationship, based not only on love but also on friendship and complicity.

i haven't done many readings for wonbin, but from the few i've done, i noticed that he is very focused on giving his best in various areas of his life, and his approach to love shouldn't be any different. it's been a few months since i read for wonbin for the first time, and now i feel that even in a short period, a lot about him has changed. i sense him as more mature and confident now, which is definitely surprising and has shown very positive reflections in this reading.

[thefrogsennaneverfound]

I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?

He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.

Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.

Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.

It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?

Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.

“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.

His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.

On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.

Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.

Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?

Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).

You're probably sorry you asked now.

[jilyawards]

I think people have legitimate concerns about the awards since every year there seems to be some kind of drama that often results in people leaving the fandom.

The responses to these anons have been passive aggressive and defensive and have only fuelled the flames without taking into account the history of these awards and the ways people have been hurt by them before. You might be new to running the awards, but the awards have a long history that honestly hasn't always been good.

As mods you're hiding behind anonymity, which I understand considering the hate that the mods have received in the past, but it does add to the level of distrust around the awards and if you're so scared of getting hate about a project that you won't put your name to it, isn't that a sign that maybe it's time to let that project go?

It also means I don't feel like I can send you a message that's not anon because I don't know who I'm speaking with and there's no opportunity for open discourse.

We understand people have had issues with how the awards were run in the past - that is an unfortunate fact we inherited when we took ownership of the blog. We can not change the past. We can only operate in the present so we did all we could within our power to make it as fair and fun a process as we possibly could:

We turned the awards blog into a year round thing, we accepted any fic that came in so long as it was Jily. We posted those recs every single month without fail.

We offered the ability to opt out - something that has been used historically - so anyone who wanted to opt out for whatever reason could. We said we didn’t need a reason, we didn’t ask for one because we respect peoples opinions and want to opt out. We even extended the branch to those who opted out last year but hadn’t messaged in this year to say they wanted to opt out again just in case someone forgot.

We offered even more categories for the chance at more opportunities to be named - so that those who write long vs short fics weren’t overshadowed. I will stand and name myself as one of the people running this year if it puts and end to this unnecessary back and forth with an anonymous person or persons. You are welcome to come and DM me.

I Ray, @charmsandtealeaves have been doing my best for this fandom for the better part of the past two years.

I’m sorry if you read our response as passive aggressive. I’ve stated that we wanted to be firm on our stance so you can interpret that as defensive if you want - because of course as one of the people behind the scenes doing all the admin hours I obviously think this venture is worthwhile. I haven’t won an award but I did enjoy the experience of seeing nominations and hyping up my friends. Which is why I stepped up when Ava left. I haven’t been around long enough to know the years of fandom drama and history behind a silly little awards thing, or who has apparent beef with whom - and frankly I don’t care. I’m here to read, write and share Jily fic.

The anon expressed concerns about people’s mental health over not winning. Mental health is a genuine concern and I am a massive advocate for it. However, I still believe if you only exist to create to win one of these awards then you’re creating for the wrong reason. And if you are upset because you weren’t nominated for an award - there is the option to nominate yourself and always has been because nominations are anonymous we don’t release how many times someone was nominated because that doesn’t matter it only takes one - if not being nominated is enough to leave the fandom over it… then I’m sorry but that’s something you personally need to work on and maybe you should start seeing this (being writing fic) for what it is - a hobby done for free and for fun.

I continued the anonymity left by Ava for this exact reason. Because no matter if I say so publicly or not there are going to be people who have strong opinions against the awards and they are entitled to them, and they are entitled not to participate. They are not however, entitled to keep sending messages that we shouldn’t exist because of something that happened years ago and because some don’t think they should exist at all. And I didn’t want that in my personal inbox but also understood that anonymous asks let people ask questions they might be too shy to ask public facing so they stayed on over here.

I’ve been the public face behind a lot of events over the last two years and that hasn’t stopped me getting anonymous messages about how I’m doing it all wrong. Or quite frankly worse ones that were derogatory and personal.

I’ve done what was asked. I addressed the concerns that came in the form of an anonymous ask politely and respectfully given this year’s history. I offered a poll as requested. If you read that response as passive aggressive well… that’s down to your interpretation. I’ve had enough of drama. And from all I’ve seen the drama stems from something I wasn’t even around for and has nothing to do with me, or how the awards have run this year. It has nothing to do with our current existence and the effort I’ve put in this year - both to the Jily awards all year, the gift exchange, Jilytoberfest, every Jilychallenge, Mystery Microfic May, jilymicrofics and the discord.

At the end of the day I’m here writing because I love Jily and I love all the people who come to read and enjoy what I put out too. But I will admit I’m tried of whatever this is.

If you want to, as you say have open discorse, my inbox is there, but I’ve said my piece and I respect their are different opinions but that’s not gonna change the awards being held this year. All posts are tagged so you can block them or this blog if you like. ~ Ray

[drdemonprince]

TV Glow was devastating. incredibly effective visually, thematically, and performance-wise. Schoenbrun has leveled up in a major way since World's Fair, which I felt like I was five years too old for, both in terms of references and from having seen too much weird shit in this life to be impressed by her version of what's "scary" online.

This movie was far more creatively ambitious and emotionally resonance -- it having a bigger budget certainly helped stretch its legs, and Schoenbrun used it to its fullest.

Justice Smith's acting made me want to cry. He shows a true reverence for the material that few cis actors would; far from viewing the character as a little exercise, he transforms into her discomfort and sadness. His little voice warbles and the way his face softens with hope at a few crucial moments made my heart break for him, knowing already that the dreams he'd barely let himself hold onto would never come true.

I can't believe an Emma Stone produced wide release movie is about transgender egg drama here in 2024. jarring for something that once felt so private and esoteric to be broadly relatable to audiences now. it's fitting, given the movie is about a mass-release TV show that a handful of tender freaks think must be about something so much more than this world would ever let it be. kind of a funny trick there.

is this a movie about depressed isolated queer people whose minds curdle around a random media property because loneliness makes the brain turn inward and eat itself? or is it the tragic tale of a woman who never realized her destiny and allowed the matrix to keep plugging her repeatedly back in?

you can read it both ways at once and it's best if you do. some equipped with fandom goggles with elect to see it only in the more fantastical light.

There are already dozens of people coming out as transgender for the first time in their lives in the Letterboxd reviews of this film, saying they recognize their repression in Owen, their egg at last busted open by this heartbreaking tale of a life unfulfillingly lived. I get it -- before I transitioned, the same thing happened to me with Casey Plett's incredible story collection, A Safe Girl to Love. There is something painfully enchanting about the forever-unrealized trans person whose suffering we imagine would be escapable if only they could admit who they are.

But what do you do when you have overcome your fear of being "crazy," left your old world behind, and passed through that veil to become the person you were always meant to be, only to find that you are still stoop-shouldered and awkward, still overlooked with your heart cut out of you, apologizing to others for your asthma in between your death rattles? What if you never get all the poison out? After you figure out you're a hero from another dimension, what will you do if you can never get back?

I find myself asking these things, as a person who used to fantasize that transitioning would solve all my problems. The imagined future transitioned me felt so distant that it was easy to push him off. And then after years passed, when I finally reached out to claim him, I discovered he was just as awkward, lonesome, insecure, and unhappy as I was, because he was just me. If i'd always been transgender, then I'd always been unhappy for deeply transgender reasons back then, too, and I'd already known a whole lot more about what it meant to be me than I'd thought that I had. Fantasies had been a seductive distraction from the world that was trying to kill me, and they suffocated me whether I denied them or if I believed in them.

This is a movie about fantasies, and the suburbs, and about being transgender. And it's bleak, but I think some who are on the cusp of making the same realizations as Owen can't fully know why yet. Life on the other side of knowing is more liveable, but I can't explain why. It didn't make things better. It wasn't the great escape I had hoped. But it did force me to confront who I was and how many monsters there always had been all around me. And that's better than living in a fantasy.

[velvet-vox]

All of the points that go in favour/against Doll coming back to life.

So, originally, I wanted to make a post of theory/analysis on Cyn and the possibility of her being redeemed at the end of the show; one of the points that I was going to make for said redemption was that Doll's death was meant as a cautionary tale, the main team of the series is abuse and how trauma affects us into becoming the worst version of ourselves, Doll was a trauma victim who was so dead set in her unhealthy coping mechanism that she ended screwing over her entire life, granted said redemption for Doll wasn't unreachable as showcased by her last living moments, but by then the damage was done; Cyn, on the other hand, could have potentially realised all of the harm she was doing even as far back as before the gala massacre, but then, it kind of reminded me why I ended up never making that post.

You see, the thing is, I don't understand Cyn.

At all.

Like, I also for the longest time couldn't understand Doll despite being hyper obsessed with her, and took over a year, countless analyses done by other people and (unfortunately) episode 7 until I could finally come to understand her to the deep, narrative level that I do now, and I still don't know if I truly got everything.

But with Cyn, not only do I not understand her like I do with other characters, but..... I also kind of feel left out.

To me, it seems like the fanbase at large is obsessed with this little gremlin; I'm autistic as well, since that's the main head canon floating around, yet I don't really relate to a word she says, to me, the hype surrounding Cyn feels similar to the hype surrounding Nori pre episode 7: we have this almost blank slate character that is characterized enough to not be an head canon dump, she is super relevant to both the plot and to one of the protagonist backstory, it's one of the main antagonistic forces, and is generally super important.... Yet I still don't get her nor do I get her surrounding hype. I've read a couple of analyses, and would gladly accept if someone sent me some more, since just a single Murder Drones character requires a lot of digging to fully comprehend in its entirety.

But finally going back to Doll, I want to make a short list of all the points in favour and against a possible resurrection of her character, starting with the pros.

Pros:

- Doll is definitely a big selling point for the russian audience of Murder drones, as I have seen various people lament her death on the fact that she was russian alone; funnily enough, this was also my main reasoning to not kill her off as I and other people started learning russian all because of her.

- Gonna reiterate the fact that Doll is, currently, peak russian representation, and it just feels rather insensitive from Liam to kill her off permanently when there's already Yeva and her dad, two russians, whose death is much more acceptable.

- Doll, unlike Alice, Beau, Rebecca or others, had so much potential as a character, being Uzi's foil and all, and to not capitalize on that would be a huge waste.

- Her death, although very impactful, was not, per se, as narratively satisfying as it could have been (see Nox from Wakfu), so it might've been a mislead, and if V comes back, there's a chance Doll might come back too since Doll x V is the parallel dynamic to Uzi x N.

- Gonna mention personal bias. It's not important nor is it a valid point but it had to be mentioned.

- Doll parents are already dead but we had a whole Yeva flashback in episode 7 that I can't explain in ways other than she'll be relevant in the future, and if she turns out to be alive, even if mind controlled, Doll's death is inevitably going to lose a lot of impact because, as it stands, it's balanced, but with the twist, it could retroactively feel like drama porn.

- She wasn't unreademable, just unreachable and deeply hurt, if she had a second chance to make up for her mistakes I believe she would take it in a heartbeat, I can only imagine the immense amount of guilt she was feeling while dying, she must've realised she only caused more damage in the long run and couldn't do anything to fix it, so if she could help Uzi out even as a digital ghost, it might just give her the sense of closure she so desperately needed.

- If Nori can come back as a core, so can Doll, they just need to cut Cyn stomach in a non lethal way.

And now, for the sadly more probable cons:

- This is Liam Vickers we are talking about.

- Even with all of her potential, hers and her family backstory feel rather.... disconnected from everything else going on right now? Like, Yeva might have been this important figure into Nori's past, but as of right now, aside from her impact, she really doesn't seem too relevant to the main plot; same thing with Doll, in fact, it was Doll's own insistence to be relevant that led to her demise, because, despite everything, the story revolves around N and Uzi manages to survive because she is important to N, and even then, she still sacrifices her own life for him.

- The narrative has always been pretty disrespectful to her? Like, I'm not talking about her sad backstory, sad development, and even sadder death, (this master guide over here realistically had no end in sight as you could just go on and on forever) I mean in general there was a clear lack of commitment to her side of things from the writing team, I think I've read somewhere else that in the original animation Uzi even walked on Doll's body as she was running to N; many theorised that they only came up with her story only after the pilot dropped, and I can't help but think that it has to be true because she had this air of mystery that in my opinion went anywhere and in the pilot she's a background character. I don't know, from a supposedly sympathetic villain the writing was rather unsympathetic towards her whole situation and she felt more like your average b##ch in the episodes following the prom.

- She still fulfilled her limited narrative role, so changing it back could alter future developments and remove impact from the tragedy of this cautionary tale, since, in all honesty, Doll's side story would require the show to switch off the plot too much and unfortunately that's never been a priority for the writing team. Also bringing back up Nox from Wakfu (still gonna make that comparison post) whose Doll shares some themes with, even though his personal story was extremely tragic, it was extremely disconnected from all of the main characters as he was more of a warmup baddie for Yugo to get in the groove, and he never returned physically aside from passive mentions and an illusion.

- I don't think they went out of the way to showcase Cyn eating Doll's core just for it to be a fake out.

- Even with all of my personal biases, aside from her starring episode she never had a real purpose in the grand scheme of things so her death was probably just a way to cut off loose ends.

- She isn't a protagonist despite what she deluded herself into, so plot armour applies even less to her than it does with the main trio (spoiler: it doesn't).

Ultimately, in my heart and mind, despite what I really want, I know Doll's not coming back.

She was disrespected, screwed over by both the writing and her own twisted mind, and since this is a somewhat heavy horror show despite the comedy, I really don't think we are going to see her reunited with her parents as a ghost nor will she be in robot hell or heaven, I really think she is just dead.

That's so sad. What a shame.

Farewell, comrade.

Want more?

[michirukaioureincarnate]

Bike Ride on the Sea Side

Haruka Tenoh x Reader Oneshot - cont. in Body Pillow (smut)

Fandom: Sailor Moon Pairing: Haruka Tenoh x reader | Sailor Uranus x reader Genre(s): Fluff 𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭 | NSFW 𖹭𖹭 | Angst 𖹭 Theme(s): secure x avoidant | confession | first kiss Warning(s): Swearing Summary: You were under the impression that Haruka enjoyed your company and liked you over the past two dates. The constant texting after you unexpected meet-cute really made you believe things could go somewhere with them. But the two-week dry spell between you two had you believing otherwise. It's a shame because you really, really liked them. Reading Stats: 5000 words | 20 min read Disclaimer: All characters are consenting adults | Aged 21+

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: okay the genre and theme is so ??? but GIVE ME A FUMKIN MINUTE I'm trynna make this idea work please fkjahjfskh it's been on my mind for a while now also kinda coping with the drama an avoidant ex-situationship put me in and now she's coming back wanting a shot with me again even though SHE HAS A MONOGAMOUS GF Y'ALL I- 👁️👄👁️ ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

It's not like you were sitting around waiting for Haruka to text you. You weren't one to chase anyone or anything if reasonable efforts did not yield expected results. One could say you were too logical and unromantic.

"It's about the chase, Y/N!" your best friend insisted. "How is Haruka supposed to know you like them at all?"

You narrowed your eyes at her. "You know me, okay? I'm literally a shameless and open book." A small huff followed as you glared at your phone on the coffee table. "Besides...I asked them last week if everything was okay. They brushed me off, so why bother?"

"Show it to me," she demanded as she crossed her legs on the couch. She held her hand out and gestured for the phone, and you complied. Peering over her shoulder, you watched her read.

Y/N: Hey, it's been a while since we last talked properly. There's no pressure to reply, I'm just checking in to see if you're alright. Been thinking about you. Just let me know if you need space or anything, yeah? I'm not really sure about what to think or feel right now. 8:51 PM

Haruka: Thanks for checking in :) I'm fine, just caught up with work. Text you soon. 8:53 PM

Y/N: Sure thing! 9:00 PM

"They replied fast," she says curiously.

"A week ago."

She grins at you mischievously. "And does that bother the sensible and unromantic Y/N?"

"Pfft," you scoff. "No, I just don't like false expectations. If they don't wanna text me, they should just say it."

"Yeah, well, no one's as brave as you are," she sighed. "This isn't the first time you've been potentially ghosted."

Hearing it out loud kind of stung. It always did, and it would pass in a few hours before. This time, though, it lingered.

You'd never liked anyone like this before.

Still, you couldn't just ignore the lack of open and consistent communication for the chemistry over two dinners. Even though you didn't entirely dismiss the texting, it was still platonic and surface-level compared to in-person hang outs. And now there were barely any texts to go on.

Snatching your phone back, you tossed it into the pillows on the adjacent armchair and grabbed the remote to open up Netflix on the flatscreen TV.

We don't know each other enough, you consoled yourself internally as your friend settled on a horror movie. They're just some random person you bumped into in a bar of all places. You wanted to meet your soulmate in a library.

No sooner had you thought it did another helpless musing begin to haunt you.

They're so fucking hot, though.

It wasn't just the way they looked, although those dark and brooding eyes would hold you captive with a mere glance any day. You'd been around plenty of attractive people in your life and been approach by some of them as well; but the way people looked never fazed you. Instead, it was their energy and aura that drew you in.

The way Haruka carried themselves was admirable. Was it the straight-back posture? The calculating eyes atop an easy-going smile? Or the sense of purpose that surrounded them with every step taken or every spoken word? Haruka always seemed so certain of things and never missed the opportunity to take action, and you liked that.

It would explain why it felt that they were withdrawing from you. Haruka wasn't acting like they were sure about you anymore. It sucked because, for once in your life, you were sure about someone.

In all your past relationships, you'd always entertained uncertainties and potential in hopes of it blossoming eventually. It was enough that you liked them. But this time, you really wanted to take your time and figure Haruka out regardless of attraction.

"Ugh," you muttered softly as the first jump scare snapped you out of the ruminating, and your best friend's deathly clutch upon your arm left no room for your attention to drift away.

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

You woke up to a loud knock from somewhere. The horror movie had long ended, and your best friend was draped over your lap with drool dripping onto your thigh from the corner of her mouth.

She really has no shame, you think endearingly while carefully sliding out from under her. You throw the blanket over her completely, almost about to tuck her in when another louder knock takes you by surprise.

"What the fuck," you muttered, straining your ear for to locate the source. It sounded way too close for comfort. Your 1 + 1 apartment was too small for an intruder to hide in, so the only logical source was the windows.

You didn't want to go near them. Even though you were on the third floor, you didn't underestimate a stalker's ability to scale the wall for something they'd want bad enough.

The sight of a small rock knocking off your window-pane confirmed your suspicions, and you grabbed your phone to call the police only to notice that it was dead.

With no choice but to face the situation head on, you mustered the courage to confront whoever was out there. You were mentally prepared to scream bloody murder with no regard for your neighbors if it meant driving away the culprit.

Marching over to the window, you looked down into the front yard of the apartment to find a hooded figure looking up.

Right. At. You.

You threw the window open, fully prepared to screech until a lock of fair hair caught the glint of the moonlight. Your heart skipped a beat, and you watched as the figure pushed the hood off their head.

A pair of warm eyes peered at you, and a nervous lopsided smile accompanied it. You hated the way your heart was practically melting at the sight.

"Hey," Haruka said gently, and the wind carried their tomboyishly deep voice up to you. "Been thinkin' about you."

"Haruka, what the fuck?!"

They grinned up at you in amusement. "You don't sound very happy to see me, sweetheart."

"It's nearly–" you looked around for the clock in your house that you rarely consulted, "five in the morning! Who throws rocks at someone's window at this hour?!"

"I tried calling, but you wouldn't pick up," they said apologetically. "My only choice was to come and see you."

You rubbed away the ache blooming under the bridge of your nose. "Couldn't this wait?"

Deep down, you were screaming with happiness. The fact that they came over just because they couldn't get a hold of you was so nonsensical that you would've told anyone off for it. But this was Haruka, and it was hard to contain the joy tugging at the corners of your lips.

They're so stupid, you sighed internally.

"I wouldn't have come all this way if it could," they said sincerely, putting their hands in the pockets of their red and white race car jacket as a chilly breeze brushed past. Their eyes shimmered up at you, reflecting the stars in the sky. There was a tinge of vulnerability to them that caught you off guard. "Could you come down? And, um...dress warm."

"If it's only for a minute then–"

"It's not," they cut in breathlessly. "Maybe thirty minutes."

You raised a suspicious brow at them before walking away to your wardrobe, changing into a pair of warm sweats before grabbing your keys. Slipping into your shoes, you quietly left the apartment and prayed your best friend wouldn't wake up to find you gone. You knew how worried she'd get otherwise.

Quickly making your way down, you jogged out of the building and found Haruka by the street, waiting on the pavement next to a sleek motorbike.

You stopped. On your second date, they picked you up in a sports car to drive to the restaurant and revealed their love for motorcycles on the way.

"Haruka..." you said quietly. "I thought you didn't share your bike with anyone."

"I know," they replied softly before holding their hand out to you. Though you wished they'd just spill what was going on, you took their hand and let them pull you closer.

Their touch was warm against the cold air of the night, your fingers encased in their palm as their thumbs ran over your knuckles almost affectionately. Heat rose to your neck under their intense gaze that searched your face for something. They guided you onto the back of the motorbike securely before getting on turning the key.

A slow hum ran through the vehicle, and Haruka got seated properly before glancing at you over their shoulder.

"Hold on tight, Y/N."

You could feel your face getting hotter, but you reached forward and clamped your hands on their shoulders. They chuckled, pulling on their gloves and revving the engine before suddenly taking off.

The abrupt jerk of the bike had you clamping your arms around their waist instantly, and you were very aware of how firm their back felt against your soft chest.

"Asshole!" you yelled over the wind, only to catch a light chuckle before Haruka sped up. You had no choice but to curl against her spine, holding onto her tightly as you two zipped under the lamp lights of the empty highway. The cold wind was in your hair, and your fingers were freezing in the fists they'd curled into under their diaphragm.

You felt their gloved hand on yours, prying them apart to guide one of them into her jacket's pocket, and then the other one as well. It was such a sweet gesture that you forgot to pretend to be annoyed at them. Their pockets were warm, and you gave into the pleasure of how they felt against your body when you wrapped yourself around them.

Slowly, you coaxed yourself to look up from their shoulder and take in the views. You weren't sure how far away you two were from the apartment, but you could see the vast ocean that opened to the right, disappearing into the horizon where the stars were beginning to disappear.

The sunrise... you realized breathlessly as Haruka drove on the highway along the edge of the beach. Your gaze was fixed on the sky slowly turning a lighter shade of blue. The stars' twinkling faded in anticipation of the first rays of the sun.

Against your chest, Haruka's warmth kept the wind's chill out of your bones. They smelled nice, although a little unconventional; smokey and spiced, like a blend of cinnamon, roses, and the faint linger of cigarettes. You'd never gotten this close to her before, although you had hoped that they'd finally kiss you when you two eventually had a third date.

Wait... you thought. Is this a date?

No, perhaps not. To you, dates should be communicated and planned and prepared for. You would never be found wearing sweats and without a touch of make-up on a date. You found yourself regretting not dabbing on a bit of concealer and mascara. Even some lip gloss would've sufficed.

The motorbike leaned to the right as Haruka took a turn into a road, and the barricades from the edge disappeared. The beach opened up to you directly, with its sand blowing onto the asphalt and the air sticky with salt. The tops of small and calm waves glimmered as an orange spot appeared on the horizon.

The sun was here.

Haruka parked the bike, and you finally straightened up and pulled your arms off them. The embarrassment of having to cling on like that finally registered, and you quickly got off the bike and faced the sea to avoid their gaze. Haruka climbed off and kicked its stand in place, leaning their hips against the gas tank as they crossed their ankles and arms.

Silence.

You wished they'd tell you why they brought you here, but you were a sucker for sunrises and sunsets. With eyes fixed on the horizon, the two of you quietly watched the colors slowly begin to change. The sky was much lighter now, and the curve of brilliant orange ascended behind a few fluffy clouds, turning their underside pink. The waters took on a beautiful deep hue of turquoise with the passing moments, a color you loved so deeply.

"The sunrise is even more beautiful when the sea's surface is there to reflect its light," Haruka hummed softly. "The sun's brilliant on its own, but I suppose it needs to see its reflection to be reminded of it."

Their words took you by surprise.

"Why would the sun need a reminder?" you asked casually. "It's the sun. It sustains everything."

Haruka shook their head. "It's too far away to see the impact of its existence. But the ocean is vast. It stretches out endlessly and can be seen from where the sun it."

It took you a minute to realize Haruka was trying to tell you something.

"And it's important, the ocean. Without it, the sun would've fried up everything on Earth. No one to witness any nice sunrises without it to make life possible, right?"

You were beginning to feel frustrated and swallowed your nervousness to turn their way. The horizon reflected in their deep blue eyes, pouring light into them like they were lanterns. A gust of wind pushed the stray fair locks off their forehead, and they glanced at you. You weren't sure if you were imagining their ears turning pink.

"Where were you the past two weeks?" you asked as nicely as you could, but the undertone of anxiety seeped in. "I thought you didn't want to see me."

Haruka exhaled sharply and dropped their hands to their pockets.

"I was trying not to see you. Well, not too much anyway. I..." they huffed conflictedly as they closed their eyes. "You know I've got a racing season coming up, right? And I was practicing really hard for it. Everyone kept giving me shit for being reckless or risky on the track or whatever, but that's just how I've always won. It's second nature to me, and I know how to win."

You kept quiet as they caught their breath to collect their thoughts.

"I guess it'll be different this time because I made it into a bigger racing series," they continued. "It came as a surprise to everyone, but my team told me that I'll be competing with racers who are in an entirely different league. If anything, they drive much like I do."

"Haruka, could you get injured?" you demanded gently as worry flooded you.

"I mean, maybe?" they replied nervously as they blinked at the horizon. "But every sport has that risk. That's not the point. The point is that the only way to win is to not be reckless, and that's a huge change in approach to manage overnight. I hate change, and I can't do it without some kind of a constant reminder over my head."

I knew it, you thought with a skip of a heartbeat. They were trying to tell me something.

Your heart raced in you chest as they straightened up.

"I crashed last week."

"WHAT?!" you snapped as you grabbed their arm. "Haruka, what the fuck?!"

"I'm fine, promise." They turned to you and placed a comforting hand over your fingers gripping the sleeve of their jacket. "It was barely anything and it's pretty normal but...I berated myself for it. That was a first. I usually just get up and dust myself off, but I caught myself thinking...how will I see Y/N if I got hurt really badly? How would she feel if she saw me crash like that?"

You were left speechless, and your heart was pounding so hard that it could break through your ribcage and fall into Haruka's hands. They came to stand before you, casting a shadow over your body that contained your attention entirely onto them.

"I ran another lap after that crash and realized that I was different," they continued. "I don't know what exactly changed, but it was like a different part of my brain opened up. I saw different ways, better ways, to conquer the tracks that I never really considered before. More possibilities to prepare for, to keep an eye out for, and...it just felt like you were sitting behind me. I couldn't afford to crash again and injure you, but I also wanted to win."

Their hand slid under your fingers to pull it off their arm, holding your hand securely. With their eyes boring into yours, you held their gaze through the butterflies and tremors racking your body. Their grasp is warm, with soft skin interrupted by the occassional calluses from gripping bike handles.

Your mouth was dry, but you still forced yourself to speak. "That doesn't explain why you avoided me."

"I was scared," they said immediately. "My entire life, I've always been so selfish and self-centered without ever realizing it until that crash. For once, you were my first thought right after. I didn't know what to make of it."

A trembling sigh left them as they reached out for your other hand to grip tightly, pulling them close to their chest clasped within their palms. And suddenly, you felt something in the air between your bodies, as if it had become charged. Your skin tingled, every cell of your being tugged forward by an invisible force with a yearning for the warmth that rolled of Haruka's body.

"I avoided you because I've never, ever wanted to run to someone so badly before," they muttered into the air between the two of you. "I wanted you behind me on that bike because your presence was so...so–gosh, I can't find the word."

Your voice was breathy when you spoke. "Palpable..."

They nodded in relief.

The sun rose behind them, peeking over the top of their head and setting their hair alight and giving them their own halo. You'd never seen a prettier sight until now, basking in the vulnerable glimmer of their irises despite the crack in the strong walls around their heart.

"You were my reminder, Y/N," they said quietly as their cheeks flushed like the underside of the clouds above. "You kept me from getting too heated. From burning up everything around me and crashing senselessly for the sake of victory. You...are my ocean, in which I see that what I do and who I am right now is enough no matter the outcome."

Your heart was going to give out from how fast it was beating, and you quickly blinked away the mist in your eyes. It was the sweetest and most passionate thing you'd ever heard from anyone. Ever.

"Whoa, Y/N, a-are you alright?" Haruka asked worriedly as they stepped in closer to you. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..." you exhaled sharply, releasing all the anxiety and anticipation that had built up over the week. "I just...wow, um–I don't know what to say..."

Their face fell a little as their grip on your hands loosened. "You don't have to say anything at all. I just...I hoped you felt just as intensely about me, but I know it's too soon and–"

"I was waiting for you," you interjected, embarrassed and a little angry at yourself for how pathetic you sounded. "I never wait for anyone, Haruka, but you...you had me walking around everywhere wondering if you just didn't like me anymore."

Their lips parted in surprise as they stared at you.

"I usually just move on the second I feel like someone doesn't want me," you sighed as you clutched their hands, relishing how nimble thier fingers were. "That's what it means to be a secure person, right? But I've also never liked anyone the way I've liked you."

Their awe slowly turned into a bashful lopsided grin. "Someone as sensible as you likes someone as reckless as me?"

"Next time you ignore me like that, I'd rather you be dead than ghosting me."

"Whoa, okay, um–" they snorted in amusement. "You know what? Yeah. I get it. I'd hate to be ghosted by someone like you too."

Why the fuck did I deflect like that? you scolded yourself. It sounded so needy.

"I'm not all that great, though," you muttered with eyes downcast. "I mean, I like myself plenty as I am, but you...you're a professional racer. Practically a celebrity. I've just got a little writing thing on the side that keeps me comfortable, but nothing major."

You held your breath as Haruka placed your palm over their heart. Their hand slid down the back of yours to your elbow and up to your shoulder with a soft grip, their knuckles trailing up your neck. Their touch carried with it the feathery blooms of pleasure that spread over your skin, and your heart stumbled when they gently held your chin to lift your face. Your skin buzzed with a vehement need to be closer to them, and your fingers clenched around the fabric of their shirt as you felt their heart speed up behind it.

"You've got a grounded personality, Y/N," they whispered with a tentative swipe of their thumb under your lip, and their face felt so much closer than before. "Passionate and self-reliant without needing anyone's approval for it. If anything, I'd love for you to make it big in your career, but you seem perfectly content and grateful with what you have, and I admire it."

They searched your eyes so deeply that you're left stumbling over your tongue. "I–I, um, well, I have more than enough to get by so...you know, I don't–um–"

"Y/N."

"Y–yes?"

They paused, looking down your face until you felt your lips tingle.

"I wish I could tell you how much I missed you," they murmured with a hint of something akin to need.

Desire. Maybe some restraint. It was in the way their palm cupped your jaw as their thumb stroked your cheek, eyes still on your mouth as they let out a soft, shuddering exhale.

You were barely breathing.

"I missed everything about you," they continued huskily, their eyelids growing heavy with a flutter of their lashes as their gaze darkened. "And I'll be such a goner if I give into how much I like you, because there will be so much more to miss whenever I'm away. But I need you to like me back just as much because this is scary."

Their other hand was still wrapped in yours at their sternum, and you guided it forward to your chest right over your heart. Pressing their palm over it, you shuddered at the warmth that seeped through your shirt and over your skin.

Your heart was practically bursting at the seams, and you looked at them from under your lashes defenselessly, surrendering to your undeniable feelings for them despite the need for caution.

"I think..." you started breathlessly, "I've been waiting for you for much longer than those two weeks. Don't make me wait anymore."

You gulped as you stared into their eyes, your next word sounding barely above a sigh.

"Please."

Haruka's lips fell upon yours so fast that you gasped in surprise, followed by soft moans that erupted into each other's mouths. Their deep grunt rumbled in their chest under your palms as they pulled you in close, their arm clamping around the small of your back. Encased in the warmth of their body, you mewled at the way they cradled the back of your head to kiss you languidly.

You were melting into them, feeling the heat from your bodies intertwining as you gripped onto their shoulders for dear life. Their soft chest pressed against yours with desperation, leaving no room for air between you two as they caged you against the bike. Wrapped in their strong arms, you felt small and safe, left at the mercy of Haruka's unrestrained longing that you doubted there was an escape from.

But you didn't want to anyway.

"Fuck..." they huffed as their lips slid off yours, and you were finally able to gasp for breath. Their hands rested on your waist and back, fingers digging enough to keep you from floating away. Even so, you were lightheaded and almost dizzy, taken back by how passionately Haruka had consumed you within those few seconds.

You wanted them to go on forever.

Tugging at their shoulder, you cradled the nape of their neck and pressed your lips to theirs tenderly, eliciting a soft exhale as you moved to the corner of their mouth to kiss it lightly. You found their cheek, peppering it slowly and gently with all the affection and want that blossomed within you for their existence.

Haruka groaned softly and collected you in their arms, pulling you into a hug as they buried their nose behind your ear. They pecked the sensitive spot under your lobe, making you shudder breathlessly in their firm yet gentle grip. The relief and pleasure of feeling their hand rubbing up and down your spine was indescribable, and you gave into the urge of running your fingers into their soft and wavy hair, scratching their scalp softly with your nails.

They purred, still heaving as they tried to pull themself together in the comfort of your arms.

"This is better than I imagined," they admitted against your skin.

You stilled, wondering if you heard it right. "You were thinking about this?"

"A lot..."

They sounded genuinely embarrassed, and it made you feel giddy and mischievous.

"Didn't know I had such an effect on you," you teased.

They gently pulled away from your shoulder to look down at you with warning, but there was a glint of something playful in their eyes.

"Don't say it like I don't make you feel things either," they said. "You literally got angry when I didn't reach out to you."

"You left me hanging!" you scoffed as the pent-up annoyance crept in through your fingers that dug into their biceps. "Who the hell does that for two weeks, Haruka?!"

They smirked, brows furrowing as a shadow fell over their face that made evident a sinister flame in their pupils.

"You missed me that much, huh?"

You smacked them up the back of their head reflexively, causing them to laugh in surprise. Embarrassed and meek, you felt cornered by their statement, but it was too late to escape the confrontation.

"I did..." you grumbled, looking away from their teasing stare before they leaned in to peck your jaw and down your neck. They chuckled as they did so, unaware of how each kiss triggered an intense bloom of desire in your chest. You were hyperaware of their hands on your ribs, and how the tips of their thumbs rested just under your breasts as your chest flooded with something stronger than bliss.

Arousal.

Haruka's breath brushed down your cleavage as they left a lingering kiss on your collarbone, and your grip on their arms tightened.

"H-Haruka..." you gasped, and they stopped immediately to turn their head away, still leaning into you as one of their hands fell onto the bike to hold themself up.

They let out an agonized breath of restraint, groaning quietly as the palm on your rib slid down to your hip with a gentle pat. "I should take you home, Y/N."

"Already?" you said with a slight whine, wincing at how needy you sounded for a moment. Now that they were finally in front of you after so long, you didn't want to just let them get away.

Haruka cleared their throat and straightened up, looking at you with tenderness as they tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"It's been hard to stay away from you the past two weeks," they said. "I need to take you back while I'm still in control of myself."

You gave them a quizzical look. "In control of yourself? What would you even do to me out here in the open? We're just kissing."

They raised their brows dubiously as their eyelids lowered sensuously, scanning your face with a heavy gaze.

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart," they muttered with a slight raspiness to their voice. "I don't know what I'm capable of if I'm pushed to my limit."

Your lips parted in surprise at the sudden change in their demeanor, but you didn't want to stop. A part of you wanted to challenge them, nudge them to the edge to see what they meant.

But you snapped yourself out of it and nodded, clearing your throat bashfully as you straightened yourself out.

"My best friend is at my place right now," you reasoned with yourself. "I gotta get back before she wakes up and freaks out. My phone's still back there with no battery, so she might even call the police."

Haruka nodded and reached for their gloves to pull them on as you turned your gaze back to the sea. The sun was now shining in its full glory, its light bouncing off the foam and waves of the sea, turning its surface into a rippling mirror. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily against the bright blue sky.

I'm their ocean, you thought wistfully, and they're the sun.

Two things that complemented each other in ways that kept everything on the planet perfectly balanced, and you hoped that the two of you would do the same for each other.

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: Honestly, I think Haruka has it in them to fuck you on the beach in broad daylight if it ever came to that lmfao. I was wondering if I should just write it in, but I'm not in the mood for smut atm.

What if I make another one shot focusing on the smut that comes after they drop you home? I could do a prequel one shot of the meet cute as well 🤔 [update: I did it lol]

Eh, we'll see. I'm taking it slowly since it's been a while I wrote anything for leisure. Still very rusty. Hope y'all enjoyed, though. ~ Miki | Myca ✧ ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

OH MY GOD MY FIRST REAL POST ON TUMBLR JSDHFKKJASDHFAJKH HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO MEEE I'VE CELEBRATED WITH A HARUKA TENOH ONESHOT HEHE ENJOY

[rurustims]

hii there ! you can call me ruru or toffuu, i am plural however generally no other will post on here apart from me, ruru. please read this through for more information about me 🤍

🎐 . about disabilities & disorders of mine

im a high-complex support needs autistic / level 3 autistic with an intelectual disability (low iq). this means i heavily struggle with expressing what i mean correctly and process language differently. also have continued late regression of skills.

i have many disabilities and disorders. please be mindful, respectful and patient with me. Moderate ADHD Combined type, Mild visual impairment, learning disabilities, on the shizophrenic spectrum and mentally ill.

hypermobile enhlers danlers syndrome, chronic fatigue syndrome, chronic joint pain, unexplained momentary paralysis of the legs, medically suspected arthritis.

semiverbal with speech impairment, late met speech milestone. generally part time aac device user.

mildly hard of hearing and future wheelchair user.

🎐 . about my identity & who i am

im an intersex nonbinary transgirl, im also transfemneu and transxenofem and cistrans. i use a lot of xenogenders and am a pansexual lesbian.

i use shi/hir, kid/kidself, pie/pieself, mew/mewself pronouns for the most part, if you struggle with abstract pronouns, you may just use my name or it/itself.

🎐 . what will be on this account?

me rambling and silly posting, talking about my interests as well as my disabilities and my day.

continue below for further information on my beliefs and interests as well as tags.

🎐 . what are my stances / beliefs on things?

i support all types of queer folk and their identities and what they are, no matter if contradictory or not.

i support all plural folk no matter of origin or what labels they use, i wont exclude anyone or try to go at them because of how they believe their brain is wired.

i support educated and informed self diagnosis, however, intelectual disability is not self diagnosable.

lastly dont involve me in any discourse, may that be queer discourse, system discourse or ship discourse, i dont care and it's odd.

the misinformation and ignorance a lot of folk put onto the topic of the puzzle piece symbolism on autism is often ableist and should be worked on in the lower needs autism community.

🎐 . what i like, interests and so on!

special interests of mine

my little pony, specifically generation four or generation three merchandise. its been my special interest for about ten years now.

i have also had a special interest in autism for about seven years now.

and a game called adopt me on roblox has been a special interest of mine for five years now!

hyperfixations of mine which i have or which come back

breaking bad, shameless us, the amazing world of gumball, tokio hotel, cookie run kingdom, heartbreak high, isopods, snails, future man, avatar the last airbender and way more.

hobbies which i have right now

watching cartoons or east asian dramas

collecting toys, rocks, notebooks, stickers, manga, sensory items, stuffed animals and more

🎐 . the tags i might use in my posts

#rurusharing : just a general type of tag of mine, might use this when im just sharing about my day or something which happened.

#rururant : not particularly venting, but could be, it'll be sharing of some sort related to negativity.

#ruruspinterest : this is me talking about my special interests in any way!

rurufixates : mentioning of hyperfixations