#i cast ten million tags

[ame0nis]

hi

i made bracelets out of all of them. enjoy

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 2

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of... Sex..aftercare..limits..NDA..discomfort...virginity..masturbation..anxity, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), food, kissing, making out, Joel starts to get a little obsessive or toxic THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A mysterious message and a weekend away with the man who just bought you for a VERY large amount of money. What could go wrong?

WC: 5.9K

A/n: Thank you for all the love in the first part. My question for you all is, what do you want to see happen next? Any theories? Or expectations?

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

The initial bid was quickly followed by a murmur of excitement. "$600," someone called out confidently. You scanned the crowd, noticing the bidder: a sharply dressed woman with an air of authority. 

"$700," another voice chimed in, this time from a man in a sleek, black suit, his demeanor cool and composed. The numbers climbed higher, each bid like a jolt to your already racing heart. 

"One thousand," a younger man with a mischievous glint in his eye offered, leaning forward in his seat.

The bids continued to rise, the energy in the room intensifying with each new number. "Five thousand," declared a distinguished older gentleman, his silver hair gleaming under the lights. 

As the auctioneer teased the crowd, "Ten thousand, do I hear ten thousand?" you felt a wave of nausea. Your heart was pounding, and your stomach was in knots. The bids climbed higher and higher, the room a blur of faces and voices.

"Twenty thousand," someone else from the crowd stood up. "Thirty thousand, do I hear thirty thousand?"

You felt sick as the numbers continued to go up. Your heart was in your throat, and you felt dizzy and lightheaded. "Fifty thousand," the auctioneer's voice teased the crowd, sending another ripple of excitement through the room.

"Seventy thousand," a man in an extravagant velvet suit called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

As you tried to stay coherent, the numbers continued to climb. "One hundred thousand," someone else bid, and your anxiety spiked. 

"One hundred and twenty thousand," the auctioneer prodded. 

A tall man from the back corner suddenly stood up, his voice cutting through the chatter, "Nine hundred thousand." Your stomach flipped upside down. The man exuded an air of confidence and power, his presence dominating the room. His gaze was intense, filled with hunger and determination, and he seemed to linger on you.

Just as the bidding war was getting more intense, another man jumped up, his voice commanding attention. "One million dollars." He looked directly at the first man, his eyes full of challenge.

The crowd began to stir, eager to see what would happen next. "One-point-seven million," the first man replied, his voice steady and confident, his gaze still locked on you.

"Two million," the second man countered, raising an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm.

Suddenly, the room fell silent, everyone holding their breath. The auctioneer looked around, gauging the tension. Then, the first man spoke again, his voice clear and decisive, "Three million."

The second man's eyes widened in surprise, realizing he had been outbid. He shook his head in defeat, stepping back into the shadows. The crowd erupted in applause.

As the auctioneer declared, "Three million is the winning bid, going once... going twice... sold!" a sense of relief washed over you. But then, you heard the voice again, familiar and unsettling. It was Joel. 

Faith hurried to your side, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "You should be careful around Joel," she whispered. "He's intense and not someone to take lightly."

Joel walked up to the stage, his presence as commanding as ever. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours. You took his hand, and he helped you down from the stage with a surprising gentleness. His grip was firm, yet reassuring, and you found yourself leaning into his strength as he guided you through the crowd.

He guided you towards a table nestled in the quieter corner of the room, where a man awaited, already rising to his feet with a welcoming smile. "Hi there, I'm Tommy," he greeted, extending his hand in a gesture of hospitality. His demeanor exuded a relaxed charm, a stark contrast to Joel's intensity, and his eyes radiated a genuine warmth.

"Hi," you replied, your voice a bit shaky as you took his hand. Joel pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity. Joel then settled into the chair beside you, his arm draping casually over the back of your seat. You could feel the heat of his presence, both comforting and intimidating at the same time.

The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but at your table, an awkward silence stretched out. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, Faith's warnings echoing in your mind. Joel's intense gaze didn't waver, and you struggled to find your voice.

"So, uh, do you come to these things often?" you finally asked, trying to break the ice.

Joel's lips twitched into a slight smile. "Not really," he replied. "But when I do, I make sure it's worth it."

You swallowed hard, his words hanging heavily in the air. Tommy, sensing the tension, leaned in slightly. "Don't mind Joel," he said with a chuckle. "He's always been the strong, silent type. I'm here to make sure he doesn't scare you off."

You managed a nervous laugh. "Well, he's definitely... intimidating."

Joel's expression softened a bit more. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I just... I knew I had to have you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you, there was something undeniably captivating about him. "Thank you," you said softly, unsure of what else to say.

Tommy cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You glanced at him, grateful for the distraction. "I like reading, mostly. And I used to paint a lot before school got so hectic."

Joel's interest seemed piqued. "What do you paint?"

"Landscapes, mostly," you said, finding it easier to talk about your passion. "I love capturing the way light changes everything."

Joel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I'd like to see your work sometime."

Before you could respond, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room once more. "And now, presenting number 14, starting bid at $500."

You tensed, recognizing Faith's number. Joel's hand tightened slightly on the back of your chair as both you and Tommy turned your attention towards the stage. Faith walked out with confidence, her eyes scanning the crowd with a boldness that made you proud and anxious at the same time.

Tommy leaned closer to you, his voice low. "That's your friend, right? Faith?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and worry. "Yeah, that's her."

Tommy's gaze lingered on Faith for a moment, then he glanced at Joel. "Didn't you buy her once?"

Joel’s expression darkened slightly. "Only once," he confirmed, his tone cold. "She knows how to put on a show. Knows how to please the crowd."

Tommy smirked, his eyes fixed on Faith with a calculating glint. "Think she’s worth another go?"

Joel’s eyes followed Faith's every move, his jaw set in a hard line. "Maybe. She’s got her uses."

You felt a wave of discomfort wash over you at their callous remarks about Faith. She was your best friend, not just a commodity to be traded. The casual way they spoke about her, reducing her to mere utility, made your skin crawl. You tried to mask your unease, but it lingered in your expression.

The bidding for Faith started off slow but quickly gained momentum. You could see the determination in her eyes, matching the rising excitement in the room.

"One thousand," someone called out, followed by another bid of "Two thousand."

Tommy seemed to be considering his options. He glanced at you, then back at the stage. "She's a hot ticket. Could be a good investment."

Joel watched the scene unfold, his gaze never leaving Faith. "She can handle it. She’s been through worse."

The bids continued to climb, and you could see Faith holding her ground, her composure never wavering. Suddenly, Joel’s voice broke through the din. "Thirty thousand," he called out, his tone calm but firm.

You stared at him in surprise, and Tommy chuckled. "Looks like Joel’s interested."

Joel met your gaze, his expression unreadable. "Just making sure she has a fair shot," he said, but there was a protective edge in his voice.

"Thirty-five thousand!" someone else shouted, and you could see the tension in Joel's face.

"Forty thousand," Joel countered, his tone unwavering.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Fifty thousand," he said, raising the stakes.

Joel's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "Sixty thousand."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the competition. "Seventy thousand."

The auctioneer's voice cut through the room. "Seventy thousand, going once, going twice—"

"Eighty thousand," Joel declared, his gaze locking onto Faith.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ninety thousand."

Joel's expression darkened, and you could feel the tension between the two brothers. "One hundred thousand," Joel said, his voice low and dangerous.

The auctioneer's hammer hovered in the air. "One hundred thousand, going once, going twice—"

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Tommy interrupted, his tone smug.

The room fell silent, and Joel's eyes burned with a mix of frustration and resignation. The auctioneer's hammer came down. "Sold! Number 14 for one hundred and fifty thousand!"

Tommy looked satisfied as he watched Faith being led off the stage. "She's going to be quite the addition," he said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Joel's hand tightened on your shoulder, his expression hard. "Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Tommy laughed softly. "Oh, I do. Trust me."

As the room settled back into its buzz of conversation and anticipation, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He took the folder, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he said with a small smile, opening the folder and beginning to review its contents. You tried to focus on the conversation with Tommy, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel's attention on you, mingled with the echoes of Faith’s words in your mind.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, watching Faith being led away. "She’ll make someone very happy tonight."

Joel snorted. "She’s got a reputation for it. Knows how to work the room."

Tommy glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Think your friend will be okay?"

You nodded, trying to muster confidence. "Faith is strong. She knows what she’s doing."

Joel's hand slid from the back of your chair to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don’t worry. She’ll adapt. They always do." His words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down your spine.

Tommy smirked. "Well, let's see how long she lasts this time."

As the conversation continued between Joel, Tommy, and yourself, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He accepted the folder, his fingers briefly brushing yours. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he remarked, opening the folder to review its contents. You couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay within, and why Joel seemed so focused on them.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself from the table, his eyes still fixed on Faith as he made his way over to her. You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach at the thought of Faith being in his hands.

Turning back to Joel, you couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bid on her?"

Joel glanced up from the folder, his expression guarded. "She's an interesting choice," he replied cryptically, his tone giving nothing away.

"But why her?" you pressed, needing more than just a vague answer.

Joel hesitated, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Let's just say she's caught my attention before," he replied evasively.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Whatever Joel had planned, it was clear that Faith was at the center of it. But as you watched Tommy approach her, you couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a dangerous game, with no way out.

Joel seemed to sense your unease, and he leaned back in his chair, studying you thoughtfully. "You seem nervous," he observed, his voice low.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Joel nodded in understanding, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's a lot to take in," he agreed, reaching for his glass and taking a long sip.

As he set the glass back down, he glanced at the folder in his hand. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said casually, though there was an undercurrent of dismissal in his tone.

You watched in silence as he stood up, the folder tucked under his arm. "Take care," he added, before turning to leave.

A wave of relief washed over you as he walked away, though it was tinged with a sense of apprehension. 

As Joel got up to leave, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity mingled with a tinge of anxiety. "Wait," you called out before you could stop yourself, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

He paused, turning back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Yes?" he prompted, his tone tinged with a hint of impatience.

You hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. "How... how am I supposed to get home?" you finally blurted out, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead.

Joel's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "That's not my concern," he replied cryptically, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. With Joel gone, you suddenly felt very alone.

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension as you glanced down at your phone. The lobby furniture wasn't very comfortable, but you preferred it to the makeout sessions and almost porn-worthy sounds emanating from the ballroom where the auction had ended. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low murmur of intimate conversations, creating a strange juxtaposition of luxury and lewdness.

A message flashed on the screen from a number you didn't recognize, adding to the unsettling atmosphere of the night. "Did you get home safe?" it read, the concern evident in the sender's words.

"I'm nowhere close to home," you replied, your response tinged with hesitation. Who could be reaching out to you at this hour, and why?

Almost immediately, another message popped up. "Need a ride?" it asked, accompanied by a link to a ride-sharing app. Your instincts urged caution, but the uncomfortable ambiance of the dimly lit lobby made you consider the offer more seriously.

"Who is this?" you typed, fingers hovering over the send button. You needed to know more before trusting a stranger.

"If you take the ride, I'll pay for it. And I'll call you to tell you who I am," came the prompt reply, offering a small glimmer of reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

You put your phone down to think about how reckless accepting the offer might be, then considered the cost. The Uber from campus to the venue had already been $50, split between you and Faith. Did you really want to spend more money? No.

"Fine," you sent the message quickly, trying to commit before you could second-guess yourself.

Twenty minutes later, one of the workers caught your attention. "There's a cab for you, miss." You smiled at him and made your way outside, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. This was definitely more than the $50 you and Faith had split for the ride here, you thought as you opened the car door.

You got comfortable in your seat and messaged Faith that you were leaving for the night before your phone rang just as the car got onto campus.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Hey, sweets," came the familiar southern drawl. It was Joel.

"Joel?!" You stopped in your tracks, a mix of surprise and apprehension in your voice. "How the hell did you get my number?"

He chuckled softly. "It was all in your file, remember?"

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. He was right. "Did you get home safe?" he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

You sighed. “I'm walking there now.”

His tone changed as he continued, “Walking? I got you a cab?”

You smiled at his concern. “Relax, I'm walking to my dorm.”

“Are you close?” he asked.

You clicked the button to the elevator. “Yeah, just about to head up. So, why did you bid on me?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you stepped into the elevator.

Joel's voice was thoughtful. “You caught my eye. There was something about you that stood out.”

“Stood out how?” you pressed, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Hard to explain,” he replied. “But I felt like I needed to know more about you.”

You smiled, feeling a strange mix of flattery and suspicion. “Well, now you know I like to paint landscapes.”

Joel laughed softly. “Yeah, and I'd still like to see your work sometime.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out into the hallway. “Maybe someday,” you said, walking towards your dorm room.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” Joel said, his voice steady and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a student, obviously. Trying to make ends meet with a couple of part-time jobs. I like reading, painting, and trying to keep my head above water with school.”

Joel listened intently. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, but it keeps me busy,” you replied, unlocking your dorm room door and stepping inside.

“What about you?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

Joel sighed. "Not much to tell. My brother and I run a high-earning contracting business. It keeps us pretty busy, moving around a lot."

You sat on your bed, kicking off your shoes. "Sounds exciting. What kind of contracting?"

"Construction, mostly. Big projects, high stakes," he replied. "We take on jobs that require precision and a lot of planning. It's demanding but rewarding."

You leaned back against your pillows, trying to relax after the chaotic night. "It must be nice to see something you've built come together."

"Yeah, it is," Joel agreed, his tone softening slightly. "There's a satisfaction in creating something lasting."

There was a pause, a moment of comfortable silence, before Joel cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you about something."

You tensed, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Some things came up in your file," Joel began, choosing his words carefully. "Things I think we should discuss."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Like what?"

Joel hesitated before speaking again. "It mentions you're a virgin."

Your breath caught in your throat, the bluntness of his words hitting hard. "Why does that matter?"

"It’s part of the agreement we entered into," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I want to talk about what that means for both of us."

You sat up, heart pounding. "I don't understand."

"I'd like you to come over to my place for the weekend," Joel continued. "We can go over the contract, and I can answer any questions you have. It's important that we’re both on the same page."

The suggestion hung heavily in the air, the implications clear. You felt a mix of fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite identify. "This is all very sudden," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Joel replied gently. "But it’s important. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything. That you understand what's expected."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I come over... what happens then?"

"We talk," Joel said simply. "We figure out what this means for us. And we take it from there."

The weight of the decision pressed down on you. The night had already been overwhelming, and now this. But there was a part of you that was intrigued, that wanted to know more about this enigmatic man and what he wanted from you.

"Okay," you said finally. "I’ll come over this weekend."

"Good," Joel replied, a note of relief in his voice. "I'll pick you up on Friday evening."

Thursday night, your phone buzzed with a message from Joel. You opened it, heart pounding, eager to see what he had to say.

"Hey, I wanted to give you some more details for this weekend. I'll pick you up at 6 PM tomorrow evening."

You read the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Another message followed.

"Pack enough clothes for a couple of days. Casual is fine, but bring something nicer for dinner. And anything else you might need to feel comfortable."

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly. "Got it. Anything else I should bring?"

A few moments later, Joel's reply came through. "Just yourself. And an open mind."

You set your phone down, the weight of the upcoming weekend settling in. You began to mentally prepare yourself, thinking through what to pack and what to expect.

The next day passed in a blur of nervous energy. You spent most of the afternoon packing a small suitcase, carefully selecting clothes that fit Joel's description. Casual wear, a nicer dress for dinner, and a few personal items that you hoped would make you feel at ease.

As the clock approached 6 PM, you found yourself pacing your dorm room, second-guessing your decisions. Your phone buzzed again, breaking the cycle of your anxious thoughts.

"I'm here," read Joel's message.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your suitcase, and headed outside. The evening air was cool against your skin as you spotted Joel's black Ford F-150 parked near the entrance. He stepped out as you approached, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours with a steady gaze.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, trying to muster a smile.

He took your suitcase and placed it in the bed of the truck, then opened the passenger door for you. You slipped inside

As Joel started the truck and drove away from campus, you stole glances at him, trying to read his expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken questions and possibilities.

"Do you have any questions before we get there?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

You thought for a moment, then decided to voice your concerns. "What exactly are we going to discuss?"

Joel's eyes flicked over to you briefly before returning to the road. "We'll go over the details of our arrangement, make sure you understand everything. And I want to make sure you're comfortable with the terms."

You nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with his straightforwardness. "And... what happens if I'm not?"

"Then we figure it out together," Joel said firmly. "This is about making sure we're both on the same page."

The city lights gradually gave way to the serene, picturesque landscape of the countryside. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and tranquil lakes, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

Eventually, Joel turned onto a narrow, winding road that led to a secluded lakeside property. The house that came into view was stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance. Nestled among tall trees and overlooking a pristine lake, it felt like a world away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Joel parked the truck and helped you with your suitcase, guiding you to the front door. As you stepped inside, the warmth and comfort of the house enveloped you. Hardwood floors, large windows, and tasteful decor created an inviting atmosphere.

"Welcome to my home," Joel said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Let me give you a tour."

He led you through the spacious living room, with its cozy fireplace and plush furniture. The kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and a large island. Joel showed you the dining area, which offered a breathtaking view of the lake through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"We'll have dinner here later," he said, pausing to let you take in the view. "It's one of my favorite spots in the house."

You continued the tour, passing a home office, a library filled with books, and a den with a large flat-screen TV. Finally, Joel led you upstairs to the guest room where you would be staying. The room was beautifully decorated, with a comfortable bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom.

"Make yourself at home," Joel said, setting your suitcase down. "Dinner is at 8 PM. Please put on something nice; I want to discuss our contract in a more professional way."

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Thank you, Joel."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time to settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

After he left, you took a moment to unpack and freshen up. You chose a dress that you hoped struck the right balance between elegance and professionalism. As you prepared for dinner, your mind raced with questions about what Joel would say and what the future might hold.

At precisely 8 PM, you made your way downstairs. The dining table was set with care, and Joel stood by the window, gazing out at the lake. He turned as you approached, his eyes taking in your appearance with a brief but appreciative glance.

"You look lovely," he said, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you replied, taking your seat.

The table was set perfectly, with red roses in the center adding a touch of elegance. Joel's seat was at the head, and yours was next to him.

“So, what do you think?” Joel asked, watching as you took a sip of wine.

“Of the house?” You giggled for a moment, setting your glass down. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

Joel smiled. “And the food?”

You glanced down at your plate and took a bite. “Oh, shit.” You hadn’t expected it to taste so good.Joel had prepared: a perfectly seared filet mignon, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus sautéed with garlic and lemon zest. The flavors were so rich.

Joel's smile widened. “Eat up. We’ll go over the details once we’re done. Oh, and that’s going to be your only glass of wine tonight.”

You looked at Joel, puzzled. He quickly explained, “You’re still only 20, and you need a clear head. The wine’s just to take the edge off.”

Joel took a sip of his own wine, and you let your mind wander. The meal was mostly silent, the clattering of plates being the loudest sound in the house. Faith had talked to you last night and helped you pick out your dress. She and Tommy were doing well, and she used her contract to help explain what yours might be like.

The first document was what you expected: an NDA agreement. It was short and to the point.

The second form you picked up was different from what Faith had described. Instead of being a "down and dirty" list, the title read, "Contractual Agreement of Limits Between Dominant and Submissive."

“So, don’t be scared or intimidated by the second form,” Faith had said. “It may sound daunting, but it’s just to make sure you’re comfortable with what will happen. I can help you through it. The rest, well… you and your Dom will be having lots and lots, and I mean lots, of experimental sex.”

You gasped and playfully hit her. “Not for my first time, right?” you asked, anxious.

Faith laughed and gave you a teasing look. “Not right away. But if your Dom wants to do that, it’s up to them. It’s all about consent. And don’t worry, you’ll… you’ll have fun. I promise. And if you need more time to be ready, there are plenty of ways to experiment and get comfortable. Just remember, you always have the right to say ‘no’ and stop the session. Your Dom is there to make you feel pleasure, not discomfort.”

Back in the present, Joel watched you with a calm intensity as you finished your meal. he stood and retrieved the vanilla folder. He opened it and laid the documents on the table. 

“First, the NDA,” Joel said. “It ensures that everything we discuss and do remains confidential.” He slid the paper and a pen toward you. After reading it carefully, you signed and handed it back.

“Now, the contract,” Joel continued, placing the more detailed document in front of you. “This outlines our arrangement, including boundaries, limits, and expectations. It's important to be thorough so we’re both on the same page.”

You scanned the pages, your eyes catching on certain terms and conditions that made you blush. Joel patiently walked you through each section.

“Section one covers our roles. I’ll be the Dominant, and you’ll be the submissive,” he explained. “This section also outlines the responsibilities we each have.”

“What if I’m not comfortable with something?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Joel’s expression softened. “That’s what section two is for. It lists hard limits—things you absolutely don’t want to do—and soft limits—things you might be open to exploring over time.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but reassured by Joel's explanations about safewords and aftercare. Suddenly, something washed over you, and you stood from your seat. Taking his and your plates, along with the silverware and glasses, you moved toward Joel's kitchen. He followed you, confused.

“Hey? What's the matter?” he asked.

You smiled at him and grabbed the other dishes left on the table. “The table's dirty. That's no way to do business,” you joked as you began to wash the dishes. “Do you have a garbage disposal?”

Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. He reached over to grab a towel, gently drying your hands and ridding them of soap.

You sighed. “I'm a virgin.” Joel looked into your eyes intently as you continued, giving up on formality. “Fuck, Joel, I'm nervous. I'm not even sure if I want to have sex. The closest I've gotten to having sex is my vibrator.”

Joel let go of your hands. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the counter.

“What?” you asked, surprised.

“Sit.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” And with that, he kissed you.

His lips were firm yet gentle against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened as his hands found their way to your waist, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. You could taste the lingering wine on his lips, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

Joel's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them, allowing him in. The kiss grew more intense, more demanding, as his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body reacting to his touch in ways you hadn't anticipated. The sensation of his tongue exploring your mouth, combined with the heat of his body pressed against yours, ignited a fire within you. You felt yourself melting into him, your previous nervousness beginning to dissipate.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you charged with electricity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah. That was...”

“Intense?” he finished for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Tonight, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.”

His rough, calloused hands slid up your dress, sending shivers down your spine. "Unless you want to try something..." he murmured, his voice low and tantalizing. You blushed, biting your lip as you looked up at Joel.

He pulled you in for another deep, passionate kiss before moving to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to the parts of your skin that weren't covered by your dress. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs gently. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Shh... trust me," he whispered, his hands wandering under your dress to pull down your panties. He slid them into his pocket with a mischievous grin before returning his attention to you. His lips brushed over your calves, teasing you lightly as you bit your lip in anticipation.

Joel suddenly lifted your legs over his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your clit. The sensation made your legs tremble, the warmth of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Without holding back, he began to explore you with his mouth, his tongue lapping up every drop of your arousal as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You moaned, your head falling back against the cabinet with a soft thud, but you didn't care. When Joel paused to check if you were okay, you grabbed his salt-and-pepper hair, pushing him further into your pussy. He gripped your legs harder, his tongue moving faster as your moans grew louder.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, panting as your orgasm built. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, and you finally came on his face. Joel let your legs slide off his shoulders, wiping his mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Dessert was good," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Instead of responding, you swiftly pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The night had only just begun, and you were ready for whatever came next.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. Scooping you up in his strong arms, he carried you princess-style up to the guest room where you were staying. He set you gently on your feet, his touch lingering. "Use the bathroom," he instructed, his voice firm but caring.

You nodded and went to the bathroom, the cool tile floor grounding you after the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. When you emerged, you found Joel had set out your pajamas neatly on the bed. Next to them was a note in his bold handwriting: "Forget the contract. I have something better in mind."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the note, a blend of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you.

[joelletwo]

resolving loquats. badly

if i had more time i would have written a shorter letter. sorry

loquats the arc of threes - miharu with its three guardians, the two exorcists and their tag-along marriage counselor natsume, three chapters, etc etc

reading it for years ive been stuck on how none of the parallels resolve cleanly. comparisons are drawable between just about every character and every story element, but none really make a straight line to a neat conclusion.

most roadblocky to me is matoba's similarity to both masakiyo and masakiyo's would-be youkai companion. what does it mean to compare him to both the man shutting himself off from his desires and the being trying (unsuccessfully) to reach out and fulfill them? what does the actual point of miharu as an arc boil down to and why does it need to be so obfuscatory?

and then earlier this year unrelatedly i read the seminal text on metaphoric triangulation and romantic horniness. and went aha. lol. it didnt actually help me it just unleashed me but its been fun.

i still dont have it together enough to do my dream of untangling every single connection we've all been drilling into for years all in one place. i still think if i could i could unlock midorikawa's brain. but i can lay out

(dont try too hard to read these)

[a square diagram messily laying out relationships between masakiyo, the interfering youkai, matoba, and the mihashira (miharu's three guardians), the square then broken along the diagonal into two triangles showing how matoba identifies with both masakiyo and the youkai, and both of them displace a desire of theirs onto the youkai and the mihashira respectively]

[two triangles - 1. the identification/desire relationship between masakiyo, his beloved, and the interfering youkai, all able to be cast as matoba 2. the same between matoba, mihashira, and an interchangeable miharu/natori]

[two triangles showing unresolved/unbalanced relationships between 1. yorishima, matoba, and natori and 2. matoba, natori, and loquats]

at this point i started getting incoherent. and then i died for ten million years from Job

but what im still trying to work towards. is that matoba - who sits on the I Hate My Life Bench with masakiyo (with whom he shares a few on-the-nose name connections to really hammer it home), has long black hair and one eye like the youkai who wants someone stubbornly alone on their own path, is jealous of the mihashira's naive commitment to obsolete promises - has a link to basically every story element that represents Unfulfilled Desire.

everything that could mean to him in this arc - quitting exorcism, keeping promises, being the most capable vs relying on others, shouldering a legacy, enjoying a loquat - remains ambiguous. but he Wants. strongly enough that his usual mask keeps slipping bc he's having to think about it. he's The Wanterrrrrr.

and natori, well,

[spreadsheet with three categories of question marked relationship to each other - subjects with displaced desire (teen seiji, hiiragi, yorishima, touko), objects (all natori), and displaced objects (all loquats)]

well he's just in hot demand. what's he do in this arc? people want relationships with him, and the means they have available to get that is through the available loquats picking opportunity. he is. the universal object of desire. he's swept along with the flow for all the setup to this arc more than he's really an Actor (lol) in it.

(and do they both, to complete the triangle, make natsume the universal Means of Resolution, like how everyone uses loquats to get natori? don't involve natsume in your exorcist business even tho i do that, but if he was here he could solve everything for us, and now he's gonna get in the middle of our loquats reminiscing unbeknownst to both of us for unclear reasons,,, well he doesnt really solve anything for them. concretely. but he does. with his 90 chapters of development with both of them. serve as a wedge to open up some space in their closed-off relationship.)

but so anyways. matoba the wanter and natori the object to want. simple, even if all matoba wants, if he can admit it, is to enjoy a loquat with a peer and nothing more. so who's driving this car and spinning it round and round in unresolvable metaphors. midorikawa youre just making it more tragically gay by making it plausibly deniable.

but in the arc of Unfulfilled Desire That Is Also Self-Inflicted - the foolish mihashira could just stop showing up don't they know, the youkai could just go enjoy the freedom it's been given, miharu could just let his beloved share his burden - he can't admit it. he lets all the metaphors get all tangled and tangled and tangled because he's caught in between his desires for connection and withdrawal and isn't able or willing to resolve that tension himself.

but its NOT the arc of repeated cycles - matoba would let himself get stuck there, but natori in the backhalf is the one to take action to break us out. by offering his shoulder. over and over and over. and then over and over in every arc after but lets not talk about that.

so natori makes it simple again. and what we get when its simple is just direct one-to-one visual parallels of matoba and masakiyo. and what we get when this gets animated is an extra scene of masakiyo with his (romantic) beloved, pushing her away (romantically), refusing to let anyone's support in or any of his (romantic) desires be fulfilled (he didnt even succeed at keeping his house alive!!!! lol common cringefail exorcist behavior). and what we end the arc on is matoba... made up of twenty layers of self-denial... not quite able to accept it... but paralyzed by not being able to reject natori's help anymore

which is. mwah. chefs kiss beautiful incremental excruciating not-progress. makes a man want to affect the trout population

[bronzeagepizzeria]

A COMPREHENSIVE DEFENCE OF EVERYTHING TENTOO (PART 1)

Because unfortunately there’s a lot of stuff out there to refute.

so i guess a lot of people are watching doctor who right now because of good omens. and that, for some reason, means the tags are being constantly subjected to Certain tentoo takes so...it's meta time.

in this meta, i'll be rehashing how, exactly, tentoo is the doctor, and answering some other commonly posed objections to the pairing that is tentoo x rose.

But he's not the Doctor! Rose ended up with a copy!

First things first. The entire show revolves around the philosophical concept of Cartesian Dualism--the idea that the soul/spirit/mind has an entirely separate existence from the physical body. This is the basic principle of regeneration; when the Doctor regenerates, every organ, every cell in his body changes, and yet he remains the same man. What makes the Ninth Doctor the same man as the Tenth Doctor? There's something underlying here---the memories, the mind, the spirit. The body, has absolutely no significance.

In S6E6, The Almost People, we are introduced to the Ganger!Doctor. This is a man made out of like, slime, but he has the Eleventh Doctor's memories. Thus, he IS the Doctor. The Doctor himself says this.

In S9E11, Heaven Sent, the Twelfth Doctor is reduced to ashes millions and millions of times, and yet each time his body is 'recreated' or 'cloned', he remains the same person. Why? Because the memories persist. The soul lives on.

Here, have it straight from the horse's mouth.

"A man is the sum of his memories. A Time Lord even more so." - The Fifth Doctor, The Five Doctors, 1983

More evidence? What's the first thing the Tenth Doctor tries to do in Born Again to convince Rose that he really is the Doctor she knows?

DOCTOR: Very first word I ever said to you. Trapped in that cellar...Surrounded by shop window dummies. Oh...such a long time ago. I took your hand...I said one word. Just one word...Run.

Right. He shows her that he has the same memories.

Now cast your minds back to S4E13. What does the Metacrisis Doctor say when he's trying to convince Rose he's the same man?

Therefore, according to the lore established by the show itself, his missing heart has no significance to who he is. He is the Doctor.

2. But he's a CLONE.

Okay, first of all, he's not. He's a biological metacrisis, the only one of his kind. He has only one heart, i.e, he is not biologically identical to the Time Lord Doctor.

Second, even if he was, he would STILL be the Doctor. As established above.

Third, we see a Martha clone in S4E4, The Sontaran Stratagem, and she is a far cry from what we see of Tentoo.

3. Alright so he's not a copy. He's still only A Doctor! He isn't Ten, he's Half-Donna!

So. We've established that what makes a man is his memories.

If the Doctor had Donna's memories, he wouldn't be the Doctor anymore--which makes him ending up with Rose redundant. Here's the silver lining though.

Tentoo has only ten's memories. His own memories.

'How do we know this?' you may ask. Let's examine the script of S4E13, Journey's End.

(The Daleks spin around on the spot.) DALEK: Help me. Help me! DONNA: And the other way. NEW DOCTOR: What did you do? DONNA: Trip switch circuit-breaker in the psychokinetic threshold manipulator. NEW DOCTOR: But that's brilliant! DOCTOR: Why did we never think of that? DONNA: Because you two were just Time Lords, you dumbos, lacking that little bit of human. That gut instinct that comes hand in hand with planet Earth. I can think of ideas you two couldn't dream of in a million years.

Not very likely if Tentoo had her memories, right? This happens again, in the TARDIS Coral deleted scene:

DONNA: If you shatterfry the plasmic shell....you accelerate the growth power by fifty-nine. DOCTOR & NEW DOCTOR: We never thought of that.

There we go. Canon evidence that Tentoo does not have Donna's mind/memory/thought process. Instead, we see his mind being constantly referred to as that of his Time Lord counterpart.

4. So what exactly happened during the 'metacrisis' then? Why was Donna unable to sustain the change whereas we're meant to assume Tentoo is doing fine?

What happened in JE was a two-way metacrisis.

Tentoo is a biological metacrisis, i.e his mind remained the same, but the regeneration energy in his hand picked up on Donna's human biology and grew a human body. (His body is PART human, as in the ageing part. He'll grow old, and never regenerate.)

Whereas, Donna's body remained the same; she got the Doctor's mind, becoming the DoctorDonna. She is essentially the Doctor AND Donna, at this point in time.

At one point in JE, there are three Doctors ("There's three of you?") because as proved earlier, anybody that has the Doctor's memories, is the Doctor. There is: the Time Lord Doctor (Ten), the Human Doctor (Tentoo) and the Doctor Donna.

Since Donna was a human, she could not sustain the Doctor's mind alongside her own, which is what led to it burning up. It was simply too much for a human brain to take.

Tentoo, as proven earlier, does not have Donna's mind.

5. But he talks funny.

We are shown the Doctor picking up her mannerisms. The Doctor regularly picks up things from people he travels with. He "imprints" on Rose as a newly regenerated being and is shown to pick up on his companions' accents very often.

On a more analytical level, the "Donna mannerisms" bit is obviously comedic relief in an extremely action packed episode (evidenced by the fact that he literally never sounds like Donna again throughout the episode) and isn't meant to be taken that seriously. In every other scene, he is played by David Tennant, exactly as ten.

Tentoo is the Tenth Doctor, but human. In every way that matters, he is exactly Ten.

6. But he's Season 2 Ten! He doesn't have any of the character development Time-Lord Ten does!

Erm. Yeah. You've got to watch the show again.

7. Alright. Okay. If Tentoo is the exact same man, he would get bored of a life on earth with Rose. They'd never last.

Now we've got to address a key aspect of the Doctor's arc. (Keep in mind, when I refer to the Doctor herein, I only mean the Ninth and Tenth, the ones written by Russell T. Davies.)

The Doctor always wanted to be human.

The Doctor, and the Tenth Doctor in particular, wants to be human. It’s peppered here and there throughout the first four seasons, but if you watch closely, there’s this underlying current of wistfulness in him (“I’ve never had a life like that”; “The one adventure I can never have”), not to mention the entirety of the Human Nature two parter.

I think to some extent Rose made him feel human, and it’s his alienness that’s the big barrier in their relationship. He doesn't allow himself to love her the way he wants to because of the difference in their life spans. Because he's a Time-Lord, and he has a responsibility to the Universe, and he can't be more selfish than he's being already, keeping her with him.

She makes him want to be human, to be loved and to be free to love her as he wants to. She even helps him forget, sometimes, that he isn't human. Remember his expression in The Stolen Earth when he sees her again? He is so glad to see her. In that moment, it doesn't matter that they can never be together, because Rose loves him so much she came back.

I'm reminded of a quote from Buffy The Vampire Slayer:

I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man.

And then bam. The almost-regeneration. The crushing reminder that he is intrinsically different from her species, from what he aches to be. Constant and selfish and free. Human.

Giving Rose up to his other self was the most selfless, loving thing he could’ve done. His other self, who is uninhibited, unburdened from the responsibilities of a Time Lord—can and will give Rose everything she deserves.

8. Just make Rose immortal then! Happy endings all around.

Now you might say, the earlier problem could be solved simply by making Rose immortal—she’d stay with the Doctor forever and she’d never have to leave him!

Here's the thing. Being immortal is Not Good.

A constant theme throughout seasons 1-4 is that immortality is not desirable. There is a constant motif of “living too long”, whether it be from Jack, the Face of Boe (cough), or the Doctor himself.

Things are only precious and meaningful because they end—the human way of doing things? Fast, and bright, and temporary? It’s the right way.

One of the many reasons the Doctor loves Rose is because she’s human—it’s a big part of why he’s attracted to her in the first place.

Besides, an immortal Rose would mean having to outlive her family, her friends, everyone she’s ever known—who else has experienced that? Oh, yeah. The Doctor. I can’t imagine him wanting her to go through the same thing under any circumstances.

9. Rose would never accept him. She wanted the adventure too, not just the Doctor.

This is the Rose who instantly felt connected to a parallel version of her parents. Remember, this Pete and Jackie had NO memory of her, and yet, she loved them. Tentoo IS Ten.

She also constantly refers to Tentoo as The Doctor, so I have faith in her figuring it out just fine.

As for the adventure, being human doesn't mean they're suddenly going to become accountants or work in childcare or something. (Looking at you, Jenny Colgan.)

Canon (Big Finish) tells us that they both work with UNIT/Torchwood, so we know that they're out there, defending Pete's World together.

'What about the TARDIS?' you may ask. Well, the writer considers it canon that the previously linked TARDIS coral scene did take place, so we can imagine that they're out there, exploring a new Universe.

But even if they didn’t have a TARDIS, we only need to look to S1E13, The Parting of the Ways, to understand that Rose cares about the Doctor above all else.

ROSE: But what do I do every day, mum? What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it? MICKEY: It's what the rest of us do. ROSE: But I can't! MICKEY: Why, because you're better than us? ROSE: No, I didn't mean that. But it was. It was a better life. And I don't mean all the travelling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That don't matter. The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life. You know he showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away.

Of course Rose loves the TARDIS. She just loves the Doctor more.

More evidence? S2E8, The Impossible Planet:

DOCTOR: ....They were grown, not built. And with my own planet gone, we're kind of stuck. ROSE: Well, it could be worse. This lot said they'd give us a lift. DOCTOR: And then what? ROSE: I don't know. Find a planet, get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe.

Clearly, she doesn't mind settling down---not if it means staying with the Doctor.

DOCTOR: I promised Jackie I'd always take you back home. ROSE: Everyone leaves home in the end. DOCTOR: Not to end up stuck here. ROSE: Yeah, but stuck with you, that's not so bad. DOCTOR: Yeah? ROSE: Yes.

Here's another conversation she has with Jackie in S2E12, Army of Ghosts:

JACKIE: No, but really. When I'm dead and buried, you won't have any reason to come back home. What happens then? ROSE: I don't know. JACKIE: Do you think you'll ever settle down? ROSE: The Doctor never will, so I can't. I'll just keep on travelling.

"I can't." Not I don't want to, or I'm not interested---I can't. Rose is in love with the Doctor, and she knows at some level that the feeling is mutual. She also knows, he will never fully act on it.

But that's alright, because she loves him so much she's made her peace with it and with his limitations.

And instead of the typical female protagonist sacrificing things for her love interest trope, we get RTD flipping it on its head and letting Ten deliver the ultimate sacrifice, perform the ultimate act of love---letting Rose go.

By doing this, he's giving her everything he never could. It's beautiful. It's heartbreaking. It's the best love story ever put to television.

Let me conclude with this quote:

“Firstly, Rose is neither shallow nor stupid. She doesn’t settle for second best. She gets the person she fell in love with. And, as a bonus, he’s now able to spend the rest of his life with her, as she with him. Secondly, the very same person who experienced the heartbreak of losing Rose for the first time now experiences joy at the prospect of a lifetime in her company. In this full sense, the Doctor who lost, finally wins.” - Paul Dawson, Doctor Who and Philosophy.

10. But the Doctor and Rose ending up together is disgusting! They were platonic!

…..

[coastxlwaters]

Scale 1-10 how ✨pRePpY✨ is my thumb cast?

Tagging all mutuals cause I’m high off of c h e e s e and LIESSSSSS

@morriganfey @bittyfromquotev @strawberry-arrowtip @capring @stormbreaker-290 @weirdenbyferret @escapetheslaughter @eternal-soup @yelesomeblue (tagging ur main since ik u don’t want ten million notifs) @im-just-a-dumb-gay @im-just-a-dumb-gay @inkyucu @itsahotminuteinbetween @o-i-w-u @potatotato-26 @froggielovescoffee @just-a-normal-nova @knizuu @liminal---nightmare-aliza @librarian-computer @multifandomcutie13 @thekillermaretwinz

Iffy tags, as idk if they r open to being tagged Oufgh: @sunny-inajar @bumble-the-sun-bee @ikamigami

My cast is so ✨PrEpPy✨ right??

[nsyncat]

OK, so this is my first post EVER since I joined Tumblr like ten years ago. Always been a lurker, enjoying all of the wonderful things here, the gifs, fics, ships, art, all the knowledge and all the amazing heritage posts, but never posting and hardly reblogging, I don't know why, was always afraid I would make a mistake or reblogg incorrectly...

Anyway, the reason this is my first time posting is because THAT amazing moment that happened a week ago, and I've been losing my mind ever since, and unfortunately I have nobody to share this excitement with that will understand... So I had to get it out somehow, and here seems like the perfect place to do so.

I don't know if anybody will read this or pay it any attention, but never mind, I just have TO. GET. IT ALL. OUT!

So I've been a loyal fan of 9-1-1 this past six years, got hooked to these kind of first responders dramas, also Station 19 and then of course Lone Star. I fell in love with the writing, the drama and action, the characters of course, the emotional and moving stories, both of the regular cast and the people in the emergencies (am not afraid to admit that I cried more than a few times, especially when I was pregnant... woooh, that was a tough season for me).

Anyway, like everyone else, got invested in Buck's storyline and of course hopped on the Buddie train in season 2. And obviously there was something between them, and the fandom always clowned themselves that "in the next season SOMETHING is going to happen!" and I always wanted to believe it, and also fooled myself a few times but always was the cold harsh realist and realised it was not going to happen... But enjoyed the ride nonetheless, read amazing fics, saw wonderful fanart, read interesting breakdowns and analysis.

And then 704 happened and I'm not joking or exaggerating, my life changed!

Confirming that Buck is Bi was amazing! I'm ashamed to admit that I really thought it won't happen, EVER! So I still can't believe it actually happened (thank you soooo much ABC!) and like a lot of you, I've been on cloud nine this past week and can't wait for tomorrows episode (also not from the US), literally counting down the hours.

And look, I love Buddie, I really do, but I fell in love with TEVAN (my favourite one yet) 😍 and been OBSESSED with them this past week. Just from those few moments between them and what we barely know that is going to happen the next episode, I truly fell in love with them and really hope they make it as far as they can. I think its an amazing thing for Buck and also CANT. STOP. WATCHING THE KISS! The actors did an incredible job, especially Oliver, also with his spoken support of the storyline and his love for Buck. Such a KING! So this whole thing is huge.

And I have a one-year-old, my life is hectic with taking care of a little human being, a hubby who is also very busy, work, family and a million other things and this past year with a heavy heart I kinda neglected reading fics, and it was my main hobby, my escape, my one and constant thing in my LIFE since I was 12. I do read here and there, but not like I used to, reading hours and hours and into the night, multi chapters and long oneshots, in multiple fandoms, and now whenever I do get to read something once In a blue moon I'm not fully invested or enjoying it because either I'm tired or have something else more important to do. And unfortunately, eventually I noticed that I lost this fire, the passion in me and it left me sad and heartbroken...

And then something incredible happened. Ever since that earth-shattering kiss, the fire and passion came back! Holy shit! I've been reading and ENJOYING fics nonstop this whole week, I can't concentrate on work thinking about everything and reading in-between tasks, I use every single free minute I have to search new fics and scroll through the tags, I go to sleep late because I need to read just one more fic(!!!) even tough I have to wake up very early in the morning and I DON'T EVEN CARE. I'm thinking about it sooo much and imagining new scenarios in my head, and feeling giddy and happy, in a good mood a lot of the time, more optimistic, knowing I have a new and exciting place I can "escape" to, like I had in the past.

Its not that i'm not happy, I have an amazing son and a wonderful husband and I cherish every moment with them, but these are hard and difficult times and life can be hard and stressful and I'm a different kind of happy... So these past few days have been nourishment for my soul and my mood, it sounds so silly but its true! I'm feeling a bit like my old self and it's amazing.

And if someone did read this or did pay attention and got to this point, sorry for the long rant and thank you so much for the patience and understanding 🙏 I love you and wish you a wonderful weekend and happy Buck's-first-date-with-a-man day! 🥰

So I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, ABC, Oliver, Lou and you crazy lot for resurrecting my old fangirl self 😌 I'm so grateful for all your posts, your takes, your similar enjoyment and of course your amazing fics you're writing and sharing 🩵

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Rainy Days

Warm blankets cover their intertwined forms. Outside, rain pours relentlessly, raindrops hitting off the window panes.

Inside though, the space heater fills the room with a cozy warmth.

John rubs his nose against Wilbur's. “Shitty night for a storm, huh? We're gonna miss the meteor shower.”

“I don't think I'm missing much,” Wilbur drawls before stealing a kiss from John. “You're more beautiful than some space rocks anyway.”

Laughing, John pushes at his shoulder gently. “Sap,” he teases even as his cheeks flush pink.

The flame of the candle on the bedside table flickers, casting shadows around the room. The radio starts a new song, one that makes Wilbur smirk.

“It's your favorite,” he teases back, running his fingers through John's hair as he starts to sing along.

John's blush deepens as he listens to his boyfriend's crooning. Grinning, he hides his face in Wilbur's shoulder, content to just listen.

“-and now for the next song in our nonstop lunch hour line-up!” The radio DJ announces, “We have Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer-”

John turns off the stereo in his car, plunging the small space into silence. His hand tightens on the wheel as he drives.

Rain falls steadily from a gray sky. The windshield wipers swipe rhythmically, clearing away the water.

It reminds him of Wilbur.

Everything fucking reminds him of Wilbur.

The tags hanging from his necklace feel heavier than normal, resting right over his heart.

He finally reaches his destination: PEIP HQ. He climbs out of his car, ducking his head to try to keep the rain out of his face.

By the time he makes it through the door, his hair is soaked, water dripping off the ends.

He makes it to his office, wringing the water out of his locks, when he hears a chuckle. He closes his eyes, hoping he just imagined it.

He's never so lucky though.

“Shitty day for a storm, huh?” Wiley asks, eyes glinting. He takes a bite of the green apple in his hand. “Gonna miss the meteor shower.”

John elects to ignore him, moving to sit at his desk.

Undeterred, Wiley continues, “Still think you're more beautiful than some stupid space rocks.”

Swallowing heavily, John forces himself to look at his visitor. “Why are you here?”

“Why not?” Wiley shrugs as he takes another bite of apple.

Seething, John closes his eyes and counts backwards from ten. “Leave. I don't want to see you.”

“Oh, I think we both know that's a lie, Johnny,” Wiley replies with a smirk, “I think you live for my little visits, no matter what you tell yourself.”

John glares at him, ignoring his traitorous heart that threatens to beat out of his chest. “You're not him. You're a different man, if you're even still a man at all. You're not the man I loved.”

“Oh, sticks and stones, Johnny,” Wilbur snickers, placing a hand on his chest. “Is that what you tell yourself so you don't feel guilty for hoping I'll show up?”

Heat flashes through John's cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“That's what I thought.”

Suddenly, Wiley appears on John's desk, apple abandoned on the floor a few feet away. “And you know how I know?” He taunts as he reaches forward. His fingers wrap around the tags that hang from John's neck. “Because you still wear this.”

John stares up at him, trying to formulate a response while his heart runs at a million miles a minute.

Finally, he stands, hands slamming down on the desk on either side of Wiley. “Leave,” he demands again, glowering down at him.

“If that's what you want, Johnny.” Wiley's lips curl in a wicked smirk before he leans forward and steals a kiss from John. “I don't think it is though.”

John blinks and Wiley's gone, the only sign of his visit being the half-eaten apple on the floor of his office.

[five-oh-thirst]

I Dare You

Prompt Day 8: Apple cider donuts or muffins

Pairing: Jesse/Kix

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, dom/sub

Note: Don't ask, because I don't know either. Somewhere along the lines, it just devolved... Not a cozy thought in sight.

Read on AO3

"Jesse!" a loud, thundering voice yelled from across the room.

Jesse flinched and turned around, eyes widening at the sight of his very angry boyfriend stomping towards him. The group of rowdy clones that had gathered to watch Jesse and Hardcase's competition fell silent.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kix asked.

Jesse wanted to answer, but his mouth was full. He waved his hands in an apologetic gesture and mumbled a few incoherent words, but that only made Kix angrier.

"Spit it out," Kix ordered. "Now."

Jesse did as he was told.

Kix crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

"Hardcase dared me to stick as many donut holes in my mouth as I could..." Jesse said, casting his eyes to the side and rocking on his feet.

"And do you always do everything Hardcase dares you to do?" Kix asked. "If he dared you to jump off a building, would you?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "No, of course, not."

"Then why would you cram...," Kix counted what Jesse had spat out. "Ten donut holes in your mouth!?"

Jesse shrugged.

Kix shook his head. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid."

"Kix, babe–"

"Don't, babe, me," Kix said, pointing an accusitory finger at Jesse. "I could think a million different uses for that mouth, and not one of them includes suffocating yourself on donut holes!"

The group of clones snorted and snickered.

"It was just a bit of fun," Jesse argued.

"If this is what you call fun," Kix said. "Why don't you choke yourself on my cock instead! Maker knows it's been days since you've touched me."

The group of clones gasped at the accusation and snapped their attention to Jesse to see what his response would be. It was like watching a soap opera unfold right before their eyes, and they were all invested.

Jesse frowned and knitted his brows together. He stepped towards Kix, one heavy footstep after the other, kama swaying at his hips, until he was toe to toe with him, barely a breath away. Kix stood his ground and looked defiantly into Jesse's eyes.

"You want me to play with you?" Jesse asked, his voice deep and dangerous. He grabbed Kix's chin and ran his thumb across his bottom lip, speaking just above a whisper. "My quarters, five minutes, clothes off, ass up, binders on, and I don't want to hear one sound until I say you can speak again."

Kix's mouth went dry as Jesse's words shot straight to his cock. To an outsider, it might look like Kix was the one in charge of their relationship, but in reality, Jesse held Kix's leash, and he held it tight. However, once in a while, Jesse let him yank on it for fun.

It wasn't all an act, though. Kix was worried about Jesse choking on that many donut holes, but they had planned this little scene days in advance, so the rest of it was staged. And now, Kix was going to reap the benefits.

Cozytober Masterlist

[13a07s]

My Everything #2

(Shoyo Hinata)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to seranlynx]

Requested by: @l1l14i

Word Count: 3,275

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cyber bullying (?)

Slight fighting

Weed (Fun fact, as of 2023 weed is still illegal in Japan but we're going to ignore that)

Alcohol

———————————————————————

I looked at the comments. I know Akaashi told me not to, but I did anyway, and it was the dumbest thing I could have done. Since looking, my eyes have been constantly scrolling over the thousands of comments.

     They look so cute!

     She's so lucky! I would kill to have @Hinata._.Shoyo on me like that!

     Do you think this is the mystery girlfriend?

     No wonder #21 never shuts up about her. I wouldn't either!

      Omg, there's a new hottest OTP in the volleyball world. @Bokuto.Koutaro and @Akaashi_Keiji better watch out

     Despite all the good comments praising the glimpse of our relationship, all the compliments thirsting over Shoyo and me, even the upright vail sexual things people wish to do to one or both of us, all I can focus on is the bad comments.

     Ew, that's the mystery girlfriend? I excepted... better

     She's chubby, for an athlete's girlfriend

     No wonder @Hinata._.Shoyo is so dedicated to his sport. If I had to go home to that I'd drown myself in volleyball too

     Gold digger if I've ever seen one

     @MSBY_Black_Jackal maybe get #21's eyes checked??? That is nowhere near the hottest woman alive. Even from the glanced photo, I can see a million needed improvements.

     What the hell is up with her hair???

     My hand jumps up to my head, tugging on my towel hat so it comes unraveling. Right after, my fingers run through my hair, working out some of the wet knots I haven't paid attention to since getting out of the shower. Shoyo likes my hair... I think. He likes it, right?

I haven't talked to Shoyo about the post yet. We were alone long enough for him to drop his bags before he and a few other Jackals went down to the hotel gym for their workout sessions. With me being alone in the room it's given me plenty of time to check the comments, unpack, check the comments, shave, check the comments, shower, and check the comments.

Since he was in such a rush to meet up with the team, he left his phone behind. That has given me time to ponder going on his phone and scrolling through what he's been tagged in that I haven't seen yet. I know the password, it's my birthday, and it's not like Shoyo would care. It still feels wrong doing it without asking, even if I know he doesn't mind.

     The girls' - and Akaashi's - group chat has been dinging every ten minutes or so. They've all been telling me to not look or reply to any of the comments, asking what room we're in so someone can sit with me until the boys get back, telling me I'm beautiful, that Shoyo loves me more than anything in this world.

     I've been ignoring their texts - and the occasional call - as much as I can, barely sparing them a glance. I know Shoyo loves me, that he thinks I'm beautiful. I also know he's a man and that he finds other girls beautiful too.

     I've looked at the profiles of some of the commenters, mostly the ones commenting on my weight or openly slutting themselves out to my boyfriend. A lot of them have been supermodel pretty. Supermodel skinny too. I keep trying to remind myself that those photos aren't natural. That they are photoshopped or filtered. That my photo with Shoyo hasn't been touched up. It was snapped and posted.

The hotel door beeps the click of the door opening following the approved key swipe. "Ya, ya, I'll ask the Mrs. I'll let you know. Ya, see you soon," Shoyo rambles to one of his teammates, slowly sliding his way into the room. "Hey baby," he greets, tone instantly softening and his face relaxing at the sight of me.

     "Hi," I snip back, casting my eyes to my phone again, rolling over a comment made of a line of throw-up emojis and the words 'His humbleness isn't the only thing he took from the Karasuno dirt fields'. Maybe I'm reading into it but I'm pretty sure they're trying to call me hick without actually saying it.

Shoyo shifts his body weight, eyes glancing around the room before they're set on me again. "So, Atsumu and some of the other guys and gals are going down to the bar around seven. He invited us to join... you want to go?"

"No."

Concern flickers across his face, quickly drowned out by a smile. "Alright," Shoyo answers, shrugging his shoulders before making his way toward me. "A night in with you and a movie sounds good too," he tries, kicking his shoes off before crawling onto the bed.

I spare him a glance before fixating on the post again. 'How the hell did THAT bag @Hinata._.Shoyo???' rolls across the screen, adding another drop of emotion to the puddle collecting in my chest.

"You're my everything," Shoyo coos, nuzzling his nose against my neck, the tips of his hair tickling my skin. "You know that, right?" He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to my jaw.

"Ya."

"Do you?" He asks again, arching up so he can lock his sight with my eyes, his nose brushing against mine. "You've been... I don't know. Not you since we've gotten here. Bokuto said Akaashi is worried about you," he slowly pushes out, his fingertips on my thigh, toying with the end of the towel I'm still wrapped in.

"I'm fine, Shoyo," I mutter, moving my legs away from him. When his hand grips me tighter instead of falling off, I push it off myself.

Sadness flickers in his soft eyes for a moment, quickly replaced with concern. "Is this about the picture of us?" Shoyo asks, using his grip on my leg to pull me back to him. He snatches my phone from me, glancing at it for a moment before throwing it on the bed.

     "You know about it?" I ask, a bit dumbfounded. There's no way he knows about it. There's no way he knows about it and hasn't told me about it let alone talked to me about it. I haven't talked to him about it because I haven't had the chance to yet. Not because I just haven't.

     "Of course I do. I've known about it since, I don't know, less than five minutes after it was posted. I was tagged in it and I've gotten a new mention in the comments every ten seconds."

     I sit frozen, staring at my confused boyfriend. He's an idiot, right? Like, legally an idiot. He has to be. "What the fuck, Shoyo?" I mutter, my words coming out slow but heavily.

     "I didn't want you to worry about it. I figured - "

     "You figured what? If you didn't say anything about it I wouldn't find out about it?"

     Sho stays quiet for a few moments, a loose smile on his lips as his eyes wander across my face. "I figured sooner or later the public was going to get a picture of us. You look sexy as hell in the one they got, so why freak out about it?"

     "Have you not read the comments?"

     "I have," he hums, head tumbling downward so his lips can crash against my bare shoulders. "'Damn number twenty-one is lucky'. 'If that's the type of girlfriend volleyball players have, sign me up'. 'No wonder Hinata never shuts up about her'. 'Shit man, if my girlfriend looked like that I'd praise her with every breath I had to offer'. 'If I had a girl like that, I'd make her my everything too'," he quotes, little kisses being littered across any bare inch of skin he can get to.

     "Those aren't the comments I'm talking about," I whisper, quickly losing hold of my anger, on my sadness.

     "Baby," he whispers in my ear, nuzzling the side of my face as his hands rub my thighs, his tight grip closing on my flesh every few seconds. "You are my everything, do you know what that means? It means to me you're perfect. I love your hair, I love how it catches the sun, I love how it feels, how it smells, how it looks."

     "I love your curves, I love the dips and twists and every inch of your body. You could be a hundred pounds heavier or a hundred pounds lighter and I'd still love the shape of you."

     Shoyo's kisses fall toward my neck. He nudges at my chin until I tip my head backward, giving him more space to run his lips over. "I love every birthmark, every scar, every inch of your skin. I love your smile, your eyes, your soul, your laugh. Every second possible I spend thinking of you. Thinking of this gorgeous body, of your loving personality."

     His praises are dripping with his admiration of me, drips that fall into the puddle in my chest, slowly but surely eating away at all the negativity that's been building up. "If you ever left me, if you ever decided we were done, that would be it for me. I would never be with another person again. I'd simply play volleyball until I couldn't anymore and then spend the rest of my days wallowing in Rio, waiting for you to want me again."

     "You're my everything, baby. You've been my everything since the first day I saw you since my eyes fell on the pissy girl with braids in her hair that tried fighting the frappuccino machine because it wouldn't work. You are my everything. You know that. I make sure you know that, and if you don't, I need you to tell me you don't. Tell me you don't feel like my everything if that's what's happening. Tell me so I can remind you, so I can fix it, do you understand?"

     "Ya, I understand," I murmur, my mind foggy from the mix of Shoyo's praises and the feeling of his lips leaving my skin on fire.

     "Good," he whispers against my jaw, a line of kisses leading up to the delicate kiss laid on my lips. "You are my everything, baby. Without you, I'm not even sure I can breathe. I am lucky to have you in my life, and I am thankful for every day I wake up next to you."

     My eyes sting with the threat of tears, a threat that's fulfilled quickly. "Oh, baby," Shoyo coos, kisses instant back in action to brush away the water leaking from my eyes. "Don't cry. I hate seeing you cry."

     Giggles slowly spill out, mixing with my tears as I replay the last line of his love speech. "Sho? What the hell are you going to put in your vows that could top that?"

     "I'll just reuse it," he teases, his laughter easily mixing with mine. "Now, drinks with the gals and the guys?"

     "Drinks with the gals and the guys," I agree, stealing another kiss from him.

                      ————————————

Shoyo's arm is around my shoulders, keeping me pressed close to him as he coats my hair in kisses. With every ding of a passing floor, my heart seems to beat faster. I'm always nervous going out in public with my boyfriend, but with the recent shining light of the public on me, I'm more nervous than usual. Pair that with the fact I'm sure every hotel in Shizuoka is swimming with fans and you have a disaster waiting to happen.

     I don't like the attention or the million cameras or the public in general, which is why Sho usually goes to these things alone and I show up the day of the game. At least for away games. Home games are easier to deal with. But, he begged me to come with him this time so I gave in. That was a dumb decision.

"You're fine, baby. Paparazzi and such aren't allowed on private property. Fans are all we'll have to deal with and most of the time they're too star-struck to notice much. You'll slip into the bar as easy as usual." Blind optimism at its finest, but I can't help but hope that he's right.

     When the final ding comes, Shoyo tugs my hood up for me, helping to hide some of myself. His arm falls too, his fingers instantly finding mine and sliding themselves in place. My heart races with the sound of the elevator doors opening, my stomach turning in tone with the two noises.

     Instantly, a million clicks and cellphone flashes go off, the crowd of fans yelling his last name, asking a million questions. Some are simple questions asking for photos or about the game tomorrow, others are centered toward the recent photo of us. Shoyo simply smiles, stepping forward to block me from the crowd as he answers some of the simpler questions.

     Slowly, he leads me out of the elevator, trying his best to inch around the crowd toward the bar. Within seconds, Bokuto appears situating himself next to Shoyo and in front of me too. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't forget Hinata isn't the only spiker on the team," the bigger man booms, glancing behind himself to send me a smile.

     The two beefy men in front of me continue the slow and stretched-out walk to the bar, the three of us shuffling like penguins to get to the entrance. Sadly, the bar has an open construct; no door, just an open wall with a velvet 'fence' to close it off for the Jackals to use tonight.

     "Hey," Akaashi greets, nodding at the worker to unclip the makeshift gate.

     "Hey," I greet back, stepping through before glancing at Shoyo. Bokuto and him are still taking pictures and answering questions, only two or three steps away from me. "I don't like coming to these things."

     Akaashi shrugs, watching our goofballs with me. "It's a lot at first but over time you get used to it. Just don't do anything stupid, like have dry sex in a car," he teases, a soft grin on his face as he spares me a glance. "And you'll be fine."

     "Ya, that was pretty dumb of us."

     That gets a laugh out of him, and a bigger smile. "If it makes you feel any better, Kotaro's and my first 'scandal' happened because someone got a photo of me helping him button his shirt as we left a restaurant bathroom. He spilled red wine on his shirt so I helped him clean it but of course, the media turned it into us having a quickie." That does help, a lot more than I thought it would.

     "Shit happens. Scandals happen or get fabricated. There's no point hiding in the dark forever because that just leaves more for the imagination. The hard part is done. The world has proof of you. Hot ass proof." That makes me giggle, a few soft chuckles leaving Akaashi as well. "Hey, even the coach's wife said she'd leave him for you."

     "She did not," I manage to get out, more laughter mixing with my words.

     "She did too, which you would know if you answered any of our texts."

     "I was busy wallowing in sadness and self-pity."

     Akaashi shrugs again, his grin falling from his face, his usual resting bitch face back on. "That happens too. Half the world will love you and the other half will hate you regardless of what you say or what photos they get of you. Just got to roll with it."

     "Did you smoke a blunt before coming down here?" All the partners of the players have different ways of dealing with the stress of publicity they and their player have. Some smoke, some use weed like Akaashi, and some just enjoy their partner's hefty wallets and use retail as a means to cope. I'm not sure what I'm going to use to cope yet, but at the moment a few hits of what Akaashi is on sounds like a nice and quick way to chill out.

     "I had an edible. I don't have anymore so you're going to have to be sober or drink."

     "Drinking it is then," I mutter, letting my eyes scan over the growing group of Jackals paying attention to their fans right outside the bar.

     Akaashi and I stand inside the entrance, still blocked from the fans' view by the team members. If this is how people act at the hotel, the gym is going to be insane tomorrow.

"Alright, alright, I promised my everything a drink so I got to go guys. I hope to see you all tomorrow," Shoyo's voice rises above the chaos, the ginger starting to back up from the crowd. Being cut off only makes the crowd louder, the rest of the members quickly follow to avoid the uproar.

As soon as he's through the cloth fence, Shoyo's arms are around me, burying me into himself as he drags me further into the bar. My head pops out from his arms when I'm no longer forced into movement. "There's my everything," he coos, pecking my lips as he loosens his hold.

We - and the rest of the team - are tucked away in the furthest and darkest corner of the bar, safe away from the crowd still at the entrance. Greetings are thrown around, a few "you two looked sexy in your picture" mixed in. Everyone answered with a "damn right" by Sho.

Shoyo's hands are on me at all times, even as we sit with everyone else. Hand on my thigh, in my hair, toying with my fingers, anyway he can touch me he does. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his hand jumping up to push my hood off.

     "Thank you," I answer, taking his hand in mine before resting it in my lap. He's antsy, like always, but more so than usual since he's still worked up from my meltdown. Having his hands wandering over my body isn't going to help much with our scandal.

His movements stall for a moment, his brain ticking at what to do before his soft touches are replaced with butterfly kisses. My cheeks heat up more with every kiss he litters my skin with. "Honey, we're with people," I murmur, trying to shrug him off.

"So?" He whines, shaking his hand out of mine so he can wrap his arms around my waist, pulling both me and the chair closer to him. "You're my everything. With so many people around, so many people having proof you exist, I want to remind everyone that you are my everything. Always have been, always will be."

     "Gross," one of the older members tease, fake gagging until his wife smacks him upside the head, paired with a whispered lecture and an ear pull.

     Shoyo giggles, nuzzling my head until I turn it enough for him to kiss me. Slowly I let myself give into the gentle kiss, letting my adoring boyfriend melt away all the stress of the day. "My beautiful, perfect everything," he sighs, pecking my lips once more before pulling away from me. "Anyway, we should get a round of shots to drink to our future victory over EJP."

     The team cheers at the offer, one of the members flagging down a server to take the order. A smile plays on Shoyo's face, his hand enveloping mine again to raise it, kisses being peppered across my knuckles. It's hard to believe just an hour ago I was convinced I was nothing to him. Even in moments where his focus is on the team, on volleyball, I'm still at the forefront of his mind. I'm still his everything.

———————————————————————

[jishyucks]

only fools. ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader

‣ genre: FLUFF, sorta angsty? idk, co-leads to lovers? is tht even a thing?

‣ wc: 2.2k

‣ summary: Renjun's made one promise to himself ever since the play's production started: I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast member. But after months of working alongside you, he finds that this promise was something he couldn't keep.

‣ warnings?: sorta sorta cheesyyy?, mentioned that reader's smaller than Renjun, Shrek (loml?jkjk) mention

‣ an: I finally wrote something after having writer's block for ten million years I s2g,,, tht being said I'm not sure if this is the best I can do but I do believe it's really cute ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) so I hope you enjoy it!

‣ tags: @mosviqu @sleeping-sirens

Dress rehearsals start in a mere thirteen minutes yet Renjun is sitting at the top corner of the football field’s bleachers in hopes that none of his castmates could find him.

He’s disappointed in himself because he’s being unprofessional. He knows damn well that if he did the same thing in the real world, it wouldn’t be accepted. Sure, it’s not acceptable now… the production is set for next week, yet he’s here wondering if he should even show up for rehearsals because of his own damn feelings.

Fuck feelings, he thinks, They’re stupid anyway. 

Renjun kicks the edge of the seat in front of him and watches as the football team finishes up with their warm-up. He’s not sure how long they’ve been running in circles, but judging from how the coach yells for them to finish strong, he could guess it’s been close to fifteen minutes. 

Fuck feelings, Renjun repeats to himself. 

He feels like beating himself up over the very fact that he broke a promise that he made to himself at the beginning of the show’s production. 

I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast-member.

It was a simple promise that he thought would be easy to fulfill. Renjun was never one to develop feelings easily, which was exactly why he easily forgot the fact that feelings are something you couldn’t plan. Ever.

The reason it even came to existence was because his other castmate and best friend, Jaemin, had pointed out that this production was ‘romantic-full’—whatever that meant in his books—and that he was in some dangerous position of developing feelings for his co-lead. 

He clearly remembers waving off his ridiculous reminders, simply because Renjun’s already been in countless productions and not one of them did he develop feelings for another cast member that could be deemed greater than that of friends. The idea was stupid.

But he made the promise anyway.

Just in case, he told himself. 

Then this brings Renjun to now. With a broken promise dangling right in front of his face and feelings sitting rather irritatingly at the centre of his heart like a bullseye. 

Renjun blames you for it all. For the way his heart beats around your presence, for the way the butterflies erupt at even the slightest touch of your hand, and the way he loses all composure the millisecond you smile his way. 

Renjun doesn’t even know how it even got to this point.

But then again, it’s absurdly clear. The roles you both play, the late nights rehearsing just to get cues right, the impromptu hangouts after rehearsals… his relationship with you has grown over the past few months and he can’t really blame his heart for giving way for you. 

In fact, it would have been much more worrying if he didn’t develop feelings for you. Especially since it was you. He would be a total fool not to fall for someone like you. 

Nonetheless, Renjun’s frustrated over breaking the one and only promise he made for himself because now, after accepting these newfound feelings, he’s practically deathly afraid to face you. If he sees you now, he knows he’s going to make a fool of himself. 

“Okay, bring it in!” The coach’s voice was rather loud despite him being twenty steps below Renjun.  

He sighs and grabs a glimpse of the time. Eight more minutes until rehearsals and it was a good walk across campus just to get to the theatre. 

There’s a feeling in his leg that was itching for him to stand up and go, but he ignores it, instead laying down against the warm metal seat before throwing an arm over his eyes to block them from the sun. 

Renjun bangs his heels against the seat causing the whole bench to shake. He has to shift in his position so he doesn’t fall off. Then he groans and whispers a ‘what am I going to do?’ under his breath. 

Because that was the real question. What is he going to do? He’s unsure whether to wait it out and let the feelings disappear on their own or take his chances with you—if you even reciprocate these feelings. He can’t just avoid you until the entire production is over because he is one of the show’s main leads. Renjun worked hard for this role and he can’t just let the understudy do it all for him because of his feelings for you were getting in the way.

Renjun knows for a fact that actors and actresses have gone through the same thing he’s going through… but how the hell did they manage to get through it? 

He wonders if there was a book or YouTube video of some sort that provided him helpful steps on how to solve the situation in under 10 minutes—but one can only dream. 

Renjun lets white noise overrun his head as he lays in a still position for who knows how long, feeling the breeze move past him gently. It was a cool breeze, but it balances out the sun that was beating down directly onto his skin. 

Peripherally, Renjun can hear the sound of steps against the bleachers, but he quickly dismisses it, immediately assuming it was another student on their way up to isolate themselves like he was. 

But, boy, was he wrong. 

“There you are.”

Renjun’s heart thumps against his rib cage at the sound of your voice and he quickly sits up. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” His vocal pitch is three levels higher than usual, almost giving away the nerves that now have taken over his system. 

How should he even act around you? This shouldn’t even be hard. He’s been around you almost every day for the past few months, and he’s an actor for god’s sake. He can simply fake it ‘til he makes it. 

“And you don’t expect me to ask you the same thing,” you give him a look and wheeze, “You were supposed to be there like half an hour ago, y’know. You should be glad I volunteered to find you because they were going to send Doyoung and you know how scary he gets when he’s mad.” 

When you realize that Renjun wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, you sit next to him with almost no room left between your shoulder and his. You wait for a short moment for Renjun to reply, but you’re only returned with silence and the groaning of sweaty men down at the field, “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Renjun waves off your concern and stands up, “Let’s get to rehearsal.” He shuffles past you and makes his way down the stairs. Renjun’s quick to reach the bottom, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re close behind. 

“You’re lying,” you say when you finally catch up. It was blunt, but it was because you don’t have a single fibre of doubt in your body. 

Renjun shakes his head, “I’m not lying.” When he notices that you’re catching up, he speeds up just a tad bit to keep you from gaining any sort of eye contact. He’s not even sure why he’s doing this when he knows that he eventually has to make eye contact with you during rehearsal. 

“Yes, you are,” you retort, “Huang Renjun of all people wouldn’t willingly show up to practice late. There’s something wrong and you already know I’m going to try and get it out of you.”

Renjun chooses not to say anything, afraid that he’s accidentally going to give you hints of his dilemma. He focuses on the way his feet taked steps as you both find your way to the theatre. 

“So, what is it?” You start, “Is it homework? Roommate problems? Nerves?… No, it can’t be nerves…” You’re practically skipping to keep his pace. He can hear you rambling beneath your breath and he lets you be, refusing to give in too easily.

When you’re returned with silence for the nth time, you switch gears and let out a loud, rather deep, sigh. “Renjun, I’m being serious right now. I know something’s wrong. And it’s not because you’re showing up late to practice on purpose, but it’s because you can’t even look me in the eye.” 

“We’re going to be late,” he mumbles. Renjun’s walking so fast that he’s almost jogging. 

“Oh, c’mon, as if we’re not already late,” you roll your eyes and reach for Renjun’s wrist, forcing the both of you to stop in your tracks, “We’re not going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you,” Renjun repeats, “There’s nothing wrong. Now, let’s go.”

Renjun attempts to wiggle out of your grasp but you simply just tug on his arm to reinforce it, “And I told you that we’re not going until you answer my question. What’s wrong?” You sigh, “Renjun if you don’t tell me now, my head’s going to be preoccupied during rehearsal. Do this for you and for me.” 

Renjun’s stuck. He’s not sure whether to tell you now, lie now and tell you later, or simply just not tell you (hard stop). All these options have one possible outcome in common and it was how he would possibly regret it all. 

“If you’re trying to decide whether you should tell me or not, I vote for the first option,” you say. Renjun hates how you can read him like a book—well, except for his feelings for you. If you could, then this entire situation would have been easier to handle. 

Renjun searches the empty hallway as if there would be an answer written bright and clear on the walls. He’s stuck and he needs to act quick. He doesn’t have all the time in the world anymore. 

Then, his eyes land on your hand still holding onto his wrist. 

Swiftly, Renjun slides his wrist down towards him. But instead of taking his arm back, he makes the impulsive action of intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand as if it were made of glass. 

“What’s wrong is that I can only do this,” Renjun gulps nervously. He hasn’t made the effort to look at your reaction just yet, eyes trained on his hand holding yours. He’s slightly relieved that you haven’t pulled your hand back. But then again it could just be you in shock. 

He gains the confidence to hold your smaller hand tighter before tugging you towards him. The two of you are practically chest to chest, so close that if Renjun simply leaned down, he could plant a kiss on your forehead. “This.” 

Renjun’s heart is pounding right against his chest and he knows you can hear it. But he continues and brings his forehead down to graze your own, “And… this.”

Renjun pulls away and it’s like all of his confidence is sucked out of him, “…as stupid characters in that stupid play while I’m here wishing that it could be more!” A brief silence lingers between the two of you before he turns to leave, but you’re quick to yank him back by the elbow. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrow. Although it may come off as you being completely lost, you truly weren’t. You just wanted clarification and words that will confirm what you think Renjun is meaning to say. 

A huff leaves Renjun’s lips and he searches the walls once again. He can’t repeat the same things he’s already done, so now he needs to resort to words. 

“Y/N, we’re co-leads in a romance story!” There’s a hint of frustration in Renjun’s voice and at that point you can tell that this has truly been bothering him, “We practiced our lines together, hung out after, hell, I’ve learned the weirdest facts about you—that you open chip bags from the bottom because that’s where all the flavour is, how you take pictures of green onions in soup that look like hearts, that you’ve watched the second Shrek movie a bajillion times just to watch the fight scene at the end… Y/N, everyday for the past few months I was practically handed the opportunity to fall for you… and I would be a fool to not fall for you.”

Renjun lets his head fall forward and his bangs flop over his eyes, “I was planning on waiting until after the final show to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the hard work that everyone’s put into the production just cause of my feelings… but I guess my feelings won.”

He waits for you to reply, bracing himself for the worst ever possible reaction from you. Renjun’s already imagining a rejection—a gentle one, of course—but when he sees your hand reach out for his own, he feels a pang of hope sitting deep in his chest.

Renjun feels you hold his hand tight, squeezing it before using it to draw him towards you. He lets himself stumble forward before planting his feet right in front of yours. Your toes are almost touching, so you shuffle forward so that they are. With this gesture, Renjun finally allows himself to make eye contact with you. 

There’s a sense of relief when he catches a proper sight of your face, a soft smile sitting upon your lips. And when you finally see that Renjun’s looking back at you, your smile grows ten times larger. 

“Well, then I guess I’d also be a fool if I hadn’t fallen for you, either.”

[doloresdisparue]

In some of your recent posts, you mentioned a Lolita musical? I didn't know there was a musical! Is there a place to listen to it/watch it??

- Someone who finds the book interesting, and deeply loves music

HELLO YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE. If the Lolita musical has a million fans, then I am one of them. If the Lolita musical has ten fans, then I am one of them. If the Lolita musical has only one fan then that is me. If the Lolita musical has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against the Lolita musical, then I am against the world etc etc. Here's my tag in case my elaboration makes you curious

It's called "Lolita, My Love" written by Alan Jay Lerner with music by John Barry. It premiered in 1971 and promptly flopped so hard that they canned it during tryouts before it even had a Broadway premiere though it has been critically praised since.

(Not since Carrie: forty years of Broadway musical flops by Ken Mandelbaum)

Lerner rewrote the script six times with significant changes in the different versions and you can look at most of them only through the LIbrary of Congress where his papers are preserved. In essence there are three versions. Philadelphia (very little information available), Boston (this version has a soundboard recording of the audio for the entire show on youtube from a preview show) and post-closing (this is where he cracked the code). The post-closing version was obviously never staged by Lerner BUT it was the main basis for the 2019 revival showing put on by the York Theatre and directed by Emily Maltby (one of the few women to direct an adaptation and while I don't think that is at all necessary for a good one she did a phenomenal job). It was a special event that only ran for a week and had no costume, no stage design and everyone with scripts in hand but it's the closest to a real production that has ever been done. Unlike the original 71 production it also did not cast any children and did not require them (or anyone) to be semi-nude. Dolores was played by an actress in her early 20s (Caitlin Cohn) who proved you could put on the show without endangering kids perfectly well.

The significant change between the Boston script and the Revival version (which takes small things from all scripts but is largely based on his final draft) is the (re-)addition of Dr. Ray as a framing device. To adapt the novel format to the stage Humbert is continuously telling his story to Dr. Ray who is interviewing him for his case. She (they cast a female black actress for the role in the revival) questions, interjects and overall holds the audiences hand a little when it comes to working out just how unreliable Humbert is. I like the Boston version where he talks directly to the audience but I fear we as a society have proven that we need a Lolita adaptation that holds peoples hands at least a little. Another delightful aspect is that, just like in the book, Humbert is actively using his medium against the reader/audience. Dr. Ray is always on stage as Humbert essentially directs the rest of the show to present his version of the story to her. At certain points light and music cues tell the audience that he is clearly making things up, Dolly starts moving like a marionette and talking as if she is hypnotised. Meanwhile he switches seamlessly between the interview and participating in the action, directing the ensemble, setting the scene so to speak

but sometimes the action freezes or the lights abruptly come on when she interrupts him, immediately jarring the audience to attention in case they got a little too carried away in his catchy songs.

It's also a production that has a profound love for Dolly and, to my knowledge, the only adaptation that made the conscious choice to let her survive. Erik Haagensen, who put together the script, talked about how her death was never in any of Lerner's drafts and he wouldnt have included it if it was because it was so important to him to spotlight that she was a survivor and she still had a life after her abuse and honor the pehmomenal strength it would have taken her to get to that place at all because she is NOT broken and her life ISN'T over and that was important to him. I do understand and respect Nabokov's choice to go full tragedy but it's another reason the musical is close to my heart. I also cannot talk about this show without noting its distinction of featuring perhaps the worst line in musical history ever sung by a human being (saying this affectionately since it does its job of making you scream):

I could talk forever about other choices and the individual songs but this has gotten long enough I think. But feel free to hit me up (and this goes for anyone else too) if you want to talk more about it!

TL;DR: There is currently no way to watch "Lolita, My Love" as there is only an audio recording of a preview for the 1971 show, not a video and the archive recording of the revival (which exists!) is not publicly available (presumably for legal reasons). At least 2 songs are on Spotify re-recorded by commercial artists (Going, going, gone and In The Broken Promise Land of 15) as well as a purely instrumental version of the title theme (Lolita by John Barry) which i adore. The scripts are in the Library of Congress and potentially buried in other places but I have not found them anywhere online, though you can look at all the lyrics and small summaries of the action of each song in "The complete lyrics of Alan Jay Lerner" by Dominic McHugh and Amy Asch, which is widely available.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: "Happy Brithday, John"

John sat alone on his bed, his small fingers tracing the rough seam of his standard-issue blanket. Today he turned seven, not that anyone would know. Around him, the other kids were busy; laughter and clattering echoed from the commons room where a makeshift game of tag had turned into a chaotic joy.

"Move it, Ellie!" roared Samuel, one of the older boys, as he dodged a swinging arm, nearly bumping into John's bunk.

Ellie, laughing breathlessly, didn't notice John either as she chased after Samuel, her light brown hair a wild stream behind her. "Wait till I catch you, Sam! You'll eat those words!"

John's gaze followed them, yearning for an invitation that never came. He considered standing up, joining in, saying something, but the words clung to the back of his throat like a stubborn cough. They didn’t mean to exclude him; they just forgot. Again.

The door swung open, and Petty Officer Mendez entered, his presence demanding silence. "Lights out in ten," he announced sternly, his eyes briefly scanning the room, glossing over John without a pause. "Wrap it up."

"Yes, sir!" the chorus of voices rang out. The game ended abruptly, the children scattering to their respective bunks. No one noticed John silently mouthing the response.

As the lights dimmed, the whisper of sheets and the soft sighs of settling children filled the room. John lay back, staring up at the dark ceiling. The silence of the room felt oppressive, like a thick blanket smothering his thoughts. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs—not from physical exertion, but from a deep, aching sadness.

Beside him, another bunk creaked. “Hey, did you hear about the training sim tomorrow?” whispered Dexter, a boy with keen eyes and a known knack for hacking into the meal dispensers.

“Yeah, heard it’s gonna be a tough one. Jungle terrain,” replied his bunkmate, Thomas, excitement lacing his voice.John’s eyes stung, a tear betraying him, trailing silently down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by his own feelings.

The night dragged on, each minute stretching longer than the last. Eventually, John’s thoughts wandered to his parents, a memory of his last birthday with them flickering in his mind like an old film. His mother had made cake—a simple, frosted thing that tasted like the best thing in the world. His father had ruffled his hair, his laugh booming and warm. The warmth felt a million light-years away now.

Morning came too soon. The barracks buzzed with renewed energy as the kids prepped for the day. John joined the line, his expression blank, his usual quiet self. Mendez passed him, handing out the day's orders. “Focus up, John. Big day ahead.”

“Yes, sir,” John replied mechanically, his voice just another note in the chaotic symphony of the morning rush.The day’s challenges came and went. John performed well—always did—but today, each success felt hollow. As the sun set, casting long shadows over the training grounds, Mendez gathered the group.

“Good work today, team.” His gaze swept over the young faces, pride in his stern eyes. “Keep it up.”

The others cheered, basking in the praise, but John merely nodded, his heart silent amidst the jubilation.

That night, as John lay in his bed, the barracks around him filled with the deep, even breaths of sleep, he whispered to the darkness, “Happy birthday, John.”

No one heard. The bitter sting of neglect settled deep in his bones, a constant companion in the years to come, as birthdays came and went with the same silent, unacknowledged regularity.

[cuephrase]

ten people I'd like to know better

tagged by @goldenraeofsun, tyyyy rae!!

last song: affection by BETWEEN FRIENDS (i'm cleaning out my music library by listening to the whole thing rn tho and omg the genre shifts)

fav color: nobody could ever guess this in a million, trillion years, but pink!!

last book: The Lincoln Lawyer by Michael Connelly (i really enjoyed the netflix show, so i borrowed the series from my library hehe. i feel like an old man.)

last movie: ...The Idea of You. bsf and i decided to watch a cringey romance movie, she is a big 1D... directioner? is that the name? anyways she was giving me all the lore, which was fantastic. it was between this and Purple Hearts and we were dying bc we didn't realize nicholas galitzine was in both of them lmao. this was a very mediocre movie imo- not cringey or romantic enough to warrant a rewatch but not so awful i wished i hadn't watched it. yawn.)

last show: ARCANE!!!!! i just started s2. i am obsessed with the animation, cannot wait to rewatch this show over and over. (and the story and the characters and the music is all spectacular)

sweet/spicy/savory: yes

relationship status: married!! for five years this month hehe

last thing i googled: the lincoln lawyer book bc i couldn't remember the author's name

current obsession: mmmmmmmmmm robins? comics? tim? dick? jason? damian? bruce? cass? kon? HOW DO I PICK JUST ONE?!?! actually no. my current obession is arizona sun brewed style iced tea with lemonade flavor. it has cast a spell on me.

looking forward to: okay so- i'm in a rp server with my friends and it's like basically collaborative fic writing and we've been building up to this plot point in our reverse robins storyline for literal months and it is actually about to happen and i'm freaking out you don't understand and i could not begin to explain but trust me when i tell you AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

no pressure tagging: @canonicallyshort, @fleur-de-violette, @koraesrambles, @intergalacticwanderer, @androxys, and anyone who else who wants to play!

[tommoschaffner]

« much more than i bargained for »

little warning uh im a minor !! nsfw blogs dni please ^_^

summary — steve goes in for snacks, and comes out with a FAT crush.

promt — ‘ candy ‘

this will have multiple chapters that i will post whenever i have the energy to write more ^_^ im often busy with school+homework ++ so dont expect weekly updates or whatever LOL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve sighs as he enters the shop, the little one at the top of his street, right at the corner. There’s music playing through the speakers, but not the usual kind he hears at the shops. Steve wants to say it’s— cooler? Yeah, cooler.

He bobs his head to the beat a little as he wanders inside, a high-pitched bell ringing as he does. The guy working the till’s head shoots up at the sound, like he’s scared or something. He makes eye contact with Steve, before smiling softly and looking back down.

Steve lets his eyes trail down his body, following his arms, down to his hands, where they’re holding a magazine between his slender legs, which are hanging off an old wooden stool.

He’s got tattooed wrists, and forearms, and hands. His fingers are decorated with delicate little designs, which are mostly covered with his many rings. Steve notices one in particular, a silver band with two little bat wings. It matches the tattoo just under his elbow, the one of a swarm of bats. His eyes begin to travel back up, spotting a bunch of, what look like, homemade bracelets on one of his wrists. They have words, but it’s not like Steve can read them, not from this far away.

It’s a few minutes before Steve realises he literally hasn’t peeled his eyes off the cashier, or even moved at all. He snaps back into reality when another customer enters, ringing the bell behind him.

Fuck, what was he in here for again? Oh— yeah, snacks. Candy. Robin and Nance are probably bored of waiting for him. Or not, Steve doesn't think they could get bored even if they tried, not when they have a house to themselves.

Steve finally moves, and he swears to God, every single one of his bones have been replaced with jelly.

As he wonders around the shop, crossing the different foods Robin requested off his list, he makes a mental note of how much money he’s gonna need.

A dollar fifty, three dollars, four dollars and ninety-nine cents.

He ends up with candy, and drinks, which all amounts to ten dollars and fifty cents.

Steve sort of doesn’t notice that he’s at the counter ‘til the guy behind it asks if he wants a bag. They’re so close now, Steve can see what he looks like up close. He has these gorgeous eyes, that sort of droop down at the ends. Thick, dark, eyelashes that cast a shadow on his cheeks. And, most notably, long, curled hair. A rich, dark brown colour. Strands of it lay on his shoulders, almost blocking the view of the badge on his shirt, his name tag, that says ‘Eddie’, in little, blue letters.

“Do you? Want a bag, I mean,” Eddie repeats, seemingly now a little annoyed. Steve watches his lips when he speaks, and, fuck, he’s pierced. Angel fangs, Steve recalls in his head. That’s what they’re called, the ones that look like sharp, shiny teeth. He wonders what they’d feel like if he kissed Eddie, how they contrast of his plush, warm lips with cold, hard metal would feel. The thoughts send a wave of heat rushing through Steve’s belly.

“No, I— I’m okay, I’ve got my own,” he says, pulling his rucksack off his shoulders and unzipping it.

Eddie just smiles that same, soft smile, tells Steve how much money he needs to give him.

And Steve gives him the money, wordlessly. He puts his shopping in his bag, wordlessly. And he looks back up at Eddie, again, wordlessly. Like he’s expecting him to do something else. Or maybe he’s waiting on himself to do something.

Eddie swears he can hear the cogs turning in Steve’s brain.

“Well— okay, uh, bye, thank you!” Steve smiles, and practically sprints out of the shop.

He rushes home with a million thoughts in his head, the main one being something along the lines of ‘why, in the absolute fuck, didn’t you ask for his number? Or at least try to make small talk?’

Steve can’t answer that. He doesn't know why.

Well, there’s always next time.

[gwaedhannen]

Ten first lines

Did I get tagged? No. Do I care? No. Also not gonna tag anyone because pretty much every author I follow has already posted at least one set of these.

Most of these are from WIPs, since I only have four published works so far (two of which are just one part of future larger works).

Kill the flame

Once per year, on the night of a holiday only she still celebrates, Galadriel lights fourteen candles.

The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You

"Do you remember...?"

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?

Hitheth brings her own wedding dress from the closet, buried deep beneath two decades of Aerin’s outworn clothes, too precious to be repurposed when thread was plentiful.

Excerpts from Sorrow Beyond Words: Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath, 3rd Edition, ed. Elrond Peredhel. Kortirion Public Library, copy received SA 2449

“The worst thing I saw during the War?

Unwritten

Dior Eluchil, son of a Fairy Tale, arrives in the Halls of Mandos and simply walks out through the ceiling.

May you rise to find the sun

Celebrían's first steps into the foam of Tol Eressëa are halting and unsteady, for she still cannot bear to be touched.

Lament for Sirion

It was seven in the morning on a perfectly sunny day in paradise when Elwing opened the front door of her tower and found a nightmare kneeling in the sand.

Rest in my arms, sleep in my bed

Elves are so weird about their hair, Pippin had decided in Rivendell.

My adaneth girlfriend could beat up your adaneth girlfriend

The solitary spirit once known as Ambaráto Aikanáro Arafinwion Eärwenion was sulking. 

A Million Dead and I?

High King Arafinwë of the Noldor returned in triumph to Valinor, with his enemy humbled and cast into nonexistence, with scattered handfuls of the haggard and homeless elves of Beleriand-that-was looking for new homes in the West, with none of the family he thought to save.

[blighted-lights]

I feel like your approach to criticizing a certain fandom was the wrong way of doing it. Don't get me wrong, you are a hundred percent right about the lack of representation for certain characters. But you had to have known that you would've gotten backlash for insinuating that the only reason that content is being made is because people are... misogynistic? The characters are well-written; that's why they get attention. The women are also well-written, you're right! But instead of getting mad at the people who enjoy specific characters, you could contribute to what you want to see in the fandom. Make fanfiction, make art, talk about your favorite ships, talk about your favorite characters, talk about the head-canons you have for them, connect with other fans of those characters, make AUs with them, make the fandom you want to see! But I don't know what you were expecting when you come out and say in the tags "you must be misogynists for liking these characters and you must be awful people for playing around with AUs" even though every fandom on this website does that. That was hostile and was only going to get a hostile response in return especially when you specifically put it in the tags for fans of those characters to see. Because it reads as you insinuating that fans of these characters existing is why you don't get any representation of your favorite characters. Or, alternatively, that everyone only likes certain characters because they're misogynists who hate women characters. People make content of them because they like them and because they want to make content of them.

Want more content of the things you want to see? Pay or support the artists and writers who make that content or start making it yourself. Its not helpful to complain that some characters get more attention than others but then make no attempt to contribute to it in any meaningful way. You cannot just get mad at people for liking characters and expect the fandom to magically decide its going to give you the content you want.

This is a long-winded way of saying you are correct in that the fandom seems to hyper-focus on some characters over others. But the way you approached that discussion was combative, hostile, and unhelpful, and you're not going to motivate a community into making content by being passive-aggressive to the people making the content they want to make. Be the change you want to see in the fandom, or support the artists and writers who make the content you want to see.

Its like... You can't complain your garden isn't growing if you're not watering it and not adding seeds, and instead are blaming everyone else for having plants in their gardens that you don't like.

anon i dont know how to tell you this but if you felt the need to write a five-paragraph essay talking about how i need to be nicer to other people when i am pointing out misogyny in a fandom space then, well... actually, i dont know what to tell you other than the fact that i was trying to be aggressive and im not going to be civil about misogyny. my post wasn't made in the hopes of getting people to make more content of the women in borderlands because that would never in ten fucking million years work. it was not a constructive post. you are assuming i have some sort of goodwill about this and i don't. i wanted to be an asshole because, surprise, i am an asshole. funny how that works.

you are also pulling so much of this out of nowhere and putting so many words in my mouth that i dont even know where to begin with it?? i mean this in the kindest way possible nonnie but. this is a wild response to make when all i said was essentially "wow it sure is weird that the majority of content made for bl is focused on only three men when there's a full cast of amazing women to look at" and then "its also weird that people are making aus to erase the canon abuse and exploitation of a CHILD in order to make jack a good father". but thanks for the essay, nonnie. i guess.