#i love fantastic and i am not ashamed

[cypressbranch]

I wouldn't let these guys touch my solar arrays. Maybe... Actually i woudl

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Dorian Pavus

[aerithisms]

i think maybe i need to replay rebirth some time to look at this diplomatically because aerith is My Favourite and i might be biased but i think my biggest story critique of rebirth is that i wish they'd done a little more with her. given that this is the game she dies in i found it strange that they didn't push her into the foreground a little more since this is their last real chance to do that with her as a living member of the party (i'm sure she'll show up in some limited capacity in part 3 but dead lifestream!aerith is pretty different to alive!aerith i think).

i know that sounds like a weird thing to say when you consider stuff like them giving her the game's theme song to sing during loveless and the fact that the last chapter is basically The Aerith Movie but there is a strange lack of focus on her in moments where it feels like we should get more from her throughout the narrative. this game pushes tifa and cloud's relationship more in the mandatory story segments, and i LOVED what they did with that relationship in this game, but it felt odd that the same focus was not given to cloud's relationship with aerith throughout the story given that the ending hinges on him being so devastated by her death that he enters a delusional state of grief. and this isn't even a shipping thing bc as far as shipping goes i'm an aerti truther and i feel pretty equally neutral about both cloti and clerith as romances (if anything i prefer cloti!). it's about giving proper narrative buildup to the relationship that the game's tragic ending hinges on - a lot of aerith's most interesting scenes with cloud in the bulk of the game are optional, which i think is a weird thing to do given what the game is building to.

i also wish they did more with her being a cetra! again, the last couple chapters put focus on this but prior to that aerith is weirdly quiet about it. particularly in cosmo canyon, while we do get the lovely bonfire scene, aerith otherwise has a weird lack of dialogue when it comes to the lore dump scenes with the gi and bugenhagen. i expected her to feel some type of way about these revelations but any indication of that is at best subtext and she doesn't really say a lot about it. and for all that they emphasise aerith and nanaki's connection early on as beings closer to the planet, once you get to cosmo canyon there's a weird lack of payoff for it. same with tifa's dunk in the lifestream - i kinda thought aerith might have something to say about it as a cetra, and in fairness i think it's possible she did and the game is withholding some of aerith and tifa's offscreen interactions for part 3 (i swear this isn't even just an aerti cope lol i think the fact that they deliberately show them talking without us getting to hear it might be something they come back to), but i also wish we got to connect with this part of aerith's character more NOW, while she's still here, so it can inform our understanding of her choices and feelings at the end. i just find it kind of a bummer because aerith's complicated relationship to her heritage is a fascinating aspect of her character and her tragedy that i think goes a little untapped in this game, which means it's likely to go untapped in the story as a whole since she's. you know. dead.

[duskwoodraven]

I feel moved to speak, sooner rather than later because I believe time is of the essence and this needs to be understood in order to keep Moonvale from crumbling to the ground completely.

This is not completely spoiler heavy, but it will discuss the game. I should note that unfortunately I have not finished the episode because I am struggling with the mini games in making progress. So I do not know how the episode ends, but I need to say this in order for me to rest.

I am very angry and disappointed with this game, and even more than that, I hold a great deal of second hand embarrassment for Everbyte.

One of the greatest reasons I respected these developers during Duskwood is that the game never felt like a cash grab like so many games do these days. The option to make a one time payment for complete access to Duskwood was fantastic, an option they should have carried to here and that is the biggest grievance I have.

There is no reason a game should cost hundreds of dollars to experience and enjoy. There is no reason for the prices of gems to be as expensive as they are. This is unacceptable Everbyte, and you should feel ashamed of it, you should know better.

The beauty of Duskwood and what set it apart was its feel of realism and the fact that every question had a reasonable answer. Your use of AI art has cheapened the look of your game, not enhanced it, not to mention it’s insulting to use generated art when there are many artists who are already losing jobs to AI, artists who would have been happy to work with you if given the chance. If the cost of commission is too high, then use of stock photos you had before was just fine, and I believe you should have kept it, I can’t look at Ash and Charlie’s profiles without it striking me as goofy.

Furthermore, the story does not make sense, we were able to read chats because Jake made it possible for us, now it just feels like the return of a gimmick with no explanation, the same with the mini games, in the past we did mini games to “hack” into Hannah’s cloud, now we do it “just because”. It’s lost its feeling of meaning, not to mention most private chats are behind the gem paywall, which we never had to deal with before!

The characters seem more plain to me, or maybe they are loveable but I’ll never know because again, paywall. I can’t read the premium options and get to know them deeper because of it. There are also no profiles like before, which is awful because we can’t look back on past video calls and links and we can’t see what these characters are all about, their personality is gone.

Even MC’s answer options seem blander, more vanilla, repetitive or one directional.

I say this truthfully from my soul, if this was the style of of game you dropped but for Duskwood instead, I never would have played it.

I would have never fallen in love with it.

I would have never made this blog and would never have waited years for every episode and a new game.

I would have never made art and countless theories.

I would have deleted the game immediately.

So I’m asking you, begging you, please change this for our sakes, and especially for yours.

Because despite all my gripes and anger, and everything I’ve said, I know you guys have actually worked hard on this game because the evidence is there, hidden beneath it all.

I love the actual real life people you have for Adam and Eric, I was so moved to help Adam when he started to cry. I want to know why he knows us and wants our help. I laughed when Eric told us he had tripped, and I do want to get to know him. I even wished to lovingly twist Charlie’s neck! That is the game I remember loving, its writing and characters, I can see the potential here.

But you need to change something, otherwise I cannot support this game, I cannot force myself to play it. I will drop Moonvale.

Give the players a one time payment option for 100% complete access to the game, access to all premium options. That’s the least I feel anyone could ask of you and is biggest reason you are getting this backlash.

To my fellow players, if you agree with any of what I said then I ask you not to pay for anything until Everbyte changes to make their game more affordable. Don’t be quiet and please voice your opinions everywhere they can see it. That’s the only way something could change.

I am so sorry this is what we got… you all deserve better.

[skipper1331]

A Bronze // Esme Morgan

Being Lucy Bronzes younger sister was fantastic yet hard at times.

Lucy was a loving, caring and proctective (!!) sister - she would do anything for you. You loved her with your whole heart and playing football at a professional level together has always been a dream of yours.

When you got your first call up, she was the first person you called. Same thing with your call up for the euros and same thing now with the world cup.

You were beyond excited. There was only one problem.

With Lucy being in Barcelona and you being in Manchester you haven‘t had the chance to tell her that you were in a relationship. It wouldn‘t feel right telling her through the phone - your excuse. At some point there was a (high) chance that she would jump into a plane and fly straight to you.

To be honest you haven‘t told her yet because you‘re scared. Scared of her reaction or rather of her behavior towards Esme. She would rip her head off. And you really-really liked Esme. Nobody besides a few of your City teammates knew about you.

"Not kissing you all day long will kill me" Esme whined as she pulled at the hem of your shirt. Your arms looped around her neck "Don‘t be so dramatic" you chuckled. Esme fake gasped while clutching her heart, making you laugh. Her favorite sound.

Arriving in camp was a relief. You and Lucy were glued to the hips, updating on your lives. It was nice to see and talk to her in person again. Until now you never realized how much you missed her.

The first few training sessions went smooth. Esme and you kept things professional - acting like friends. Yet sometimes you caught yourselves staring a moment to long at each other. You would sneak lingering touches when nobody was watching or kiss in empty rooms. You couldn‘t help it you were just so in love with one another.

"What would you think about if we told Lucy?" you asked as you sat down at the table. The table was still empty only Esme and you already sitting there with plates in front of you. "Tell Lucy what?" Said person asked. Esme chocked on her water. She didn‘t mind telling her yet she feared Lucy kind off. "Luce! Hey" you smiled through your nervousness. "Tell Lucy what?" her tone was rough. She hated when she didn’t know things- especially when they involved you, her little baby. "Oh nothing! No worries" smiling, you tried to convince the defender. Of course with no luck. "Y/n" she grumbled. "I‘m dating your sister" Esme blurted out. The whole dining room went silent. "Does she have death wishes?" someone gasped. Jordan was standing behind Lucy who was about to explode. "Come again?"

"I am dating Y/n" she took your hand to emphasize her words.

Something clicked inside Lucys mind. You dating someone? No absolutely not. "Do not touch her!" aggressivly, she parted your hands. "Y/n? Is this true?"

"Yes" you looked down, not because you were ashamed but because you felt horrible. You knew Lucys eyes would tell you that she‘s hurt because you didn‘t tell her. And you also knew that her eyes would be full of fury. "Lucy I-" abruptly, lucy shoved her plate to Jordan and grabbed Esme by the collar of her shirt. Even though the blonde was tall enough to have her feet on the ground it was still intimidating as hell. "Lucy!" you yelped. "You better leave my sister alone or you will have some real trouble. Understood?!" your attempt to break them apart was as successful as a shark trying to climb up a tree. pretty much impossible. "I'm not afraid of you" the audacity to talk only made Lucy angrier and made you smile bright. Nobody ever tried to fight your sister for you.

"That‘s enough!" Millie and Rachel grabbed Lucy and shoved her the other way. Lunch was over for her. "Fuck. Are you okay?" Worry laced your voice as Esme was free. Her hand rubbed her neck while the other one was shaking. "Ye-yeah" you pulled her down to sit. "Jordy, could you - you know?" Jordan gave you a nod before your attention was back on Esme.

Lucy was sitting in the gym trying to calm herself down. It was hard. You‘re her little girl how could she not be mad. She was hurt that you didn‘t tell her. She was mad at the fact you were dating someone. not because of a relationship but of the risk of you getting hurt. The worst pain for her isn‘t any physical, seeing you cry/hurt that‘s the worst pain.

One of your first matches for the senior team ended with you being hospitalized due a head injury. The cry of pain which left your mouth was horrific. It haunted Lucy for months. "Hey" a calm voice said. Jordan. "Here‘s your food" carefully, she sat the plate down. "Thanks"

While they ate in silence Lucy appreciated Jordan being there. "I‘ll tell you that because i'm your friend", the villa player started as they finished their meals, "that was such a shit move" which ended with a smack to the head for the Barcelona player. "It’s your sisters girlfriend"

"She‘s too young for a relationship" Jordan looked at her with her 'seriously?' expression. "Esme is not good enough" again, Jordan looked at Lucy with the same expression. "Well. Let‘s look at it from this perspective: would you rather have a total stranger to be with y/n?" No reply. "That‘s what I thought."

"Doesn't mean I approve it"

"You don't have to approve it, at least for now but for starters you can respect them."

Only a grumble was heard.

"For what it’s worth, I think they‘re good for each other"

"I don't"

The next few days Lucy didn‘t talk to either one of you yet she watched from afar. It stung. After not seeing each other for months she was now ignoring you for who knows how long. It made you sad and angry.

"You look hot" you said to Esme as there was a water break. "Than-" she started, her cheeks turning crimson. you didn‘t mean that kind of hot in the moment. Yes, Esme was hot in your eyes but - "Let me help you" with a quick squeeze of your bottle you splashed her face with water. "Hopefully, you don‘t become a mermaid" you laughed referring to H2O, a series you love. A loud gasp escaped the blonde who was chasing you by now. "Arghh come here" the defender smacked her arms around your hips, turning you around so you could face her "that wasn‘t nice, baby" she tried to have a stern face but was failing miserably. "ooopsie" catching her off guard as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, you entangled your body from her arms and ran away again.

Beach day with the team; while some of your friends were walking to the ocean others were talking or playing in the sand (tooney and lessi) whereas Esme and you sat in the sand enjoying the sun. The blonde was hugging you from behind as you laid your back on her chest. Under the sun rays she looked like a goddess. You fell in love with her all over again. "You should stare at the ocean not at me" your girlfriend whispered so she wouldn‘t ruin the vibe "you‘re way more beautiful" was your only reply. As she locked eyes with you you saw the way they lit up after your confession.

Even though you were with Esme and/or the team most of the time your heart was still broken. You missed your best friend. And your girlfriend could tell. She saw the way you would look at Lucy - she would never look back at you. She saw the way your mind was spinning, thinking about If you should approach Lucy. When Chloe (your roommate) told Esme that she heard you crying in the night the defender decided to take the problem into her own hands. It was hurting you - so it was hurting her.

"Lucy! Wait" the blonde pleaded as she saw Lucy alone. "What?" her voice wasn‘t angry or rough, it was normal yet her facial expression was stone cold. "Look, If you don‘t like me that’s fine but ignoring y/n isn‘t. It‘s her first world cup.. you should support her." Lucy didn't want a lecture so she turned around, ready to walk away. "Do you know she requested number 12 on her jersey because of you?" That statement made her stop in her track. "It was your number at the World Cup 2015. She admires you and it hurts her that you don‘t talk to her." Deep breaths, Esme, you can do it. What Esme was about to say took a lot of courage to say out loud but she knew she had to tell Lucy. "I love her, okay? I really do. She- she doesn't know that I do but I do. And I want to make her happy but she‘ll never be fully happy If you aren‘t in her life. So please.. just talk to her."

Lucy thought about Esmes words and how true they were (If someone asked her, she would never admit it). As well she talked to Jordan about them who agreed with Esme (like everybody would) and as the night went on Lucy was determined to work things out with you.

After training was finished the next day you found yourself sitting on the pitch, staring into nothing. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally.

As soon as you felt a presence beside you, you knew who it was. It was the one person you desperately wanted to talk to you. There was a silence for a few minutes. Lucy had to sort her thoughts before she could start her apology.

Esme was standing with Hempo, Chloe and Alex. Even though she knew that Alex was talking, she couldn‘t listen. She tried but her gaze kept glanzing to you. "Are they gonna make up?" Lauren asked as she saw Esme looking towards you. "I hope they do."

"I‘m so proud of you." the Barcelona player started "and i‘m sorry" she wasn‘t looking at you and you weren‘t either. You both stared straight forward. "You were a bitch" you stated. "All- all I wanted was your support" tears started to build up but you didn‘t dare to let them leave your eyes. "I know and i‘m truly sorry but you have to understand-"

"What?! What do I have to understand?! You should love me unconditionally! Not matter what," your voice started to get louder with each word.

"Stop right there! I won‘t be accused of not doing so. I was there when you had your first football match. I spent hours playing with you. I was there at every important game of yours." by now her voice was also loud. "It was me who was there every step of the way. It was me!" Well, the tears you tried not to spill were running down your cheeks faster than you liked. "Then what do I have to understand?" your voice was back quiet. Small. "I am your big sister. I need to protect you" her voice level back to normal. "Esme won‘t hurt me" you laid your head on Lucys shoulder while her arm went around your back. "I know. She‘s a good one" your gaze wandered to your love who was already looking at you with a smile on her face. "She is"

Maybe things weren‘t fully solved yet, but for the beginning it was a step in the right direction. And with the Bronze sisters back as a team and a World Cup ahead it could only get better.

—————————

[darlingmbappe]

Out of the Dark | Kylian Mbappé x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Though months of an almost picture-perfect relationship, Kylian still kept you hidden like his own personal secret. How are you supposed to feel like it doesn’t have something to do with how much you weigh?

Warnings: Feelings of being insecure about your weight, slight angst at the beginning, vague sex scene, cussing, not edited very well. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

You’re so proud of him. Truly, he deserves every bit of praise he gets. Even before you’d met him, you followed his career closely, amazed at how someone your age could be accomplishing such monumental achievements. And now, you get to love him intimately, personally tell him how fantastic he is, how much you admire him.

You and Kylian have been together for around eight months, the greatest eight months. It was mutually agreed that your relationship would be kept in the dark from everyone. This seemed like the best idea, what with him having the status he does and you being just an average person. Besides, you’ve never enjoyed the spotlight and we’re happy to keep your weekly grocery store run paparazzi free.

Hidden behind that superficial excuse was the real reason why you were content not being in any tabloids… the bigger body you occupied wasn’t exactly something the media would ignore. You could practically read the headlines already, a reasonable delusion you constantly had to push from your mind in order to stay sane and secure.

It was hard work, learning to love yourself, building up your confidence. You knew you love and accept the body you had, but there was always that little voice in the back of your head saying, ‘am I strong enough to put myself out there like that?’

Kylian seemed relieved when you asked him if the relationship could be kept hush, but now you feel like it’s been too long. You’d brought up the idea of going public after your six month anniversary, but he dismissed it with a quick shake of the head, blaming his agent and how she would freak out if he was announcing a new relationship. She would set him up with dates for all of these events. Models, actresses, and influencers hung on his arm at red carpets while you snuggled alone on the couch, following the events through twitter.

He always assured you that he wished it was you, but it was too complicated. It was a viable excuse at first, but it’s four months away from your one year anniversary. You were tired of dropping hints about beautiful restaurants and romantic spots. You were starting to feel like he wanted to hide you, and not because of his agent would complain or his fans would uproar, but because he was ashamed of you. What a shitty feeling.

“What’s that look, amor?” Kylian asks your reflection in his bathroom mirror.

Not realizing you were lost in thought, you shake your head, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing.” Smile. “You look great.”

He fixes his tie then turns to you. “Very convincing.”

You try and play it cool, laughing. “No, you seriously look amazing.” It was obvious he didn’t mean that part, but you really don’t feel like having this fight right now.

“So do you.” He grabs your hips, trapping you against him and the door.

Now you really do laugh. “Good one, Ky.”

While he wore a designer suit, you were rocking a pair of boy-short underwear and an oversized hoodie. Kylian was going to another super fancy award ceremony. He was getting a trophy and everything, but you couldn’t be there with him. Instead, he’s going to kiss the cheek of a tall, skinny, gorgeous 21 year old model when his name gets called. She was get to be his date for the night while you — the girlfriend — waited patiently in his bed for him to come home and tell you all about it.

The dynamic of the whole affair sets in, sending a little tang of jealousy and insecurity through your body. He notices how your stare points away from him now as you wiggle out of his grip and trudge towards his bed. Kylian walks toward you as you flip through Netflix without any intention of picking something anytime soon.

“I wish you could come with me.” He offers, his facial expressions ridden with guilt. You respond with a quiet and half-hearted hum, continuing to look through the true crime collection. He picks up your dismissiveness. “You know I do.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t mean the sarcastic tone behind it, it was just a natural reaction.

He sighs loudly, scratching his neck. “If you want to say something, say something. I can’t read your mind.” You continue to flip through shows and movies, trying to mask the sad expression that you surely couldn’t hide much longer. “We agreed to this. We both wanted it this way.”

“Eight months ago.” You add, looking at him now. He looked annoyed, like this conversation was a burden to have. “At some point I want to get out of this house. I feel like we should, I don’t know… rethink that whole part of our relationship.”

“This again?” He shuffles to the corner to grab his shoes with a huff. “You know how complicated that would be. You would hate attention like that.”

“Maybe I would.” You sit up in your spot while he sits at the foot of the bed, his back facing you. “So what? I might not love the attention but at least we get to go out to dinner, or take a walk together, or I could hug you after a match, or act like we’re together at all!”

He finishes putting his shoes on, still facing away from you. Kylian doesn’t say anything back for a while. You just waited for him, he had to say something eventually. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Not what you wanted to hear.

You nod silently, but that hurt. You watched him grab his phone and wallet on the nightstand as he prepared to leave so he can pick up his literal runway model of a date.

“Are you ashamed of me?” The words came out of your mouth without your permission, but there they were — shifting the mood of the entire conversation without a second of mercy.

He looks back, his eyes rid of any annoyance and replaced with something kind of depressing, a look you’ve never seen from him before. He opens his mouth right as his phone rings, he looks down at it regretfully, sighing out. “One second.” He murmers sorely before he answers it.

You bit the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears at bay. Crying seems like the last thing you want to do right now. You turn your attention back to scrolling through the now very blurry movies on Netflix. He mumbles something about being right down and hangs up. “I…”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” You assured and bite your cheek harder, feeling the tears right there. “Can’t be late. Not a good look. I get it.” There was a clear harshness behind your permission.

“We’ll talk about this, alright?” He fidgets, making his way to you, kissing your forehead. You feel a tear fall and you wipe it just as quickly, not looking at him. “Hey,” he coos, lifting your chin up wo finally meet his stare. “I am not ashamed of you.” He wipes the tear and kisses your nose. “Okay?”

You nod, sniffling and casually wiping another stray tear away, offering a weak nod. “Okay.”

Kylian felt wrong for walking out at that moment. He knew you wanted to go public but never knew that you were feeling this way. It was something he wanted to unpack, something he wanted to make you feel better about.

That question drove him insane all night. His steak tasted dull, his wine tasted bitter, his date looked like nothing compared to you. She twirled her hair and batted her lashes, assuming he was single. Why wouldn’t she? Nothing in recent news even hinted at any kind of romance going on in the star footballers life, but he knew the truth. He knew who he had waiting for him under his covers, and she deserved better than what he was giving her.

The night crawled by, achingly clapping along with the crowd without really listening to what the applause could be about. After accepting his award, he only wished he could find you in the sea of strangers from the stage. He just wanted to go home. Lay with you, hold your hand, let you know his intentions.

Of course he’d thought about this secret relationship from your perspective. It’s weird, needing a date and not being able to take you, even if you were his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if the roles were reversed.

They kind of were once, and he hated that feeling with a burning passion. Your office held a Christmas party last year and everyone had to bring a date… something about even numbers for one of the holiday games they’d planned out. You mentioned it in passing that you were going with Neil, the handsome budget analysts that you considered to be one of your good friends. Kylian wanted to pick a fight so bad. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t like you going with someone else… but he couldn’t. You’d endured countless news articles pondering if he was dating one of the many women that accompany him, helped him look spiffy for these events, kissed him goodbye as he went to eat a nice dinner with hot models and actresses. How would that be fair?

Hours went by and you didn’t feel the need to wait up for him. These events could drag on for hours past your bedtime, and your mood tonight in particular didn’t feel up to listening to all the glorious details that he makes out to sound dreadful… free cocktails, gourmet food, meeting celebrities, making new friends… there were only so many ways to complain about it before it started sounding disingenuous. The more you thought about it the later it got, quickly time spiraled out of your control, finding yourself watching the busy streets of Paris through the open window from the bed. The frustration you felt when your eyes closed and all you saw was Kylian arm in arm with girls that weren’t you put a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

It couldn’t have been later than 1 o’clock in the morning when Kylian returned, his tie loosened, top buttons undone, jacket almost dragging on the ground as he trudged up the stairs, leaving the shiny new trophy by the door.

It’s kind of insane to him how on long days like these he craves your touch, your comfort. He never thought of himself as someone who could be dependent on another person, at least not in this time of his life. With his priorities set on becoming a legendary football star, he didn’t necessarily set aside time for romance, but you just… happened. Someone so unlike the others, your charm reeling him in until he knew he was done for. Helpless.

The pressure of the public eye is brutal. He knows first hand how the media can ruin a relationship, no matter how strong the pillars you stand on are. They find ways to chip you down, make you doubt everything, make you doubt yourself. You were innocent to it all. He wanted to keep you that way. Selfish, sure, but he knew it would eventually cause some vicious issues down the line. It happens every time.

As he walked through the bedroom door, the shape of your silhouette under the covers tugged on his heart. Though his brain was begging him to wash up in the bathroom and go to sleep, his feet lead him to your side of the bed.

He crouched down at eye level with you, petting a gentle hand on top of your head, taking his time to really look at your face. You eyes slowly opened, he offered a tiny smile that he didn’t even realize grew on his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, amour.” He cooed, running his thumb over your cheek.

“I can’t sleep.” You groggily respond, closing your eyes at his touch.

He leaned over, kissing your forehead continuously without pulling away. “I’ll come to bed in a second.” He mumbled against your skin before standing, taking off his uncomfortable outfit on the way. He made quick time brushing his teeth and washing his face, changing into a clean pair of boxer briefs before crawling into his spot next to you.

Without thinking twice, his hands latched around your waist, pulling your bodies close together and spooning you with his face nuzzled into your hair.

You were hyperaware of everything. The way that his hand landed on the puff of your stomach, the amount of room you took up on your half of the bed, the roll that formed when you laid on your side like you were. At the beginning of the relationship that’s all you could think about whenever Kylian wrapped his arms around you. It took you a while to not tense up and let yourself melt into his touch, but tonight you were taken back to the beginning. The questioning if you were ever going to be good enough. If you’d ever be taken seriously as a couple. If people thought you two looked weird together, that he could do better than you.

“You’re beautiful.” Kylian eased, snapping you out of your thoughts. He felt your muscles tight under your skin, he just wanted you to relax. “I mean it, (Y/N).”

You didn’t say anything back, gulping to try and get rid of the panicky lump in your throat. He kissed the shell of your ear, reaching his hand under your T-shirt and letting it land on your bare stomach.

You tensed up more, instinct telling you to get up and go to the bathroom or something to get out of this situation.

“Stop, bébé.” He clicked once feeling your squirming. “Let me hold you.”

The longer the two of you stayed silent, listening to each others breathing, basking in the warmth you both provided, you felt more at ease. He shifted slightly, letting himself look down on you while holding himself up on his forearm.

He touched your cheek, tracing tour eyelashes with his thumb. “I’m taking you out to a nice dinner tomorrow night.”

You furrowed your brows. “Out?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “That new Thai restaurant you told me about last week.”

The tears swarmed your eyes, a wave of happiness surging through your body like electricity. “Really?” Your voice came out squeaky, laced in weary excitement.

He smiled down at you, kissing your grin onto his own face. “Of course.”

“Oh, baby…” You coo, grabbing his face in your own hands, letting some of the tears run down the side of your face. “Thank you.”

Kylian wiped them away sweetly. “Don’t thank me. I should have done this a while ago. I shouldn’t have kept you hidden away all to myself for this long. It wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry.”

You pulled his neck down and kissed his passionately, but the pace was slow. Eventually, your tongues greeted each other expertly, his legs climbed over to lay his body on yours, his hand roamed under your shirt to feel your bare tits. It wasn’t long before you both got rid of the minimal layers keeping you apart, desperate to feel safe in each others touch.

He was gentle, loving, caressing every inch. Kylian spent extra time loving on the places he knew you overthought about. The ones that people would point out in the past. He kissed and licked them while praising you, leaving marks to remind you how he felt about you. All of you.

You attempted to roll over and have him take you from behind, but he pushed you down. “I wanna see your face. Wanna watch you. Wanna look at you.” He was borderline incoherent, but completely lucid. He said all the right things, forgetting completely about the surefire wave of trouble that would be headed your way tomorrow night.

Kylian was drunk on your sweet sounds. The continued “ah, ah, ah”’s that escaped your plumped lips drove him insane, cumming inside your shaking walls while watching the pleasure grow on your scrunched face. You came while clutching his biceps, closing your eyes tightly in euphoria.

He cleaned you both up, wiping you down with a wet rag before laying back next to you. This time, he pulled you into his chest while he laid on his back, feeling your body now comfortable and relaxed, listening to your soft snores that tickled his bare chest.

The next morning, Kylian’s side of the bed was empty, but the vague memory of his sweet kiss that landed on your forehead before he left send butterflies to your stomach. The much clearer memory of dinner plans tonight erupted another wave of them, motivating you to get the day started as soon as possible, needing to get home and prep for a night you’ve been waiting for for way too long.

On the doorstep of your humble townhome sat a big white box, a pink letter taped to the top with your name written nicely on top. It was obviously Kylian’s penmanship; neat but a little wonky. You giggled to yourself, bringing the box inside and opening the envelope.

To my sweet (Y/N),

You will look so beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to see you. Be ready by 7:30.

I love you, bébé.

-Kyks

You pressed the card dramatically to your chest, humming at the sweetness overload from your boyfriend. Though you wanted to relish in that moment, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to see what the hell was in the box.

“Oh, wow…” You gasp as you catch the first glimpse of the dress that sat neatly on the tissue paper. You pulled it out, putting it against your body. It was a pink floral midi dress, form-fitting at the top, looser on the skirt and a slit that ran down the side. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Thank god that Kylian has a sense of style or else you’d be making your debut in an ugly outfit… Even better, you were thankful he knew your size because that thing fit like a glove. Goddamn… you look so sexy in this.

Time flies, it really does. Especially when your brain is working overtime thinking about the absolute worst things that could happen. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking two shots of tequila to calm your jittery nerves, hoping the shaking in your hands or the knot in your stomach would subdue before the knock on the door came. But, alas, it came…

You took a deep breath in the mirror, checking yourself from head to toe. Confidence is something you had to build, and it’s so much harder than people make it out to be. Fake it ‘till you make it can only take you so far, the rest is real work, especially in a world that praises people who look the opposite of you.

You’d hear your thinner friends complain about how fat they looked right in front of you, as if you didn’t have to live in that reality every single day. It was like their worst nightmare was looking like you. They’d tell you “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” As if you couldn’t be both. You’d walk closely to the wall and try and take up the most minimal amount of space possible — as if you could hide your size, feeling like every judgmental eye was on you all the time.

It was the little things that added up (along with the more brutal comments you’d get through life), but your skin was thick. Thick, yes. Unbreakable? You were about to find out. As soon as you stepped out under the mercy of the public eye with him… you’ll be tested how much you can actually take. How much this relationship could actually take.

You swung the door open to reveal the most handsome sight you’d ever seen. Kylian wore an all black suit. You thought to yourself that this must be what the models of the past were used to opening their doors to. Now, it’s finally your turn.

Kylian was holding a bouquet of flowers that matched your dress, showing off a huge smile. He seemed like he wanted to speak words, but his eyes spoke for him, much louder than anything his voice could come up with.

He eyed you up and down, a visible gulp making you want to retreat into yourself shyly. “Hi.” You meeped, cheeks sore from the smile you couldn’t shake.

Kylian cleared his throat, blowing out a raspberry. “You…”

He continued to eye you, walking in slowly as you shut the door behind him. “You did good with this dress.” You complimented, taking the flowers from his hands and walking them to your sink to grab a vase.

“The dress is just a dress, amour.” He growled, watching your backside like a lion would his lioness, infatuated with every curve and crease your body created under the material. “You in that dress? Tu blagues?” Are you kidding me? He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and kissing your shoulder. “Oh lá lá…”

You laughed, lulling back into his touch, basking in his warm and secure embrace. “You always say the right things, Mbappé.”

He hums, unwrapping his arms and taking the flowers you were cutting from your hands, taking over the process. You stepped back and watched him as he filled the vase up with water, dropping them in with precision, one by one until they displayed beautifully.

He set them next to the bottle of tequila and shot glass you'd left out. He raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. "For the nerves."

"Ah..." He nods, opening the cabinet and grbbing a tiny glass for himself, pouring the golden liquid into each one, holding one out to you. "To nerves of steel." You clinked your glasses, throwing your heads back and shivering as it went down. With a grimace, he shook off the taste of the drink. "Ready?"

Your mouth was dry despite the liquid that still lingered in your mouth. You inhaled deeply, faking a smile on your face while grabbing your purse. "Yep."

Kylian sensed the waver in your confirmation, reaching out to hold both your hands. "They're going to say whatever they're going to say. We can't control their thoughts on our relationship." He kissed your knuckles and all the rings you'd decorated your fingers with. "But we can't let them keep controlling us."

"I love you." You say, looking deep into your man's eyes and thinking about all the emotions you've seen them hold. The frustration after a loss. The playfulness before sex. The adoration during the first I love you that slipped his tongue. The relief that washed away the anxious look when you said it back.

"Your carriage awaits, princesse." He takes your purse and hold your hand, leading you both to the door that he opened for you.

You thanked him as he helped you into the large town car, running around to the other side and sat next to you.

As you neared the restaurant, his hand never leaving your thigh, you just looked at him, taking in every ounce of his being.

He wasn't ashamed of you. He loved you. He cared, he listened, he was perfectly yours. You knew no matter the things you'd surely read about yourself, the things you'd surely think about yourself at times, that Kylain would be a constant. This new chapter might bring some hard times, but you'll stand with Kylian. And he'd stand with you. You knew he would.

A/N: Plus sized ladies never get nearly enough representation on this platform. Hope you all enjoyed, this is something I wrote from my own feelings/experiences being plus sized! Love you all so much.

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @http-isabela

[cyren-myadd]

Avatar official account posted their screenplay of the Sullys arrived at the Metkayina clan on their TikTok. This part here caught my eye. Neytiri has a secret shame that her kids are half half-human.

What's your thoughts?

oh man, I have some really mixed feelings about this ngl...

First thing I want to say before I get into my rant is remember that not everything in the old script is canon, so Neytiri feeling ashamed of her children isn't canon as of right now, but there's a possibility this will be confirmed in a later movie.

A little self-disclosure, I'm engaged to a guy who is from a different race and culture than me, and I'd like to have a kid with him at some point. My partner and I have discussed the fact that our kids would be mixed, and we've already made plans to teach them both of our native languages and make sure they're exposed to both of our cultures. Even though my kids will be different from me in some ways, I don't care, I'll still love them no matter what and I can't imagine ever being ashamed of their differences-- especially since I was the one who chose to have children with a man who was a different race/culture.

While Avatar is completely fictional, the romance between Jake and Neytiri is a clear allegory for a real-life mixed-race couple, with their children's "hybrid" traits being an allegory for real-life mixed-race children feeling insecure about their features. Obviously, not everything is a one-to-one allegory, since Neytiri has been directly and violently victimized by Jake's people and most modern mixed-race couples in my country deal with more systemic forms of oppression instead, but the allegory is still there.

To be completely honest, if the writers actually follow through with this line from the script and show Neytiri being ashamed of her children on-screen, I might actually start to hate Neytiri. Her other character flaws, like her chauvinism, her resistance to change, and her hypocrisy about Jake vs Spider, are completely understandable, especially since she's been through unbelievable amounts of trauma because of humans. I still like Neytiri a lot even with her flaws. But being ashamed her own kids? The kids she chose to birth/adopt, knowing they were hybrids? These two babies right here?

I am really, really trying to be understanding here, 'cause Neytiri's been through trauma that I could never imagine, but still... ma'am those are YOUR babies. I don't think any kind of trauma justifies being ashamed of your children for something they have no control over.

Whenever I see that screenshot, all I can imagine is Kiri or Lo'ak finding out their mom feels ashamed of them. Could you imagine? They would be absolutely crushed. I think Lo'ak especially would have some kind of a crisis over it, since he's already so insecure about being a hybrid. Even Miles freaking Quaritch, the vengeful colonizing monster, isn't ashamed of his son being so different from him.

For the record, I know the only reason I feel so strongly about this is because I'm projecting my own feelings about being in a mixed-race relationship and planning to have mixed-race kids onto Neytiri. But I feel the way I feel, and if this ever becomes canon I would never be able to look at her the same way, so I'm hoping this idea stays in the old script and never sees the light of day again.

No matter what happens, this is James Cameron's story, and I trust him to deliver a fantastic movie even if I don't like everything about it. Besides, this is only one line. It doesn't go in-depth into the nuances of Neytiri's feelings. Maybe if they choose to go with this concept and flesh it out better, I'll change my mind about it, who knows.

I'm also gonna add this here, cause I know how tumblr is: these are just my personal feelings on the topic-- my personal feelings that are completely subjective and are greatly effected by my own life experiences. I know some people like this idea and think it would be a great thing to explore for Neytiri's character, and if you think that, then great, good for you, no hate to anyone with a different opinion.

[corpsebasil]

Hi! I saw that you asked for requests and because we just don't have enough Nikolai content and your stories are fantastic, I made a Nikolai x Reader request :) this will be a bit longer. Sorry about that 🙈

After his coronation, Nikolai is supposed to find a suitable wife, of course. By a "coincidence" he meets reader. She is the only child of a general/lord and he falls madly in love with her. He starts courting her, they fall in love and are happy together. Everything seems perfect and he wants to propose to her. However, their meeting was not a coincidence, but planned by her father and other lords and generals. Since they are below Nikolai's ministers, they have no access to him and the palace. So Reader is sent ahead to „open“ the gates of the palace for her father and his entourage to overthrow Nikolai. Reader, however, warns Nikolai just before they do so, allowing him to save himself. Ashamed of having allowed herself to be manipulated and betraying the man she loves, she flees the palace, but is apprehended by her father's men. She leaves Nikolai a letter in which she confesses her feelings for him but also the whole truth about her father. Nikolai is absolutely devastated. Some time later, Nikolai decides to attack her father and his henchmen in their hideout and arrest them. Tamar and Tolya hear a faint heartbeat in the basement of the house and find Reader badly injured. They take her to Nikolai and back to the palace where she is treated. In the end, the two marry and live happily together, as she betrayed not Nikolai but her father and almost giving her life for Nikolai.

As you can see, I am a simp for Nikolai and happy endings with drama along the way! Would be very happy if you would write it. Thank you! 🤍

The girl, the only daughter of a lord in the north, had been locked in the basement for days now.

She clutched her hands together, staring down at the emerald ring that rested on her finger. He had proposed—her Nikolai, the love of her life, had proposed. And instead of bedding him, instead of kissing the hell out of him and celebrating their engagement, all she could do was cry.

She told him the truth, then. That her father had used her as a pawn, had used him as a pawn, to steal his throne and conquer his kingdom.

Nikolai had only stared at her in horror, his own heart breaking at her words, and stared down at his new fiancée, down on her knees and begging for his forgiveness.

“Was any of it real?” He had asked, eyes lining with water as he stepped away, staring down at the girl crumpled into a heap at his feet. “All this time—did you ever love me?”

She had wept, hiding her face in her hands as she nodded, praying to every Saint above for his forgiveness. Because yes, gods yes, she loved him. She had been flustered when they met, by chance, she a visiting courtier attending a party in Ravka thrown in the prince’s honor. When he’d seen her, catching her stare across the ballroom, he’d winked. And when he appeared next to her like an apparition, begging for a dance, she almost forgot herself in that blue gaze as she accepted.

Almost.

Because she had been sent as a spy, as a distraction, in order to further her father’s access to the palace. And when he’d kissed her that first time, that perfect mouth against her own, she’d almost cracked. Almost told him right then of all the scheming and treachery—but she couldn’t. Because she was selfish, and she was falling for him, and she didn’t want to waste a single precious second with the prince of Ravka.

So when he had proposed, dropping to his knees to beg for her hand, telling her he’d love her until the last of his days, she’d broken. All she could feel was the weight of her betrayal and manipulation, and she’d broke, bursting into tears and begging for his forgiveness.

But he hadn’t.

He’d only stared at her, disbelief and heartbreak crossing his face, as he questioned every touch, every glance, every night spent tangled up in sheets together, his name a desperate plead against his mouth. He’d bedded her, for gods sakes. He’d bedded and loved and cared for her, and she…she was a traitor.

And when she fled into the night, in pain and heartbroken, she’d been captured by her father’s men. Seeing the pain on her face and absorbing her refusal to tell them anything, to give them an inch, for that she’d been tortured and locked in that basement, her life draining from her with every heartbeat.

Her father loved her, she knew that. But he loved power more.

So she fought him. She fought him with everything she had, and when he’d stabbed her, when desperation filled his face and he begged her to forgive him, to find a healer, she refused. She’d rather die than live in a world where she wasn’t Nikolai’s wife; she was a traitor, and she’d die like one.

So she closed her eyes and slept, her breathing growing shallow, and slipped gratefully into the darkness.

***

Nikolai had been betrayed.

The ache of it had filled every inch of his body, and he couldn’t shake the memory of it. Of her—the only woman he had dared to truly love, begging on her knees for his forgiveness. Warning him of the treachery of her father. And when word had been sent that she’d been kidnapped, that unspeakable horrors were being committed to her, he didn’t know whether he wanted to run to her or for her to rot.

“Please, Nik.” Tamar begged, one of Y/N’s closest friends at the palace. “She’s a good person. She never would’ve told you about her father if she didn’t—”

“She never loved me.” He spat, whirling on his guard, and the woman glared.

“She loved you with everything she had.” Tamar argued, glaring at her prince with an authority he’d never seen before on her face. “Trust me. If anyone would know, it’d be me.”

“And how would you—”

“Because I’m the one she told about the plot.” She growled, getting right into his face. “I’m the one she went to for advice. Because I’m the only one who trusts her with my entire heart—unlike you apparently. Some fiancé you are.”

His breathing quickened, and he stared, contemplating every word. Could it be true? Could she—was it real?

“Did she really love me?” He asked, voice hoarse with grief, and was stunned to see Tamar tearing up.

“You were all she talked about.” The Grisha admitted, glancing down at the floor. “I couldn’t get her to shut up about you.” She took a deep breath, looking up at the prince. “If you don’t love her, I understand. But I’m going after her. I’m going to save her, and I’ll do it with or without your help.”

Nikolai stared back, hardly able to breathe, but nodded, allowing a kernel of hope to bloom inside his broken, shattered chest. And so when Tamar explained the plan, explained what would happen, they plotted throughout the night, and left in the morning.

***

Y/N was barely breathing when she heard the voices.

She’d been hearing noise for hours now, above her, noises that sounded like guns and screaming and death. Good, she had thought. Let the bastards die. But her eyes closed, tiredness covering every inch of her, and her hand finally left her stab wound, the hole in her stomach wide and leaking blood at a rapid pace.

She was done trying to survive. She had held the wound off and on, groaning when the pain became too much to bear, but she was done. She didn’t care if she died there, on the floor. Didn’t care if she never saw Nikolai—

The thought made her gasp, pain flooding every inch of her, as she pictured his vivid blue eyes and his gorgeous face. That face that had smiled at her, had teased her, had bought her gifts and showered her with affection and—and—

A strangled sob left her mouth at the realization that she’d never see him again. She knew tonight was her last night. She could feel it in her soul. So she closed her eyes, focusing on that image of him, of her fiancé, in her mind, and allowed her blood to spill out onto the floor.

***

When she woke, her entire body felt strange. Her eyelids were heavy as she forced them open, glancing around at the space she was in. Not the basement no, but familiar bedchambers. Bedchambers she’d slept in, had had meals in, had been touched in—

She almost jolted upright at the realization before pain made her lay back down, a low moan slipping from her lips.

A hand touched hers so fast she startled, and looked up into the eyes of Tamar, her best friend letting out a strangled sob at the sight of her awake.

“Y/N,” the woman gasped, clutching her hand and bringing it to her own chest. “We thought you’d—I could barely hear your heart and—”

“I’m…” the girl forced out, still fighting the urge to fall back asleep. “…fine.”

“Like hell you are.” Another voice told her, and she turned her head, spotting Tolya blinking awake on the chair beside her bed. The male clutched her shoulder in a gentle squeeze, his brown eyes soft. “We searched for you for almost half an hour. I thought Tamar would kill me if I didn’t find you.”

“I would have.” Her best friend promised, and Y/N let out a shaking laugh.

“I’m sorry.” She croaked, clearing her throat against the dryness while Tolya poured her some water. “I never meant for—I mean, I knew but—” she swallowed again, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I loved you all. I do love you all. And when he—” she couldn’t speak anymore, remembering the agony on Nikolai’s face, and her mouth crumpled. She couldn’t stop herself from crying, embarrassed as she wept, and didn’t protest, despite her pain, when Tolya wrapped her arms around her in a hug.

Her favorite siblings were both cooing sympathies, touching her hair and comforting her, when the bedroom door opened. Tolya pulled away immediately, but Tamar lingered, a territorial look on her face when the prince of Ravka ventured into the room. Y/N looked away from him, pressing her face into Tamar’s shoulder, and the older girl simply ran a hand along her back in support.

“If you hurt her,” Tamar threatened, refusing to stand down to her prince, her captain, that dominated her in leadership in every way possible. “I will kill you.”

Tolya startled, shooting his sister a horrified glance, but Nikolai only bowed his head in deference.

“I understand.” He said, voice low and breaking, and Tolya moved out of his chair towards the door. Tamar gave Y/N a questioning look, a look that asked if she felt comfortable being alone, before the girl nodded. Tamar sent Nikolai one last death stare before leaving the room, shutting it behind her.

Y/N and Nikolai didn’t speak, her eyes fixed on some corner of furniture across the room, her stomach aching with the stitches and her heart throbbing in her chest. After a moment, she spoke, her voice tired and soft.

“You should’ve let me die.” She told him, still somehow missing the cold bliss of the blackness that had ended her pain and depression. She remembered what slipping into it had felt like, when she felt her blood against her own fingers and had simply slept. Peaceful. Painless.

“You know I couldn’t allow that.”

“Why?” Her voice snapped out of her and she winced, allowing her fingers to seek out the stitches in her stomach, remembering her father’s blade. It was tender to the touch, the wound, and the pads of her fingers traced the thread woven into her skin. “You didn’t want me then. Why should you—“

“I have always wanted you.” Nikolai argued, sitting down beside her. When he peeled back the covers and eyed her wound, his heart tripped over itself. “You—for me?”

“I would rather have died down there than you hate me.” She sniffed, looking away. But then his hand caught her face and she was forced to look at him, her eyes filling with tears as they stared up at him.

“I love you.” He insisted, leaning down to kiss her brow, and held her when she shook against him. “I’m going to marry you, Y/N Y/L/N. And you cannot stop me.”

“I want that.” She sniffed, pushing past the pain enough to loop an arm around his neck. To breathe in his scent and to touch his hair. She almost cried harder, remembering how she’d held onto his image as she’d laid dying. The Saints were looking after her, then. If they’d let her survive.

“I love you.” He repeated, kissing her softly, and she clutched at him, her eyes spilling over.

“I love you too.” She swore, and was thankful that they had saved her. And when they did get married, when her wound healed and they started their life together, she didn’t miss her father or his conspirators.

Not one bit.

BOOM I hope you like it

[coochellati]

My dear, I always look forward to your Bruno posts! Within your canon, could you maybe do some headcanons about some kinks the capo has? I can totally see him being ashamed of some of the stuff he might be into

AWE thank you!! I appreciate your kind words so much 💕 and HELL yes!!! This is such a fun question!! I’m so excited you asked this, and I can’t wait to share my thoughts 😭💕

Also, I fully agree with you—there are definitely some things he's into that he feels ashamed about, mostly regarding his submissive desires. (I believe he can become more comfortable with them over time with his partner's help.)

I discussed this topic with Maggie, so I want to give her a shout-out! (@phosphor-escent / @cornerfortherats) Go check her out, she’s awesome 🩷 (and she’s a fantastic person to hold a deep conversation about Bruno with.)

Alright, let's get into it!!!

Length: 1.5k words

Dom/Sub Dynamic

Most of Bruno's kinks stem from his main one, which is his affinity for a dom/sub relationship in the bedroom. (Specifically, the power imbalance that comes from such a dynamic.) Bruno is a powerful individual--he holds much authority as a Capo or the Underboss of Passione (like he is in my post-GW headcanon.) He enjoys exerting this power in the bedroom, taking pleasure in the control he has over you.

However, Bruno's job also puts him in a position where he rarely gets a break from being in command. Because of this, he isn't just a dom--he also finds it exhilarating to relinquish his authority and take on a submissive role.

One of the reasons a power dynamic turns him on so much is because of the deep trust required between both partners for it to happen. There's nothing more intimate than being able to fully trust your partner, and the fact that you're allowing yourself to be put into such vulnerable positions demonstrates the deep trust between you. (And the same goes for Bruno when he's in the submissive role.)

Now that I've established that I believe he is a switch, we can get to the kink list. For each kink, I will specify the context in which he enjoys it. (Domming, subbing, or both?)

Orgasm Control

He enjoys the use of orgasm control when domming and subbing, with an emphasis on edging and denial.

When domming, he loves watching your reactions to what he's doing and seeing how desperate you become for him. It's the fact that you want him and that he's the one giving you that pleasure that gets him. It's no wonder (he kind) of power trips off of it.

When on the receiving end, part of what excites him is the unexpected nature of it. He has no idea when you'll let him cum or deny him pleasure, which keeps him on edge--literally and figuratively.

Overstimulation

Becoming overwhelmed/overwhelming someone with stimulation is something he finds particularly hot. He'll crumble apart into a mess when you do it to him.

Discipline

Bruno enjoys this kink in the context of both roles. He can be particularly evil as a dom, and one way he enjoys disciplining you involves using orgasm control as a form of punishment. Playing games that hinge on his lie-detecting ability excites him--if you get caught lying, he punishes you. ;)

Being punished is something he enjoys as well--being "put in his place" reminds him of the power imbalance at hand. He especially enjoys being spanked, flogged, overestimulated, edged, and denied.

Bondage

He loves bondage in any context, and it just so happens that his stand ability is perfect for this kink. Bruno can get extremely creative using Sticky Fingers--for instance, he can use his zippers to attach your body to something, attach your body parts together, completely zip you apart, etc., etc. (I am very passionate about this topic, and have written about it extensively.)

This next thing doesn't exactly fall under the bondage umbrella, but when you're restrained, he may decide to use his cock on you as a dildo, having Sticky Fingers detach it from his body.

Being restrained is fun for him, too, and the power loss that comes with it excites him. There is, however, a slight issue: if you're using normal methods to restrain him, Bruno can escape at any time with Sticky Fingers. This can make the task of creating immersion more difficult--if you don't have any way to keep him from using his ability, there's a good chance he'll eventually break out on his own accord and flip the switch. He's too much of a weasel to let you get away with domming him for so long.

If you're somehow able to keep him from using his ability, (perhaps you're a stand user yourself,) it would increase his arousal tenfold--knowing he can't escape no matter what adds a nerve-wracking, salacious thrill. (He's nervous because he generally doesn't like it when he has no control over his situation. It's hot in a sexual context, though.)

If he stays restrained until the end, (or decides to be good and plays along,) he may turn on you as soon as he's set free. He's not going to let you get away with what you've done to him. ;)

Praise

He loves praise in both contexts, especially when he's on the receiving end. Being told, "I'm proud of you," isn't something he hears very often, (especially not from the people he's associated with,) so when he hears he's doing well in the bedroom, he feels like he's walking on air. Maggie stated that she likes to imagine that there would be a 50/50 chance that if you praised him during his first time, he’d finish early.

I agree with this statement.

Biting

Do you know what cute aggression is? According to Wikipedia, it's "the urge to squeeze or bite things perceived as being cute without the desire to cause any harm." In other words, it's that feeling you get when you see something so cute you want to squeeze it. Bruno can't help but feel this way toward you at times. (He only really acts on it in the bedroom.) It's worth noting that his bites aren't too painful; they're just strong enough to leave a small mark that fades within a day or so.

He's not into receiving bites--he doesn’t want to have to explain to people in the workplace why he has them.

Hair Pulling

For Bruno, pain (in small doses) heightens the pleasure and makes the experience more enjoyable. As long as you're not yanking his hair from his scalp, he's enjoying it. He also makes a point to be delicate with your scalp because of this.

Latex and Lace

Do I need to explain this one?

Kidding aside, nothing turns on Bruno more than seeing you adorned in lacey garments or a tight, latex bodysuit that hugs your body in all the right places. Need a way to get him hard quickly? Wear something sexy. ;)

Here's the best part: not only does he enjoy seeing you all dressed up, but he also loves dressing up himself. (OF COURSE!! He's already got that lacey one-piece he wears every day.) His confidence soars in garments like latex and lace--nothing makes him feel sexier. (Can you imagine Bruno in a latex bodysuit? Jesus Christ almighty, I would die on the spot. OH my god, the bulge. )

Giving Massages

Given that he loves focusing on you, Bruno would happily lather you in body oil/lotion and massage your entire body. The poor guy would be rock-hard after doing this. (Of course, he'd also be rock-hard if you gave him a full body massage--even more so if you threw in a happy ending. ;))

Pegging

Bruno's into being pegged, but he feels a bit of disgust himself for thinking that it's hot.

Part of the reason he wants to try it is because of the submissive aspect. When you have "control" over him, you don't usually truly have total control since he could easily take it back from you. (Unless you have a way to prevent him from using his ability—thank you, Sticky Fingers.) However, it isn't as easy to get away from being pegged, and part of that makes him a tiny bit nervous to try it, given that he doesn't usually like it when he has no control over a situation.

However, his more prominent hang-up is the fact that he hasn't had someone tell him it's okay to have these sexual thoughts, and he feels conflicted about his desire to try what he lies. Of course, he believes people can do what they want with their bodies, but he feels like he needs to hold himself to a different standard.

Also, his disgust towards pegging has nothing to do with him being a man and taking something up the ass--it's more so because it's his ass... he's a hygienic man, and it feels wrong.

I don’t know if these next ones fall under a kink, but here are a few other things I believe he’s into:

Tasting you

Bruno loves dragging his tongue across your skin--tasting your arousal through your sweat (or arousal fluids) is one of his biggest turn-ons. (Come on, he tastes sweat as a part of his job. Of course, he's going to be into this. And let me clarify something: licking others in general to run his lie-detection test isn't something he's into--I’m specifically talking about being into tasting the arousal of his partner.)

A fun game he makes out of this involves his lie-detecting ability--he'll ask embarrassing things that would be hard to answer truthfully, and if you get caught lying, you get disciplined. ;)

ORAL!!!!!

Bruno is extremely into oral and especially loves receiving blowjobs--he never lasts long at the sight of your pretty mouth around his cock. He also loves giving but feels guilty that he enjoys receiving slightly more.

He also loves the sensation of getting his fingers sucked on--it gives you a chance to show off what you can do ;)

Mutual Masturbation Phone Sex

He especially enjoys it when he has control over your masturbation, such as telling you how to touch yourself and when. It's having that control over you that really gets him.

And that’s my comprehensive list of his kinks!!! There may be some stuff I've missed, so I'm curious what you guys think! Anything else he’s into?

[copias-sewer-rat]

IN HIS IMAGE [SECONDO x f!reader] - CHAPTER II

Secondo is absent and you deeply miss him, what antics will you too come up with to make the separation a bit more tolerable?

Welcome to the 1% plot of this fic. I wanted to try something fantastical/ritualistic for this one, hope you don’t mind.

tw/tags: smut, +18 warning, established relationship, m/f relationship, phone sex, dirty talk, use of sex toys, satanic ritual mention, mention of dagger, semi public sex (kinda?), dom!Secondo, possesive Secondo, p in v action, cowboy. 3.7K words

Read also on Ao3 | My masterlist

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————

You feel fucking lonely.

Secondo had left for a business trip, for a week! How dared he? Didn’t he know how much you love him? How much you miss him? It is only Wednesday, he is supposed to come back on Sunday. You cannot take it anymore, wearing his clothes, chatting with him, looking at his pictures, everything makes you even sadder and you are at your limit.

There is something you could do, something to quiet the ache existing between your legs (and in your heart, but right now your pussy is winning the battle against your heart). A few weeks back you had acquired a dildo with the form of your lover’s shaft… However, the thought of using it alone felt almost sacrilegious… good thing then that you were a Satanist. Good fucking thing…

————

A month earlier…

The altar was dimly lit with a few black candles and the light of the full moon hovering over the chapel. Secondo stood there, atop of the set of stairs, preparing the altar. A beautiful ornate dagger in his hands, a simple dark green robe covering his body, the same one you were wearing. It was cold but somehow you could feel Secondo’s body heat reaching to you from the considerable distance that separated you both. The Olde one must have been present, must have known how much you long for each other.

“It is ready, tesoro. Are you sure you want to do this?” You smiled at him, going up the stairs slowly, meticulously, without breaking eye contact. “I know what you said cara, but this bond is meant to last forever… Are you absolutely sure?”

You grabbed his face, careful to not smudge his paints, looking into his powerful gaze, his eyes full of love. After your first adventure with the dildo, you had opened up to Secondo. Everything that worried you about the relationship, all that you felt and still feel about him: pure and unconditional love, but also anguish. Feeling like only a side plate, just a peaceful place for him to return to and nothing more. Secondo’s gaze softened when you had told him. Guilt wasn’t an emotion that he was used to feel, but when it comes to you… He felt guilty for not noticing it, for neglecting that side of your relationship for so long. After that, the laid his true feelings for you bare, raw, passionate. He also loved you deeply, fervently, eternally. He wanted to make everything official with you, it was not that he felt ashamed of being seen with you, he was afraid that the pressure, the title, the responsibilities and of himself. He feared that he would scared you off if he let you in completely. He knows better since then that you are there to stay, forever, no matter what.

“Caro, I love you, and I want to be with you always. I think that’s not too much to ask, is it?” You put your index finger over your closed lips, a mocking gesture of pondering. Secondo couldn’t avoid to laugh at your antics.

“I think that that is the most noble of reasons, tesoro…” He answered, grabbing your hand in his and pecking your lips. Before he could part you returned the kiss, a loving confirmation of your devotion. He closed his eyes and when you separated you were already looking at him when he opened them again.

“Yes, my love, I am sure…”

Without any other words he started to chant in perfect Latin, a prayer he had learned by heart so he could just focus on you, nothing else. He laid you on top of the altar, revealing your naked self to him and he did the same, taking his robe off and tossing it to the ground. Secondo took your hips, his face dimly lit by the candles, harsh shadows marking his features, his mouth still chanting in Latin something that you could not understand:

“Duo unum sunt.

Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire,

aeterne.”

He took you there, made love to you, so sweetly. The dagger came to play later, he made you drink from him and he drank from you. Then, he came inside of you and you came around him. Lustful union, eternal.

————

Present day…

You pick your phone, sending a quick message to your partner:

‘Caro, are you free to talk?’

‘Aren’t we talking?’

‘I mean like in a phone call!’

‘ah…’

‘What you mean ah?! Are you free or not?!’

‘I was just teasing tesoro… relax… what has gotten into you?’

‘Nothing… I just miss you…’

‘Oh, you sweet thing. Give me due minuti.’

‘Okay… thank you.’

You wait, so impatiently, and then you remember that you need to get it ready. Quickly you sprint towards your bedroom wardrobe and retrieve the object you long for: the dildo. It looks like the first day, big, wide, a bit fantastical but so unmistakably him. You want for Secondo to know how much you actually miss him, how deeply you want to feel him… all-the-time.

You rush back to your bed and take off your pajama pants, leaving you only dressed with one of Secondo’s old tees and your black lace panties, one of Secondo’s favorite pairs . The shirts are always too big for you, but you do not care. Secondo himself was known for being somewhat of a monster in terms of size (all the sizes). Being as tall as some of the tallest ghouls, buff and a bit tender, soft tum, perfect to lay your head against to take a nap, voluptuous man boobs and a firm butt and thighs. He is also very strong, like dead lifting strong. Even at his age he was able to carry you around using only one arm.

You began to picture it, Secondo lifting you up, slapping your ass like a raw piece of meat, whispering in your ear all the depravities he is going to do to you… You start to feel hot again, your nipples poking the cold fabric of the shirt and you take a whiff of it. It smells like expensive alcohol, mint and burnt wood… and of his sweat. You asked him to wear a couple of shirts before he left so you could wear them yourself. This particular one, an old Missfits tee, was one of his favorites (and yours too). Particularly, he had worn it right before he left, while exercising. You saw him lifting himself on the exercise bar that hangs on your bathroom door, wearing only a pair of boxers, which absolutely let on the fact that he was hard all the time while exercising, and that tee… let’s say that the boxers didn’t stay on for far too long after that.

The memory is enough to get you soaking wet. You are about to act on your desires when suddenly the phone rings. You groan, but then you remember who is going to be at the other way of the phone call.

“Hello handsome…” You say, trying to sound seductive, but it sounds more needy than anything.

“Buonasera cuore mio… Is there anything wrong?”

“Yes… a lot of things actually, but first… are you alone?” You ask, a playful grin adorning your lips.

“Si… I had to excuse myself on behalf of a very urgent phone call… They told me I could use a private office to do so…”

“Good… the matter is very urgent indeed.”

“What is it tesoro? Are you hurt?” Secondo asks and you have to use all the will power in you to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I am caro, very hurt. My feelings are hurt, I miss you so much I cannot sleep, I want you to hold me close, I want to feel you everywhere, to make me yours again…” There is a long pause… you can only hear Secondo’s deep breaths, not in an exasperated manner, but in a trying to control himself way.

“Tesoro… we had a very long goodbye session to avoid these kinds of issues, remember?” You blush at the memory.

“Well… yes…” you answer, trying to sound hurt “it is your fault thatI need you all the time…”

“Maybe it is…” Secondo agrees with a thinking tone. “Do you have any idea that might lessen your pain tesoro?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” He hums, trying to control himself, but you can hear his elaborate breathing through the speaker. “I have remembered that there is something here with me that can help me… maybe you could guide me with it?”

“Oh, glorioso Satana. Do you have it with you now?”

“I do.”

“Bene…”

“What should I do first Papa?” You ask, sounding so submissive, so ready for him.

“Fucking- first you should take off your pants dear…”

“Already done sweetie. I am wearing nothing but your shirt and my lacy black panties.” You hear a deep groan at the other side of the call.

“Tesoro, you know how much I love those… and you are wearing my shirt… holy fuck you must look so fucking perfetta… so sinful, so tempting, la mia mela…” The tone is sultry, slow, sensual… how bad you wish you had him in front of you. His breath slows down, it sounds heavy, it even feels heavy. It is wet, needy, full of lust and you can only swoon.

“More caro, tell me more… what next?” You ask, biting your lip.

“Mmmm, remove your panties for me you sweet thing, slowly… leave the shirt on, I want it back smelling of you, of your arousal…” It is inevitable, the moan that escapes you and you want him to hear it so badly. You do as he says, the wetness in you getting hit by how cold the air of the room feels. The contrast makes you shiver slightly, but it only feels uncomfortable for a moment.

“It is done, I am bare now but for your shirt.”

“Fuck… give me a moment dear…” The sound of fabric rustling does not escape you, neither does the sound of the zipper going down. He must be getting his cock out of the confinement of his pants.

“What are you doing caro?” You ask knowingly, trying to hold a giggle.

“I am letting my fucking cock free so I can fuck you like you deserve my sweet…” You blush, deeply. “Nothing else but my cock can fuck you, only me… only my cock.”

“Yes Papa…” You agree and he groans. He must have done something, how badly you wish you could see him. However, the intrigue… it fuels your imagination to no end. In your mind he is in front of your, sitting comfortably on the armchair at the other corner of the room, guiding you, stroking his cock, groaning in pleasure, telling you how good you are fucking his cock.

You are waiting for something, a word, a command. Secondo is taking his time, teasing you. He knows how imaginative you are and he is letting you suffer. That fucker…

“Caro, please… What should I do now?” You whine and Secondo chuckles deeply. He is pleasuring himself, you imagine and you almost want to do the same yourself, fuck his orders, you want to fuck him so badly it is eating you from the inside.

“Così poca pazienza… Va bene, spit on your hand and stroke my cock with it dear, I need it nice and wet for you…” You do, slowly but surely you coat his entire member with your spit. It feels a little weird doing this to a dildo, but then you hear Secondo’s soft moans and you know the ritual is indeed working. The dildo is even emiting some sort of bluish glow and then you know. He is before you, you are stroking his real cock and it feels so warm.

“Brava ragazza, I can fucking feel you, your hand… is that weird?” He asks and your breath fastens.

“I can feel you, my love. Your dick, it is so big… fuck…”

“Cazzo, tesoro… I am going to fuck you… so much, so good, so perfect per me…”

“Please, Secondo, please fuck me already. Don’t tease me any longer.”

“Such a beggar, so needy for my cock… Sit on it my sweet, and let me hear you.”

You oblige once again, grabbing the toy. Sitting on your knees, you lift yourself up a bit and place the dildo right bellow you and descend slowly until you fill it rubbing your entrance. It is difficult, but you manage to sink on it with only one hand, the other one busy holding your phone, a very desperate Secondo breathing your moans through the machine.

“Fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck, so big…”

“Ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero…” He says as you slowly as you continue your descend, Secondo’s form stretching you. Suddenly, it is filling you entirely and you gasp. You know your knees will be hurting in the morning, but you don’t give a shit. What matters is that he is inside of you, you can feel him, pulsating inside, a faint glow coming for your wet entrance. The ritual did indeed fucking work.

“What are you doing now tesoro?”

“I am seating on you cock, gosh, it is so big, so perfect. The perfect fit.”

“Fuck… move up and down for me bella and let me hear how wet you are against my cock…” You do as he says and put the phone on speaker, placing it on the bed next to where the action is happening. You lift yourself slowly and then go back down with force, gasping for air once again once you make it all the way down again. “Dammit, that sounded so fucking wet, and I can feel it, your pussy, so tight… Is it all in?” Secondo asks almost without breath.

“It… it is, my love, you feel so good… I have missed you so much…”

“Tesoro, I have missed you so much as well… cazzo.” You wish you could see him right now, he must be so fucking hard.

“What are you doing, caro?”

“I am fucking deep inside of you, that’s what… And I am going to let you ride me, baby. Can you do that for me?” No words leave your lips, just a simple hum of confirmation. “Brava. Lean over and place your hands on the mattress, imagine it is my pecs.”

“Yeah… dear Satan bellow…” You moan, as you feel the dildo move slightly out of you, granting some relief.

“Very good, that’s it. Now rise your hips slowly.” You do as he says and the dildo slowly gets further from your core. “Now start with a rhythmic motion, circular, up and down, take whatever you need from me my dear…”

You are too lost to do anything else, Secondo’s voice feeling like master guiding every move of a puppet. You go up and down, feeling his actual heat, his twitching, his very form. Your hands even if they are on top of the mattress do not feel the soft sheets, but a pair of hairy pecks, hard and voluptuous.

“Caro, ah- where are you?” You ask, trying to fuel your mental image of him.

“I- I am on top of a desk, laying up, shit- I can feel you on top of me tesoro… can you feel me too?”

“I fucking can Secondo, holy shit… You are right here with me- ah- fuck- so good…” You moan, when you feel a pair of hands grabbing your thighs. “Fuck me! FUCK! Secondo I need to go faster… can I go faster? Please-ah?” The plead escaping you with the remnants of your breath.

“Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me… yes, my love, go fucking faster.”

You pick up the pace, the circular motions long forgotten, you are just going up and down and you swear that there is a noise of flesh hitting flesh in the room. You wonder if Secondo can hear it too. The wetness inside is out of this world. You have learned by heart how Secondo feels, his muscles, his body hair, his mouth finding all the spots that make you wild, his cock… How he parts your folds with it with such ease, how he thrusts into you like you were about to disappear, trying to keep you by his side with each slam of his hips. This is something else, the ritual must have enhanced your lust, your core is already tight, you are holding for dear life. In this position it feels like he is impaling you, the erect member between your legs like a sword thrusting to hit the exact spot that will make you cry of pleasure.

There is no sound for a moment, just muffled hums, praises and curses filled with lust. You feel like you are abandoning your body, going to a plane above this one, the ecstasies filling every inch of your body with every movement of your hips.

“Tesoro, I need to see you, per favore-ah-cazzo. You are taking me so well, I need to see your tits fucking bouncing in front of me. I need to see your face while you cum around my fucking cock ah-ah- I know you are close, I can feel it, so deep inside, it is making me go wild, tesoro.” As best as you can, you video call him, placing your phone on the pillows in front of you, trying for your whole form to be visible for him. One ring, two, then he picks up.

Secondo looks like a beautiful mess. He has placed the phone on a chair facing the desk he is lying on. His dick bouncing with every movement you do, his chest covered by a black shirt that is a couple of buttons away from being completely open. A necklace of the Ghost project falling from his chest… You don’t see his papal robes so you assume he has discarded them somewhere in the room. Once he sees you, his t-shirt hugging your sides, your pussy meeting and letting his cock in and out with such ease, the dildo glistening with your juices and the small glow from the ritual… his mouth just hangs open in pleasure.

“Fucking shit, my love, la mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa…” You open your mouth to let out a silent scream while you observe Secondo raising his arm. His clothed finger finds your open mouth as it always does and you suck hungrily, your tongue twirling around the invisible digit. “Fuck I can feel your wet mouth around my finger, that fucking ritual… the best decision we have ever done.” You can only hum around his finger, bouncing like a happy rabbit. “Let me feel you more, you are doing so good for your Papa. I fucking love your tight pussy, your tits, your ass, so fucking ah- good.” He takes his finger from your mouth and aligns it alongside his other one to where your tits are supposed to be. He looks at you, tears wheeling in your eyes, lost in divine pleasure and he goes for it, testing the reach of the lust ritual.

He grabs your tits with force, an once again faint glow meeting his touch, his thumbs caressing your hardened nipples under your shirt. Fuck, you can feel him under your shirt. Secondo manhandles your tits expertly and you just lean back a bit, throwing your hands from his pecs to his thighs, digging your nails into them.

“Fuck Secondo, fuck, I am going to cum, I- fuck, fuck, fuck me- ah, I am going to cum, I- I-” You scream, the tightening in your abdomen getting more and more desperate by the second, you have been holding it for a while, waiting for Secondo to get there as well.

“Cazzo, tesoro, come together with me, feel my seed inside of you, let me fill you up, my precious little thing…”

With a couple of more thrusts you explode, the walls of your pussy contracting around the toy and also Secondo’s cock. Through your phone you can see it, his cock getting milked, your invisible walls clenching his member into blissful release, the glow around his member shinning brightly while you cum. He does as well, shooting ropes into you, and you can feel them, his hot seed filling you up. Not only that, you can see it. Through tearful eyes you see his release hitting your walls and falling into his balls and him legs. His teeth are clenched and his hands are grabbing your tits with even more force, trying to get the most pleasure out of the moment. He is so far gone that he even draws a bit of blood from his lips.

Everything feels otherworldly, the light in the room like halos, the glow from the places you are touching each other slowly fading, your shared breaths filling your ears and you suddenly collapse on the bed, as many times before. With the motion the dildo gets out from you and Secondo gasps.

The t-shirt is wet with your sweat, but it still smells like him, you sniff as you hum contently. Secondo composes himself quickly and grabs the phone. He sees you laying on the bed, a blissful smile adorning your face, your eyes closed with exhaustion and he smiles back.

“Tesoro…” he whispers “are you ok?” You just nod slightly. “You need to clean yourself my dear…” You shake your head. “My love… I need to go, please know that I love you and… I cannot wait to see you again…”

“I- I love- you…too” the phrase comes alongside a yawn, your eyes still closed, they feel too heavy, as if every bit of energy had been taken from you.

Secondo ends the call, gets himself to look decent and parts from the office room. Of course, his mind is already rummaging on what to do to you next with this newfound power of lust.

----

Italian /Latintranslations:

la mia mela: my own apple

così poca pazienza… va bene: such little patience… ok

brava ragazza: good girl

per me: for me

ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero: that’s it, my dear you are doing so well, take me whole.

Duo unum sunt. Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire, aeterne: Two become one. Lord Satan bellow be witness of this love, eternal.

Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me: Sinful woman, fuck, go faster for me

La mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa: My perfect dove, love of my life, you look so fucking perfect, so needy, so lustful.

----

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[aspiring-artist-em]

Crimson Rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back?

So, like a normal, sane reader, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little tiny brain filled with angst and smut, I was thinking that it was maybe a chapter being updated, or maybe someone I love replying to a comment I left about how their writing is so fantastic and giving them vivid descriptions of how I wish to burn it into my brain because how good it is. Turns out, that was not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics I was dying to read were back. All the fics that had me frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and oh my god-

They were back.

All of them. 

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was fucking psyched because I have an AO3 account and I have access to it again. Me, along with many other fans of his works and readers in this fandom, texted friends and loved ones. We smiled and downloaded the files, swearing that we will never lose those works again. 

___

So, like a normal, sane author, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little pea brain filled with ways to torture my readers and ways to get them off through my words, I was thinking that maybe someone had kindly left a kudos on my work, or maybe even comment on it. All my works are ongoing and to be honest, I was a little scared to open my email because what if it's a negative comment? What if it’s someone telling me that they hate me because I’m sick and twisted, writing the filth I do. What if it’s someone telling me that they hate how I made a certain character bisexual because in their mind, bisexual women can't also be attracted to women? What if it’s someone telling me that the trauma I write about is misrepresented and that I am an awful person for romanticizing it when I swear I’m not, when I know that I’m drawing from experience. What if it’s someone saying the aforementioned trauma is too dramatized, and that the way that I write it as something to be worked through, doesn’t fit their “one kiss and all the bad memories go away” narrative they have in their head. What if it’s someone telling me I should be ashamed, telling me that I am disgusting, telling me that I shouldn't write what I write even though I have hyperlinks embedded in my fics and even though I have additional warnings per chapter and even though I have so many tags the plot is given away. Turns out, that is not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics people were dying to read were back. All the fics that had people online frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and

oh my god-

They were back.

All of them.

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was filled with fucking dread, because all I could focus on is how there’s a shiny new prongsfoot fic right there on the top of their page, the first thing people will see. All I could think about is how they talked about people not respecting their wishes with their fics  and how people on the internet are fucking relentless. All I could think about are the videos I will see with people complaining that they can’t read it because they don't have an AO3 account and people attacking them for the two chapter prongsfoot fic right there, and how people fucking idolized the guy, putting him on a pedestal and hailing him as the “best fanfic writer ever, right there along with misskingbean (who may or may not be Taylor swift (I swear, Taylor is NOT misskingbean))”All I could think about is the exit he, and MANY OTHER authors made because people got ahold of their work and were fucking rude about it. All I could think of is someone who was practically pushed off the internet for doing what he loves so well that people started hating when he wrote what he wanted to write, and how now, he’s back and honestly, it scares me a little bit because he didn’t deserve the hell people put him through.

___

Crimson rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back? Short answer, yes, yes, and yes. Long answer, yes but only if you have an AO3 account and ONLY IF people can be fucking nice this time around and maybe remember that zar is a fucking person with fucking feelings and something called a fucking mental health to take care of. Authors have feelings too, we aren’t some mindless fic generator. If you want that, go to chat gtp or some shit. We put our hearts and souls into our work and share it because we want to put it out there, not because we want to get bullied.

Now, I know what you're going to say, “oh, but I just really loved the guy, he was like the second coming of christ with his words like I just really wanted to read more because I loved him so much, like I forgot he was a human because I just loved him and a little love never hurt anyone.” 

But like, that’s also really fucking problematic and actually obsessive. Just think about it. Like this guy is a person and like, maybe you shouldn’t treat him like he is anything more OR ANYTHING LESS. Like honestly, he probably didn't start posting his work to gain fame, like this was probably really unexpected for him. AND EVEN IF HE DID, IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU GET TO TREAT HIM LIKE A FUCKING PRODUCT GOD DAMN. Like, this is a PERSON. Imagine if your best friend or little sibling came to you and was talking about people putting enormous pressure on them and being obsessed with everything they do and how they feel like they have to be perfect and please everyone because if they don't, they’ll get harassed online and like, it’s genuinely damaging their mental health. Like, imagine if that happened to you. What would you tell them? Well, hopefully, you would tell them that those people are fucking obsessed and that they need to take a break and maybe, just maybe remove the works so they could put their mind to rest, because that’s better than this. Like come on everyone, can’t you fucking see the problem with that? Idolization and bullying go hand in hand and the poor guy has been though enough. 

Also, remember, be kind to the guy and like, idk, treat him with fucking human decency? Don't deadname him maybe? Don't like, idolize him? Don't get mad when he writes what he wants to fucking write because you don't like it? And maybe like, respect his wishes? It should be pretty fucking simple tbh, but apparently it's a difficult task for some of you. He isn’t a fucking god and maybe like, before you comment, actually sit there and reflect on what you are going to say to him.

SO MAYBE, BEFORE YOU COMMENT SHIT, REMEMBER THAT ZAR’S, (and, for the record, every other author’s) MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A 800K WORD STORY ABOUT DEAD WIZARDS. LIKE PLEASE, YOU CAN FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT ONE SPECIFIC FIC WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER FICS OUT THERE, AND SO MAYBE LIKE, REMEMBER TO RESPECT THE AUTHORS WHO WRITE YOUR STORIES.

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, BEFORE YOU SAY SHIT, THINK ABOUT WHY HE FUCKING LEFT IN THE FIRST PLACE, DEAR GOD.

[thyras]

→ appreciation

PAIRING → mitth'raw'nuruodo | thrawn x f!reader

WORD COUNT → 1.9k words

WARNINGS → 18+ only MDNI - oral (fem receiving), postpartum depression, body dysmorphia, body worship

SUMMARY → Weeks after having your baby, you struggle with how your body has changed since pregnancy; Thrawn takes it into his own hands to help you feel more comfortable in your own body.

You turn from the mirror as your heart clenched, tears forming. It had been eight weeks since you gave birth to your son, and your body still looked like it had been through a war. Stretch marks snaked up the loose skin of your stomach; instantly, the tears flowed over as your fingers traced the marks. The deep valleys were a constant reminder of how you had failed.

You had always been so vigilant of your health, kept fit, and always ate well. This remained so even while you were pregnant; you constantly monitored your health to provide well for the little boy growing in you. You walked daily up and down the corridors of the Chimeara to keep up with your exercise regimen. Toward the end of your pregnancy, you did all the recommended stretches and exercises for easy labor.

But your body had failed you. 

And failed your husband.

The sobbing continued as a soft knock on the door separated the refresher, and your quarters startled you, causing you to scramble to put your shirt back on and collect yourself.

“Ch’acah?” the melodious voice asked from the other side. You wiped your tears away and turned away from the mirror.

“Yes, you can come in.” The door slid open, and your husband appeared. His crimson gaze was concerned, and his face worried. “Is he okay?” you asked, trying to get him not to be focused on your well-being for the moment.

“Yes,” Thrawn breathed as he took a step in. “He fell asleep the moment I laid him in the crib. Are you alright?” His brow raised. “I heard crying,”

“Yes, I am fine; it's just hormones.” You comment. Thrawn reached out to touch you, but you shied away from him, too ashamed to have such a man touch you. His face twisted into hurt the moment you moved away from him.

“This is not hormones, ch’acah; this is something else,” He paused and reached out to touch you again; this time, you allowed him to touch your upper arms. “Did someone say something? Did the doctor–” You waved your hand to tell him to stop his worrying before you moved to place your hand on his forearm. 

“No, it is more something wrong with myself.” You say lowly. “I wish to not worry you about this.” His fingers moved to cup your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his glowing gaze.

“Please tell me, this time is tough for both parents, but from what I’ve read, it seems to affect the mother more.” He paused and moved to cup your cheek. “So please enlighten me, my love, why have you been crying?”

You look into his gaze lovingly and sigh. He was everything you could have dreamed of, so why did you feel like this? Thrawn was a fantastic man, respectful, courteous, and so patient. He was not like other men you had dated; others had been judgemental and so concerned about their images that you had developed a consciousness for how you presented yourself while in public that drew out the deepest insecurities into your mind. 

On the other hand, Thrawn had tried for many years to help you feel confident in your skin even if you did not feel that way. He showered you with compliments and adornments for the simplest things. Things others would chastise you for.

You swallowed hard. “I’m worried you think I look,” your throat worked as the word struggled to come out of your lips. Your eyes begin flowing over again before looking down at your feet. “Damaged.” 

Thrawn was silent momentarily, then picked your face up to look him in the eyes. A fire in those crimson eyes made you melt at any given moment, but at this moment, it was the mere mention of the word angering him you knew.

“Who told you that?” he growled out, his grip on your chin tightening. The tears still flowed. “Tell me who disgraced you so I may rectify the situation.”

“No one,” You choked out. “I just feel like I failed you.” you breathed through the tears.

“And why on earth do you feel that way?” His glowing gaze softened as he moved to caress your soft cheek. You sighed, and the tears subsided slightly as your mind struggled to combine all the thoughts running through your head. Maker! This was your husband. He would understand better than anyone; why did you hesitate to tell him?

“I do not look like how I did when we first met; I have dark circles, saggy skin, and stretch marks deeper than the canyons of Tatooine.” You feel the sobs starting again. “I should have taken better care of myself, watched what I ate more, maybe even not started breastfeeding,” A smile rose on Thrawn’s lips as you looked up at him. His brow raised.

“I respectfully disagree, ch’acah,” he began. His thumb moved to wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “You are even more beautiful than when I met you; you grew our son there.” His hand moved to run across your stomach, fanning out to cup the bump in your shirt still. “Molded him and made him in our image. You sacrificed everything to bring him into this world, and,” he moved to push some of your hair behind your ear, opening up your face to him. “In my humble opinion, it made you even more beautiful and desirable to me.” You felt your face warm considerably as his arms wrapped around you and brought you into his chest, encasing you in his warmer embrace. His head lowered, and his warm, soft lips met yours, bringing the tears and sobs to a silence. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you felt the love pouring into this kiss. 

You were the luckiest woman in the galaxy, and Thrawn reminded you of that every moment he got.

Thrawn deepened the kiss as his fingers traveled down your back until he got to your bottom, where he gripped and hoisted you into the air. You wrapped your legs around his hips as your arms wrapped around his neck.

He turned and carried you from the refresher toward the warm, inviting bed where he laid you back—only releasing his lips from yours for you to let out a little giggle from your lips.

His lips move down the column of your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as his hand ran underneath the oversized shirt. “Undress for me,” he breathed. You grip the end of the shirt and pull it over your head, revealing your post-partum body to your adoring husband. “So I may see my sweet wife in all her glory,” Your face warmed again as his lips moved down your chest, over your engorged breasts—a hiss living your lips as he touched the sensitive skin of your nipples, traveling down toward the planes and valleys of your stomach. His lips worshipped every inch of the scared skin there. 

Your core turned as his hand traveled down in synchronous with his lips, his touch against your needy core bringing a heavy moan from your lips. “Let me show you just how beautiful you are, cheo been’i.” You nod as his index finger makes a pass through your folds, your brain whiting out as you feel the sensitivity building. The ache to be filled by the man who gave you a new life and all the comforts that you could only dream of. “You gave me the greatest gift any man could ever want,” 

Thrawn pulled his finger away from your folds and moved to grip your thighs tightly, spreading your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he moved to kneel there. Those crimson eyes blazing as he took you in, a predatory smile filling his lips as he showed you those inhuman pearly whites. 

You swallowed hard. “I know it is still too early for you to take me fully and comfortably. Will this fulfill your desire, my love?” The power in his gaze drew you to bite down on your lip hard as you gazed at your adoring husband.

“Yes,” you let out, labored as he gripped down on your thighs a little tighter. The sheer grip was almost too much to bear as your arousal built inside your core. You fought the urge to raise your hips to his lips so those beautiful, talented lips could take you to another plane of existence. 

But you knew if you did that, he would probably scold you for being too impatient and give you a hurt look because you did not want to let him bestow you with the adornments that you felt like you did not deserve.

“Patience,” he breathed, leaning down to your thigh. His teeth grazed against the skin there, and you felt the muscle tense at the sheer sharpness of his teeth against the skin. “I wish to add to the beautiful artwork on your skin, ch’acah; I wish to leave my marks.”

You take in a sharp breath as you feel his teeth sink into your skin; the pain is instant but turns into pleasure as his teeth sink into the flesh. He was serious about this, and you could do nothing but moan against the sheer sensitivity of the bite. 

“Thrawn,” you whimpered as he released you and now turned to make his way towards your swollen folds. Your arousal caused his nostrils to flare as he took it in.

“Easy, cheo been’i,” he breathed at just the entrance of your swollen lips. “Easy,” His lips hovered for a moment more, and you fought the urge to look down at him to ensure he was still there. That was until you felt his lips connect with your core and begin the tantalizing pace that made your toes curl.

Thrawn’s pace was slow and building as his tongue danced inside of you, his finger moving to rub against your sensitive bud, drawing you into heavy moans and whimpers as your thighs tightened around his head. Your legs draped over his shoulders as your fingers moved to run through his cobalt strands, gripping down tightly as he picked up pace. The action draws a purr from his lips and causes a vibration to rip through your sensitive core.

Your core swelled as his finger on your bud quickened, and the pace grew as you felt your release pooling there. The swells and swallows of it built more as your fingers tightened in his hair, your thighs holding him there, not caring if he needed to come up for air, just that you wanted to feel the full effect of this release. 

The floodgates opened in one more twist of your bud, and the numbing sensation washed over your mind and traveled down to your toes. A heavy moan and call of his name told him you had reached your climax, and he squeezed your thigh as he felt the pulsing of your cunt and muscles, reminding you that he did need to breathe still.

You quickly released him from your tight grasp, and he came up gasping for air. A smile on his lips, though, he licked his lips, tasting your release on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed between your gaspings for air.

“It is okay, that informed me you enjoyed it,” he leaned down to kiss your thigh softly. “And I’m glad you did. Do you feel better?” You take a moment to think about your answer, and a sly smile fills your lips when you get the answer to his question.

“I may be persuaded with more incentive,” A dark smile filled his lips as his eyes grew in a bright gleam.

“Then your wish is my command, my lady,”

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting tips the thrilling continuation

I am a dedicated thrifter and I have done a few thrifting tips posts, things to look for, how to find the best stuff. I had an excellent day thrifting today and decided it was a good day to polish up a draft I had and post it. So read more for tips to get the goodies.

If you buy fairly plain wooden furniture, it doesn’t take a whole lot of expertise to refinish it. You can get a cheap palm sander for less than 50 bucks, and a small tin of furniture wax goes a long, long, loooong way. Or you can get Danish oil if you want a satin finish or Teak oil for a gloss finish. Don’t let Youtube videos make you believe you have to test out 10 zillion different coloured stains unless you are aiming for a very specific look. Just make sure you slap something nourishing on the wood after you’ve sanded it. Also remember that whatever product you use; multiple light coats will come out better than one thick coat. There’s a huge amount of satisfaction in looking at a gorgeous chunk of wood you’ve bought back to life.

French milled/triple milled soap. Old ladies like to give soap as gifts and people tend to stick it in their drawer to scent their clothes and never actually use it, eventually they have a clean out and this unused soap goes to the thrift store still in it’s original paper wrapping. This soap is expensive. This soap is fantastic. The milling process creates a very different product than the bars you get at the supermarket. It doesn’t go goopy and melty even if you leave it sitting in a puddle in your shower, it’s not as drying to your skin, the scent stays on your skin for longer. These bars last for months, it’s well worth picking them up if you like the scent.

Blue Willow. Would you like to have a nice set of china but don’t want to drop a lot of money on something that might look dated in 10 years? Collect blue willow from thrift stores. Blue willow has been around for hundreds of years and it’s going to be around for hundreds more. It can be slotted in to almost any home style, classical, boho, maximalist, scandi, etc, etc. Because it’s been around for so long pretty much every manufacturer has done it, so you find it really often at thrift stores and it’s easy to pick up a couple of plates here and a serving bowl there. Also, because so many companies have done it over such a long period it’s possible to pick up modern dishwasher safe dinner plates that you can use alongside a lovely 100-year-old antique gravy boat.

Gifts. Never feel ashamed of buying gifts from thrift stores. The perfect vintage item is way more meaningful than any amount of new stuff. And if you’re buying for someone who doesn’t like vintage; if something looks new and undamaged how is the recipient going to know that it’s not new?

Get yourself a thrifting routine. You’re gonna find the best stuff if you go often so don’t just randomly go every now and then. People who say they never find anything are the ones who only call into a thrift store every couple of months and expect something amazing to just drop into their lap. Set a day once a week, or every other week or once a month, but make a commitment to go on a regular basis.

If you see something that you think you like but you’re not 100% sure, as long as you can afford it and have a place for it, get the thing. Take it home, live with it. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t really like it and take it back to the thrift store and consider the price you paid a charitable donation. But sometimes you bring something home that you kinda like and end up absolutely loving it. Some of my favourite things in my house are things I wasn’t completely sure about when I was in the thrift store. There’s nothing worse than the regret of leaving something behind because you weren’t sure about it, then deciding actually I do want that thing, but it’s gone, and you’ll never find another quite like it.

If possible, go with someone who knows your likes/tastes. It’s amazing the number of times I’ve been in a thrift store with my mother or best friend, and they’ve found something I love that I hadn’t even noticed. Plus they’ll be dirty rotten enablers and encourage you to buy the thing that you love but you’re not sure you can justify to yourself.

There are a bunch of Youtubers who do thrift flips. If there’s some décor item that’s in all the stores at the moment and you love it, but can’t justify spending money on it, then it might be worth looking up to see if anyone has done a thrift flip and can give you a tutorial on how to turn a thrifted item into the hot décor items of your dreams.

Keep the cycle going. If you have stuff in your home that you no longer use/love, then donate it. If you’ve traded up and found something better but your original thing still has life in it, donate. Even if you originally bought something from a thrift store no one is gonna be mad if you send it right on back (unless you’ve used it to death, and it really should be heading for landfill).

Don’t put yourself in a box. Don’t refuse to get something because it’s not ‘your style’. What is ‘your style’? Things that you love, that make you happy. Do you love this thing? Does it make you smile? Then it’s your style. Honestly style is something that evolves organically, that grows and expands as we’re exposed to new things. If you try to follow a certain style rigidly then you’ll end up with a home that looks boring and cookie-cutter. Throw in something unexpected that speaks to you. Then throw in another of those things and another and another and pretty soon you’ll end up with a home that actually is your style – maybe you just don’t know what your style really is yet. I think of myself as very confident in my style, but I’m constantly stumbling across new things that I didn’t know I needed in my life.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Hey pooks could you recommend some Argon fanfics?? 🤍

absolutely! where do I even begin?! I will link the masterlists of each author I recommend xx

@sunfyresrider has AMAZING Aegon fics with her blessed TALENT, one of my all time faves is >>> "Obsession" (one-shot), "Midnight Lust" (one-shot) + her "Love & Ruin" series. both here.

@ilikeitbetterangsty another fantastic author in her own right, anything Aegon coded (or anyone else really) she nails it. some of my ultimate fave pieces include >>>> "Don't Wait for Me (I can't come)" [two-part series], "Cause I am a goddess (make you a promise)" [two-part series], break some bread (for all my sins) ++++ and just so much more. here are the links!

@arcielee also is a magnificent writer, like her writing is perfection. she's got these wonderful fics on "modern!Aeg" that just warms my heart, one of the cosiest fics include "Sleeping In". Also some fics that'll have you flustered af include "Pay No Mind" and "Date with the Night", all + more masterpieces can be found here.

@fan-goddess phenomenal writer, her fics will get you hot and heacy QUICK. some of my favourite pieces include "Early Riser" and her "Sugar!Daddy Aeg AU" has me in an actual chokehold, you'll be craving for more! here are all the links.

@f4ll-for-you talent beyond words, you just need to read the fics for themselves.... like, I am always left speechless. my favourites include "My Favourite Kind of Breakfast", "Unexpected" and "Don't Look Back in Anger" especially if you're up for some angst!!! I highly recommend reading thru the masterlist!

@amiraisgoingthruit Lord the grip that Mira's "Moments Before the Disaster" fic has on me, I am patiently waiting for the second part, is unimaginable!! I have yet to read the "Speak Now" series, but I am certain the writing will not cease to amaze me! here you can find the incredible works.

@sylas-the-grim Ezran's work I have only just recently began to read (I KNOW I AM ASHAMED), and I am already HOOKED!!! the power, the sheer talent, the gift, I can't! The "soft, smutty headcanons" are everything and more, and I have yet to binge read more!!!

@jacevelaryonswife is also a lovely, talented writer, who has a few lovely pieces for Aegon, such as "You set my soul alight" and even some naughty NSFW headcanons "How is he in sex?", you will NOT regret!!! check out her fics!

@valeskafics LAST BUT NOT LEAST my beautiful Bel, she will write almost (or probably already has) written every AU possibly imagined, we're just constantly spoiled by her immaculate writing. One of the first, beautiful fics I read was "Meet Cute" and I was even so blessed as to have my own request fulfilled and it was above and beyond what I imagined, called "Whatever Your King Desires". I have more to read, as like I said, we're constantly spoiled silly by Bel (forever grateful)!!!!

there are SOOOO many more incredible writers for Aegon, I apologies if I have missed anyone (I do not mean to) so please, just message me or comment and I'll continue to add to the list!! CAUSE EVEN I NEED MORE AEGON!

[hattiestgal]

Biggest art inspirations and was there anything in particular that made you interested in fatfur stuff?

Oh gosh, biggest inspirations.... my brother is absolutely one of em! His work has always been fantastic, and it pushes me to improve, plus he's who introduced me to the furry scene in the first place! I am ABSOLUTELY influenced by the general sort of "anime-y" style, having grown up with a lot of miyazaki films (and Naruto, can't forget Naruto). Adding on to that, theres things like The Bad Guys movie, which in itself has an art style heavily inspired by Lupin III, ehehe. Gosh, plus there's a myriad of wonderfully talented friends whose art never fails to get me to strive to improve!

As for how I found my way into the fatfur scene, I guess I've just always been a sucker for bigger body types? Like- I grew up surrounded by fat and chubby folks my entire life, and it was never really treated as something you should feel ashamed about. In fact, these were folks who were confident and happy about who they were! It was a while later when I was really getting into the furry scene again that I sorta just found myself gravitating towards those shapes, y'know? Eventually, I ended up following a really fantastic artist (Corantus, who also inspires me!) that led me to a blog focusing on fat positivity, fatfur art, and a lovely collection of kink content, Elliegoose! From there, well, it was pretty much over for me, ehehe. I discovered Feybeasts (who REALLY got this ball rolling), and I sorta just found myself sinking deeper and deeper into this circle of lovely folks...

[glasskey]

THT True Love and Double Trouble Remix Part 1.

Over the next few mixes I’m going to talk about the embodiment of themes and concepts in character constructs, in particular for the participants of our infamous Handmaid’s Tale love triangle, Nick, June and Luke. I first wrote about Nick and June’s character concepts in Nick’s Playlist last year, but let’s face it ALL of these characters are intimately bound to one another and it’s finally time to talk about how and why. Welcome to the True Love & Double Trouble Remixes.

JUNE

In general when constructing a character for the purpose of telling a story, they’re written with themes and concepts in mind which form their history, motivation, journey and final destination. In Atwood’s text June is meant to represent the everyday woman, nameless, caught up in the whirlwind that is Gilead. She acts as an unreliable narrator, providing her unique perspective that seems simultaneously fantastical and horrifically true. She is propelled from a life of relative peace and tranquility into one of slavery and subjugation. Gilead’s expectations and restrictions are used throughout to not only contrast against our understanding of basic freedoms, but also highlight an existing undercurrent of societal gender bias in June’s pre Gilead life. She engages in acts of rebellion that give her a sense of freedom and ultimately launch her into unknown territory. In the series June transforms from someone who’s “not that kind of person” into Gilead’s worst nightmare….hope.

Those stolen from a free country and forced to live in slavery, still recall their liberty and therefore relentlessly seek it through constant acts of rebellion. A generation born into it however, may easily be taught to accept it as ordinary, as Aunt Lydia observes in S1; given time the abnormal will become the new normal. When June smuggles out a plane load of children, she steals Gilead’s ability to normalise its fascist ideals in the next generation. It gives those trapped in Gilead hope and in S4 and 5 we see Gilead’s relentless campaign to eliminate her, extinguishing her legend and therefore any ensuing acts of rebellion.

In S4 when Osborne is recaptured as a handmaid her notoriety and subsequent incarceration is used to create a loss of hope amongst the Handmaids. If June Osborne a handmaid of such repute can be bridled by Gilead, their power must be complete. By the same logic, once June Osborn escapes their grasp, her freedom cannot be tolerated. June represents the spirit of rebellion who along with Nick Blaine, gives birth to her countries future liberty; Holly. June reclaims her sexual freedom in the form of her relationship with Nick, but it’s not just sex, it’s the seeds of rebellion, liberty and love that are being sown here. Her bond with his character is a clear statement about her need to journey into deeper personal uncharted territory, in order to achieve freedom. It’s a message about the necessity of love to sustain us as human beings, the need for community and family, and how intimately these are tied to free will. As their relationship crystalizes his sense of freedom and her power grows.

“No one dies from lack of sex, it’s lack of love we die from”, “Grab love wherever you can find it” June states as her relationship with Nick deepens. The tenor of these statements and the recording to Luke “I am ashamed……..He helped me to survive” speak loudly of a sense of guilt that she has found love somewhere else, painting it as a matter of sheer survival. Despite this when June returns to Canada, Luke becomes increasingly aware that far from being merely a matter of necessity, this bond is actually something much, much more. He grows to understand that his wife’s view of him as a “complete” partner has been permanently changed and that he would actually never be enough for her. Luke epitomizes the country June left behind, a landscape she now finds alien and uncomfortably unfamiliar.

Instead of grieving acceptance, we see June’s growing desperation and distress that the daughter she conceived in a once free country is now slowly being swallowed by Gilead’s maw. In the S4 bridge scene, Nick assures her that Hannah still loves and remembers her but it’s debatable as to whether this is true, or she is much like her country slowly falling under Gilead’s spell. Throughout S4 and 5 there are several moments that Nick and Hannah are mentioned, together they represent the figurative “reward” June will receive once Gilead is defeated. Lawrence flaunts Nick in an attempt to have June submit to Gilead but it’s nothing but Fools gold, for neither of them will be truly free.

June is like a barometer, an indicator of the shifting winds of change. While she stays in Canada with Luke, the spirit of rebellion lies dormant, like the gun she buries in the snow. Lawrence observes that she is “losing her edge”, meanwhile Gilead grows in strength and the people she left behind are bent to its will. We see Hannah begin schooling to be a wife, Janine demonstrating a new level of compliance and Nick is swallowed by his surrounding influences, “groomed” by Lawrence to become a dutiful and brutal fledgling commander. These characters say a great deal about Gilead’s power structures. Hannah represents a new generation of believers, Janine; the walking manifestation of all the horrors Gilead visits on the Handmaids. Nick represents the next generation of the power structure, its ability to exercise will and force, he’s “a puppy” in training.

As June breaks her bond with Luke and Canada, we see these influence of Gilead’s power begin to crumble. Hannah remembers her name and writes it down. Nick rejects his allegiance to Gilead completely, sacrificing everything for those he loves. And Janine refuses to comply with Aunt Lydia’s demands no matter what the cost. June’s relationship with both Luke and Nick are designed to signify two separate states of grace (passivity or rebellion) and as the season’s progress, and she develops her relationship with each counterpart, we see a distinct shift from one state to the other. The nature of the love she has for each is noticeably different too; her love for Nick is romantic, passionate and enduring, while Luke conjures feelings of devotion and commitment. Throughout S5 we watched June attempt to return to her “home” finding instead distant memories and simmering tension, which comes to a boil in ep10 as we hear her say “America wasn’t Gilead until it was. We have to run. Now.”

In Ep 10, Luke bids June farewell, finally acknowledging her autonomy in the form of her maiden name. It signified a breaking of this bond with her former life and a return to her original state of independence. S5 Ep 10 is the metaphorical Tabula Rasa for all of these characters. Everything they have attempted to build is rubble, their homes are gone and they have been scattered to the wind. June tells Holly on the train “we’re going to a beautiful island”, Hawaii the recurring elusive destination of idyllic safety. But she is shortly confronted by Serena, promptly reminding her that the ghost of Gilead will follow her, no matter where she runs to. As Nick so succinctly says “they’ll keep coming for her….”

Back soon with the second installment in our latest remix.