#i trust you. to make the right choice.“

[tangent101]

Okay. I was thinking about this... thus the reblog.

There was an increase in mail-in ballots among Republicans. This is despite the fact that Republicans consider mail-in ballots to be prone to fraud and should be outlawed. Now, Republicans are apt to be doing the very things they accuse Democrats of doing.

If a wife is at home when her husband brings in mail-in ballots and says "we're voting for Trump" then she has just had her vote stolen from her, along with her right to anonymity when she votes. And many of these women may feel concerned that they might be abused or abandoned by husbands if they said "I'm not doing this."

So. Before you look at 53% of white women voting for Trump... look twice. Because some of those women might not have had a choice in the matter. And this may expand in the future to companies bringing in mail-in ballots and forcing workers to fill them out right there while supervised or lose their job. If the worker squeals? They end up fired (or worse) and accused of making it up and other workers aren't going to complain, they know what will happen.

There is a solution for women under this situation: refuse by stating "people have been throwing out these ballots, I want my vote to actually count" and insist on going to the polls. These right wingers do not trust mail-in ballots. So they will succumb to conspiracy thought in the future.

55% of men voted for Trump.

So did 53% of white women.

Fewer than half as many black men voted for Trump compared to white women by percentage (21%). This isn’t even taking queerness into account, as 13% of queer folks overall voted for him. Do you expect trans men were voting red in droves, when they’re so heavily impacted by abortion and gender affirming care issues?

This is not a men vs. women issue. It’s about who is granted privilege and who isn’t. There are absolutely women in this country with more privileges than certain marginalized men.

Being a woman does not make you a safe person. Being a man does not make you an unsafe person. As a trans person of color I do not trust the average cis white woman more than the average cis white man. Lashing out at all men and only men for the outcome of this election does not solve any problems.

Source. If you have ones that break down votes by LGBT+ identity better I would be appreciative, as I couldn’t find any.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 10

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : Thank you so much for all the love you all are giving this series! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Give me Something I Want”

Wednesday.

In the days that followed Yelena’s ultimatum, Bucky felt a strange, quiet storm churning beneath the life he’d finally allowed himself. 

For the first time in years, he felt a sense of warmth, of peace—something he’d only dreamed about, something that had always felt out of reach. 

He had you. And he could feel the calmness like he hadn't felt before every time you looked at him, every time your hand slipped into his, every time you said his name with a kind of gentle joy he’d thought he’d never deserve.

Even after that little bicker on Monday night, you had found your rhythm again, choosing to trust him instead.

He’d spent so many nights alone, haunted by the weight of his own memories, terrified of what he was capable of, of who he had been. 

But you… you made him feel like he was worth saving. 

But even as he kissed your hair and let himself sink into the couch cushions, he could feel Yelena’s judgement hanging over him like a ghost. The truth clawed at him, the bitter memories whispering reminders of the damage it could do if found out, if you knew the version of him that had once pushed you away, that had built walls so high he didn’t know how to tear them down, could you still look at him with that same kind stare? Would you pull away, realising that you’d only seen a sliver of the man he’d been, that the rest was buried in regrets and choices he wasn’t proud of?

His mind flashed back to that moment with Yelena, her voice leaving him exposed, vulnerable. Her words echoed in his head, haunting him. 

But she didn’t understand— she couldn’t possibly. Because you now looked at him with love and adoration. He wasn’t ready to lose that, to lose you.

Thursday.

The next morning, he found himself watching you as you slept, the barest light tracing your features. His heart twisted in a strange, painful mix of love and fear. 

He would carry the burden of his past alone, if it meant he could keep the life he’d found in you. 

He kissed your forehead, his lips as light as a feather, making a silent promise to himself: he would protect you from the pieces of himself that might hurt you, no matter what it cost him. And if Yelena tried to break that fragile peace, he’d deal with her when the time came. But for now, he’d stay right here, holding onto this one thing that finally felt real.

As he lay beside you, he repeated it in his mind like a vow: She will never know.

Friday.  

The mission briefing room pulsed with red lights and bright screens, though everyone else seemed blind to it. 

Maybe you just weren’t used to it yet.

Around you, the team was busy with logistics, preoccupied with tactical details, terrain-view maps, and contingency plans. 

You felt Bucky shift beside you. He was always a watchful presence beside you, like a human shield. Across the table sat Sam, Clint, and Yelena, their expressions locked in concentration. Bucky, however, had hardly looked up. His gaze remained trained on the table, his fist clenched in a way that made the way that made your heart flip.

Sam lifted his eyes to meet yours. “You’re ready for this,” he said, his tone firm. “Your specialisation on ancient artefacts makes you the only one who can get close enough without setting off every alarm in the place.” He gestured to the screen, where a high-definition image of a weapon gleamed with an eerie allure—a golden blade encrusted in cryptic symbols, the metal gleaming as if alive, exuding a faint glow that seemed neither earthly nor entirely comprehensible to the human mind.

“Our intel says it’s magical,” Sam continued— he had consulted with Strange, and he didn't even seem too sure. “Or at the very least, powerful enough to be a real threat if it falls into the wrong hands. We need you to get in there, identify it, and secure it before anyone else does. Clint and Yelena will be on backup. They’ll be ready to extract you the second something goes wrong.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline flooding your veins— one you couldn't tie to a memory. This was the kind of mission you’d trained for, the kind that made you a candidate for the Avengers in the first place.

Then you felt it—a small but telling movement. Bucky’s hand had moved, his fingers curling tighter into a fist, the hum of machine coiling around his metal arm. A worry flashed in the back of his eyes that held the barely-contained force of a storm. His eyes were locked on the photograph of the weapon, his entire body straightening as if bracing against a blow.

He finally spoke. “No.”

The single word shattered the room. The others fell silent, every gaze snapping toward him, the low hum of conversation extinguished as if a candle had been snuffed out. His tone was final. 

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness he exuded.

What?

The single word spiked confusion, breaking through your focus. Bucky was rarely vocal when he was around the entire team— but  he was never like this. His expression was hard now, carved with an intensity that seemed almost primal, as though he could see the danger you’d face from a mile away.

Sam’s brows drew together. “What?” he started, his voice calm but tinged with caution. He had the terrain intel for you, every dip of the landscape, But Bucky’s objection was a territory none of them had mapped.

As you looked up, Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you now, as if he were silently urging you to see what he did—to feel the risk that he alone seemed to sense.

His jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth. When he finally met Sam’s demanding stare, there was a flicker of vulnerability, an urgency that softened his hard edges. 

“She’s not ready,” he said, in a rumble so low that a chill ran down your spine. “We haven’t covered everything yet. There’s more we need to work through.”

Clint leaned forward. The look on his face was half a challenge, half a curiosity. “Bucky, you were the first to tell us she’s ahead of schedule. Hand-to-hand, stealth—you said it yourself, she’s exceeded every target.” His voice was level, but a hint of irritation crept up his throat.

Sure, Clint might not have as much of a … hands on approach as Bucky did, but he oversaw your training, too.

And he knew you were ready,

Bucky shook his head. It was his human hand that flexed into a fist this time, the knuckles turning white. 

“I want more time,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “The mission should be postponed. That’s all I’m asking.”

Bucky radiator of the fear he was struggling to mask. 

“I trust your judgement, Bucky,” Sam’s arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowing. "But she’s proven that she’s capable. She’s kicking my sorry ass week in week out and you know she’s ready.”

“I just want more time,” He repeated in a rasp, his eyes darkening. 

Time. 

That was all he wanted. 

All he ever wanted with you.

More time, to fix every weak spot, to be sure you were shielded against every possible threat. More time to prepare you for the dangers you couldn’t yet see. More time to hold you in his arms before anything— this mission or Yelena— took you away from him.

But time was slipping away. 

Sam looked over at you, assessing, maybe even waiting to see what you thought. You’d been eerily quiet, a mixture of awe and nerves keeping you planted to your chair. This was your first mission briefing after getting back into training, after all. You hadn’t learned the cadence of these discussions yet, hadn’t learned the proper flow of conversation.

“One week wouldn't hurt,” you murmured, your voice steady, though a knot twisted in your chest. 

Bucky’s breath hitched as the words one week left your lips, echoing in his mind like a warning. The phrase cut through him, pulling him back to Yelena’s voice, low and sharp as she’d said it to him just days before: One week, Barnes. You have one week to tell her everything or I will.

He glanced across the table, his eyes landing on Yelena. Her stare was unrelenting, almost predatory. The corners of her mouth quivered in a faint, insincere smile, and her eyes locked onto his with a dark promise, a reminder of the ultimatum she had made—an ultimatum that only had two days left on the clock.

Bucky felt a dread gnawing at him, knowing that both clocks were now ticking down faster than he could stop it.

Sam glanced between the two of you. This time. His eyes were kinder, more understanding.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But only for a week. After that…” He gave a smile that reassured your confidence. “It’s yours.”

Relief surged through Bucky, though he buried it beneath a mask of calm indifference.

As the meeting wrapped up, everyone began to leave the room. As you stood to leave, you caught a look from Yelena, her face shadowed by a faint trace of sadness. She lingered by the door, though she said nothing. 

You looked down, an unexpected pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. You assumed that Yelena was disappointed in you, in delaying the mission.

You hadn’t meant to slow anyone down. You had trained relentlessly, preparing for a moment like this, but Bucky’s resistance had meant something to you. 

You had grown to trust him more than anyone in your fragile existence. If he said no, he must’ve had a reason.

—

When you were finally alone with Bucky back at your apartment, a tension thrummed between you. You turned to him, crossing your arms, unable to hold back the frustration and confusion threatening to bubble over. 

“I was ready for that mission,” you said. “I am ready.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. You could see the struggle in his eyes, a potion of protectiveness and love. “It’s… not that simple,” he replied reluctantly. His cheek ones flexed, and for a moment, he looked at you with a vulnerability that made you weak.

“Not that simple?” you echoed, pressing an explanation out of him. “I agreed to a week because you were worried, not because I thought I wasn’t ready. You’re always so… protective, but I need you to trust me.”

He nodded, his human hand reaching out to touch your arm, comforting himself through the contact. His thumb traced gentle circles. “I do,” He hesitated, the admission heavy on his tongue. “I need you here. Just… a little longer.”

The honesty in his words softened your frustration. His hand tightened on you, his voice dropping to a raw, vulnerable whisper. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

The words hit you hard, and for a moment, you stood there and shared his worries. You lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of stubble under your fingers, his eyes flickering closed.

“Bucky,” you whispered, gently pulling him closer. Your arms slid around his neck, and you felt him relax almost instantly. A quiet sigh slipped from his lips as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice soft as your lips brushed over his cheek. “But sooner or later, you’ll have to let go.”

Bucky’s metal arm slid around your waist, his forehead pressing gently against yours. He held you like he was memorising every detail, the sound of every breath you took. 

Then his mouth found yours in a kiss that carried everything he couldn’t put into words. His hands moved up your back, tracing slow, warm circles that left a trail of heat along your spine. You felt his fingers graze your skin, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch sending shivers through you as he pulled you closer, pressing you against the marble counter.

Each kiss, each touch, was a confession, an apology, a plea. Still, you felt the distance he kept, a part of himself he still couldn’t share.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested on yours. His breaths were uneven, his gaze heavy-lidded with something that looked awfully a lot like grief. 

“I will,” he promised, his voice growing thin. “I just need more time.”

You nodded, brushing your thumb along his cheek, meeting his gaze with warmth, understanding. “One week,” you whispered back, a soft smile lifting your lips. You leaned in, kissing him again, your touch lingering, giving him the reassurance he so desperately needed

When you said it, your voice was soft, filled with warmth and reassurance. But in his mind, the words twisted, dragging him back to the way Yelena had said them—sharp and unforgiving.

One week.

Your tone was gentle, a promise. Hers had been relentless and ruthless, a threat. He couldn’t shake it, the way she had cut into him, a grim countdown echoing in his mind no matter how hard he tried to focus on you.

You sighed, breathing in his scent, wondering what he was thinking about.

Could you really blame him? Of course he cared. Of course he was worried. 

The last time you’d been sent on a mission, you came back with four years of your life wiped clean, whole chapters of memory erased like pages torn from a book. 

You didn't voice it, but you often found yourself wondering about those lost fragments of your life, the memories that had slipped through your fingers. What were they? Who have you been? 

Bucky had never given you straight answers. All he ever said was that before all this, he was your friend. But there was something in his eyes that suggested more. 

You wondered sometimes,  if the two of you had been more than friends before… Had you been lovers, too, the way you were now?

It was easy to imagine it, the way his body curved so naturally onto yours.

But he wouldn’t tell you, and his reluctance left you with an aching sense of being incomplete. 

Sometimes you wondered if losing all that time hurt him more than it hurt you.

Maybe the thought of reliving them, of watching you live without the memories you both carefully curated together, hurt him too much. 

And even if Bucky were to tell you everything—the names of places you’d been, the details of nights spent together, the whispers you might have shared—it would still be just that: information. Facts without feelings. 

No context behind what you did and why you did it. 

In that moment, his body leaned into yours as if he could delay time, press pause, keep the world at bay for just a little longer. 

But deep down, he knew this was temporary. 

He knew Yelena wouldn’t wait forever. Two days, maybe less, and everything he feared would come crashing in.

Even if he managed to talk her out of it, he had a week until you had to go on the mission.

—

Later that night, Bucky sat in the dim glow of his phone, eyes fixed on the unsent message he’d typed to Yelena.  

Can we talk?

He was planning to convince her, to beg her if he had to, anything to stop her from telling you the truth. At the very least, he wanted her to hold off for a little longer.

He had an excuse now—the mission. The argument was already forming in his head. “She’s going on a mission in a week,” he’d tell her. “Do you really want her distracted by all of this?” 

It was a flimsy shield to hide behind, but maybe it would buy him time. Maybe he could just keep buying time.

Because for you, he’d pay anything.

With a weary sigh, he deleted the message. 

Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll talk to Yelena in person, face to face. Maybe if she saw how much this meant to him, she’d hold her silence a little longer. Maybe she’d understand.

But as Bucky’s screen went dark, your phone buzzed in the other room.

You glanced down at your phone, surprised to see a message from Happy:

Hey! Had my assistant compile all the security footage of you from the last three years at the compound. You’re welcome to come by and watch it whenever you’re ready.

-to be continued…

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[rin-solo]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

married life

tw: toxic relationship, abusive

you and your (not so) beloved michael kaiser finally decided to tie the knot. well, he decided, and you obliged. because what else are you supposed to do? you wouldn’t ever betray him, everything he wants is what you want too. he has you so well trained, doesn’t he? you went along with it because of how docile you are, how you’re basically putty in his hands. but you also had your own selfish reasoning, but you aren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet. no, you hoped that if you became his wife, maybe, just maybe, the tenderness he sometimes showed would be more common, the nosebleeds he bestowed upon you with his cruel fists would subside, the gentle nature he has somewhere inside of him would come out more often.

unfortunately for you, that’s not how michael kaiser works. and i think you know that too, don’t you? so why do you keep up the hope? you’re a true masochist, and he’s a true sadist. a very dangerous pair. dangerous for you, the one who subjects yourself to kaiser’s brutality willingly (it seems that way these days).

don’t get him wrong, kaiser yearns for love, yearns to be loved, yearns for you to keep on loving him ‘till the very end. and he knows you will, because you don’t have any other choice. michael kaiser is truly a master of his craft, a skilled manipulator and a very intelligent man. and now that you’re his wife, things really became a whole lot easier for him. he knows he has it drilled into your pretty little head that the only thing good for you in this world is him. him, him, him, him, him. pleasing him. loving him. being with him. being so sweet to him after he’s so mean to you.

he loves you and you love him. so why does the love he feels for his cute wife manifest in the most atrocious of ways? you know, he’s always making dumb excuses for why he’s this way. he thought if he was loved he would stop, then he thought if he got a girlfriend he would stop, then he thought that if he married you he would be able to stop too. he’s ran out of excuses now. he’s fucked up, all that psychology he’s polished up on throughout his life, all those books on human traumas and emotions, they should have made him realise what he really needs is the drive to change and a therapist a million times better than the average one. but he’s a little ignorant too, in that sense. or he was, he realises it sometimes, but he ignores it.

and besides, he’s not exactly one to complain about the arrangement you guys have. especially after marriage. you became so much more perfect, he didn’t even know it was possible. you’re the perfect, doting little housewife. and you’re all for him too, so cute, so docile. you like it too, but kaiser made you. you’re a little too stupid, a little too trusting and a lot too in love with kaiser to realise it. if you were just a little bit more intelligent than the girl he first met, he’s sure you would have realised something was seriously up by now. but it’s fine, ‘cause wits were never your strong point, nope, your sweet obedient nature was. and kaiser likes that.

you’re a great housewife. and he’s a great husband, you think. you’re in the kitchen, cleaning up, wearing a sweet little outfit kaiser bought for you. he’s so generous, he doesn’t have to spend money on you, yet he does. isn’t he just the best? so expensive too, he spends his hard earned money on you? isn’t your husband seriously just the best? you’re dressed in a cute vintage style dress, hair tied up into a cute ribbon and a cute pair of slippers and socks to go with it. haha, you don’t even realise it, but you’re playing right into kaiser’s weird fantasy. he always had a thing for housewives, everything. so now he has you dressed as one cleaning the kitchen whilst he’s hard at work. maybe he’s so obsessed with this dynamic because he never had it himself, his mother packed up and left as soon as he was born, of course. and his dad was an abusive sack of shit. fucking bitches. pieces of shit. ah, he’s getting worked up. he shakes off that feeling.

today, he tried to release as much of that pent up rage into the match. and he won, as always. he’s the emperor of the world. he wanted to get out all of his anger, because what he wants more than anything today is to be a normal couple with you. but that’s not going to happen, it never does.

he walks in, “where is mein engel, hm?” he stands waiting at the door, waiting for you to come greet him like you always do. after getting married you established this new routine. and you do come, you come so quickly to him and stand on your tip toes to kiss his cheek oh so lightly. “micha, i missed you sooo much” you bat your eyelashes at him. he has you trained so well, it’s impressive. you’re like some cute puppy, you’re actually incredibly well trained. he thinks he should indulge in this idea some time, he just likes any scenario where you’re completely submitting to him. but he shakes that thought off, he won’t get distracted for too long.

he wraps his arm around your waist and walks you to the couch, where he sits down and you stand in front of him, between his legs, looking down at him so innocently. you’re confused, maybe you’re not as well trained as he thought, because you sure don’t know what he wants right now. maybe a glass of wine? you go over to the wine cabinet and pull out a glass and pour in some wine.

kaiser is waiting impatiently, he trained you properly, didn’t he? so why the fuck aren’t you going along with what he wants. god, it’s pissing him off. he sees you walk away, ah, maybe you’re finally going to cook dinner as he wants. he picks up the tv remote and turns it to the bltv channel, today will be perfect, he’s going to simply sit with you, watch some soccer and then eat some nice homemad-

and there you are, standing in front of him looking oh so innocent holding out a glass of wine to him. are you fucking serious? you’re kidding right? you’re definitely doing this on purpose, don’t look so innocent. you’re just trying to piss him off, aren’t you? you fucking bitch. “what is this?” he asks you. he’s angry, but he’s being eerily calm. “wine, i thought you wanted a glass?” are you being dumb on purpose? no, you definitely did this to anger him, didn’t you? ah, he’s so mad now. “and why would i want a glass of wine, after such a long day of playing. wouldn’t i want a meal, hm? dumb girl” he patronises you. and you feel so small. “

but you do something unprecedented, something you haven’t ever done before… you have a… reply? you actually talk back? “y-yeah but how can i know what you want-“ enough. he’s even angrier now. why the fuck are you talking back to him instead of bowing and doing what he told you to do. you retarded whore. what the fuck? all that calmness is gone, he’s gritting his teeth.

poor you, you thought you could reason with him before he got mad, he seemed so calm. stupid, naïve you. you thought he wasn’t mad and now you’ll pay the price.

he knocks the glass out of your hand, the glass shatters everywhere, cutting your hand slightly. the wine pours on you, staining you red. and if that wasn’t bad enough, his fist hits you square in the nose. the pain doesn’t even register until you feel the first drops of blood, and then see them on that cute dress kaiser bought for you just days before. he’s towering above you, staring you down. you messed up, didn’t you? “you don’t talk back to me. ever. i didn’t teach you that. next time, keep your pretty mouth shut. you fucking bitch. did you forget your manners? that’s not how a girl like you should be acting. should i just find a new girl, hm?” he’s holding your throat with his tattooed hand. find a new girl????? no, don’t do that micha!!!! don’t do that to you, you didn’t mean to. but now you’re even doubting that, you definitely meant to. you just didn’t realise it. or something like that… it’s your fault.

he slightly releases the hold on your neck to let you talk, you have a chance to make things up with your words. a very slim chance. because he probably won’t care about what you have to say, whether it’s an apology or not. but he’s letting you talk, so use the opportunity before you get a black eye next too. “i-i’m sorry. i’m really incompetent” you don’t even make any attempt to grab his hands off of your throat, or even wipe up the blood streaming down your pretty lips. “i’ll not mess up again micha, i promise.”

your blood is covering part of his tattoo now too, he notices it and withdraws his hand, and laps up the blood. he always had an affinity for your blood, you taste so sweet. he likes tasting the hurt he’s caused you. it’s fulfilling, this is how he likes living. he loves hurting you, he doesn’t like admitting it often though, ironic for a monster like him. for some reason, that anger subsides. he’s not as mad anymore. maybe he’s going to apologise to you? you’re actually kind of hopeful for that, the small, rational part of you that knows it wasn’t your fault. but that part perishes as quickly as it was lit up. he ruffles your hair with his other hand and wipes the rest of the blood his tongue couldn’t quite clear up onto your rosy cheek. “it’s fine, don’t mess up again, ‘kay? i was nice this time, wasn’t i? you’ve had worse from me before. don’t take my mercy for granted, prinzessin.”

you’re so lucky for getting that mercy, thanks kaiser, isn’t he just so nice? you don’t even know how he managed to forgive you for such a horrible mistake. you’re a shitty wife, thank god your husband is so nice. and, ah, that dress, the one kaiser generously bought for you, it’s all ruined. all stained in the wine and blood. you ruined the dress with your incompetence. you messed everything up, god, why did he even marry you? you’re so stupid, and good for nothing.

he can tell what you’re thinking, he feels a little bad, but he’d rather you beat yourself up over it than him. it’s easier that way anyway. he pats your head again. “poor little thing, all bloodied up because of her own stupidity.” he chastises, and you look down in shame. he’s right, you’re so stupid. “let’s go get you cleaned up, little häschen.” and he does, he leads you to the bathroom sink, sits you on the side, and cleans the blood from you. he almost flinches at the newformed bend in your nose, and the bruise which just seems to be getting darker and changing between shades of nasty blues and purples every second. yikes, he forgets how delicate you are compared to him sometimes.

all you can think about is how generous he is, he hasn’t even changed out of his jersey yet. that’s how nice he is. and he’s bandaging you up too, a cute bandage to hide that hideous bruise. he wants to hide your mistake for you? that’s even sweeter, he doesn’t want you to look in the mirror and feel bad for it, right? that’s what he’s doing right? your husband really is the best.

and that night, you make up for your mistake. you serve him his favourite bread crust rusk, and a nice glass of water. get him changed into his robe. tie up his hair. give him blue-red glasses so he doesn’t hurt his eyes. you pamper him, ‘cause that’s what he deserves. you pamper him whilst ignoring that banging headache from the brutal assault on your nose. and the bruise on your neck. and arms. and legs. all from past outbursts of his. you tend to him and treat him like a king even though you’re so injured, but you’re too brainwashed by your husband, too eager to be the perfect housewife so he doesn’t leave you, and you end up ignoring all of this.

kaiser knows what you’re thinking, predictable little thing. he thinks you’re real stupid. he’s the one that should be scared of you leaving, he couldn’t ever find anyone better than you, anyone more willing. you’re perfect. but he won’t tell you that. he won’t give you an ego. keep being scared of being left alone, so that every second you spend with him you’re even more grateful. he’s scared too, but he’s confident most of the time you’re going to stay. he feels a little guilty for everything right now, ah, it’s one of those times. the weight of his actions presses heavy on him, but instead of taking it out on you again, he just pulls you next to him, opens his robe and drapes one side over you, feeds you a spoonful of your home cooked rusk and pinches your cheek affectionately.

“good girl, schatzi. so good. i love you. du gehörst für immer mir.” he nibbles at your ear a little.

and you just sit and blush. “i-i love you t-too micha, ‘s much.”

you’re the luckiest wife in the world, thank gosh your husband is so willing to put up with your incompetence and stupidity. being a wife is so great. you lean your head against his shoulder, and whilst you’re being so tender with each other, you can forget about all your physical pains caused by him, and he can forget about all of the things weighing and stabbing at his mind at all times, caused by everyone. you’re truly his safe place. a real angel sent from heaven.

“engelchen.”

[leandra-kinard]

I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

[storiesabouteli]

Eli's gurl // Elijah Hewson X SingleMom!Reader (Fluff)

prompt: Violet had a minor accident, and Eli is there to calm her down, even though he's dead worried for her.

words: 1,8K

a/n: It's a strange trope, I admit, but I love writing kids, and I'm stressed, so this will happen again. Plus, Eli would be deffo super protective dad of a lil girl. (Yep, I'm running out of inspo too).

Your hands were cold, and you remembered your mother, your mind quickly recalling the need for bandages when you got hurt as a child. You hated that—when something bad happened and adrenaline only made it feel worse. But this time, something felt serious than usual. When Elijah called, you were just about to wrap up a meeting. His voice was shaky, and you could picture his nervous fingers ruffling his hair. This naturally made you uneasy. As you asked questions, he seemed to grow even more unsettled. Finally, it was clear that you’d need to pick them up from the hospital.

A tight knot formed in your throat, tension heavy in the air. The search for a parking spot felt endless, and parallel parking turned into one of the worst experiences of your life. Feeling how stiff your body had become, you leaned back in the seat, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. Gradually, your mind slowed as you thought of how Eli always knew how to calm her, whether she was in pain, nervous, or sleepy. She would hold his index finger in her small hand and rest her freckled face against his chest, seeking comfort. He had a way of making her feel heard and special, and you found yourself loving him even more each time you saw these moments. This brief thought offered some relief; after all, you trusted him.

Violet wasn’t biologically his, yet Eli treated her as if she were. It took you a while to introduce her to him, something he always understood, knowing how important it was for you. You’d been alone with her for quite some time, and although you’d tried dating a few times, there was a mental gap between your post-Vee body changes and the emotional and physical baggage that came with having her by your side. You didn’t regret it, but it was true—you couldn’t hold onto someone when your responsibilities were the very ones people your age often avoided. Not that they shouldn’t, of course; you understood that choice well. But you did start to think about opening up to someone again. You wanted to try, to feel the thrill of having someone who truly wanted you. When Eli came along, you were cautious, though you liked him right from the start. A long conversation unfolded at a show you’d attended without much expectation, and initially, you avoided the topic, wanting to enjoy his attention. But as your time together grew, you eventually told him about Violet, and he didn’t pull away.

The scene before you was all too familiar: Vee, with a pouting face, clung tightly to Eli’s shirt, while his warm, caramel eyes showed his worry. The room, painted in soft shades of blue, had small animal drawings on the walls, and the table held sterilized thick needles and thread. Elijah appeared even more tense than Violet.

"Look at me, it’s okay, little one," he whispered gently, holding her close and doing his best to comfort her. His eyes were red and misted over as they met her pained gaze, tears welling up in response to hers.

She intertwined her fingers in his shirt tighter and closed her eyes; his voice remained soft, just like the hand resting tenderly on her shoulder. “You’re very brave,” he murmured with a comforting accent. That brought a faint smile to your face. As the doctor stepped back, Vee noticed you standing there. “Mommy?!” Eli looked at you, visibly more at ease, and you nodded at him before going over to kiss your little one. Her eyes were small and tired, and you let her curl up in your arms. “How are you feeling?” you asked. She rested her cheek against your shoulder, carefully avoiding touching the bandage, and nodded. “Good. I cried a lot, but El was right—it didn’t hurt that much, and I feel better now that it’s over,” she said in small pauses, choosing her words just like Eli did, which you found so endearing. He usually laughed at this, but this time, concern overshadowed his usual smile.

“I want to go home, please?” Vee whimpered. As soon as she asked, you looked over at Eli, and he nodded, suggesting you go ahead to the car while he picked up the medications she’d need. His brief words and downcast eyes hinted at a sense of guilt, so you agreed to wait for him. You hated the thought that he might see her as his responsibility.

You stood beside her, gently holding her chair and placing your jacket behind her head to keep it steady. “Want me to drive, love?” You rubbed his shoulders, and though distracted, he turned to catch a kiss from you. “She’s okay,” you said when he confirmed he was fine with you driving. He let out a heavy sigh, as if about to say, “But what if…” in protest, but he held back.

The drive home was quick, and now and then, he glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t deny that seeing your gentle smile made him feel more at ease. Once you were inside, with Vee resting in his arms, he finally let out what had been weighing on him. “I let her fall off the playset,” he admitted, looking down at her with a mixture of guilt and sadness pressing in his chest. “I was watching, you know? Thought it’d be good to give her some independence but stayed close. I tried to catch her before she fell, but… it just didn’t work.”

You listened carefully, sensing the tension in his voice. He placed her on the bed, gently untangling her fingers from his shirt. “We won’t be able to protect her forever, El. It’s important she learns that too,” you said, arranging blankets around the bed to keep her safe while she rested. She lay there peacefully, her hair tousled, the haircut a try of her attempt to look more like Eli. He was certain that you were the voice of reason. Her eyes were a bit swollen from crying, and you smiled to yourself, feeling a mix of tenderness and quiet pride. Eli was a solid figure in her life.

"I’m afraid she might think I won’t be able to help her when she needs it, that she won’t trust me. I don’t like the feeling of not having stopped something bad from happening to her," he said in a low breath, his eyes distant and not meeting yours, and you felt the knot in your throat.

"Don’t say that," you disagreed, walking over to him, standing on your tiptoes as you used your fingers to wipe away his tears. "Do you realize that your concern about this makes you the best person she could have?" His shoulders softened, his eyes gaining a bit of light, still searching for the right words.

"Are you mad or upset?" The tip of his nose touched yours, his hair tickling you. He was a fool, worrying too much.

"Of course not, if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be near my daughter, especially alone." He laughed, allowing you to hug him. Still, she felt the need to add, "She’s not your responsibility, and yet you treat her so well." You said that sometimes, and Eli found himself wondering how people judged you for it, and it hurt a little to see how much it weighed on you, no matter what he said. But he was still there, you’d have to get used to it.

He kissed your forehead, happy with how your face nestled into his chest, the pleasant scent finally allowing him to breathe without a heavy heart. "She’s a sweetheart, so much like you. I love her. I enjoy being with her." That relaxed you, even though you had heard it before, something broken inside you still made it feel like the first time. Eli would repeat it as many times as needed.

"I don’t like seeing her hurt or knowing she’s scared, but it’s not like I think it’s your fault, I know it wasn’t. Kids are unpredictable, and she trusts you so much that won’t change now. In that room, she was so focused on you, on your voice and your calmness—which I know you were acting—making her know everything would be fine." He hadn’t thought about it that way, but he realized it was true.

He was afraid that Vee might be upset with him in some way, but everything, as you said, pointed to the fact that she wasn't. "But you can talk to her tomorrow, what do you think? You can tell her how you feel, and let her know she can count on you when she needs you, because you'll always be there for her, uh?" He nodded, it seemed like a good idea. It was funny to think that all he needed was to talk to you, for his mind to calm down and for things to make sense. It was like that in many areas of his life.

His nose brushed against your neck, and he kissed the spot, followed by your face. You hugged him tighter. "I love you – so much." He sighed, and you could feel that he was less worried. "I love you too." His lips touched yours, and he lightly laughed at the salty taste.

"Do you want to eat something? What did you have for lunch?" You tried to break the melancholic mood. "I didn’t really have lunch, though I made Vee eat while we were waiting at the hospital, and she made me eat some of the sandwiches I made for her." He saw you bite your lip, and there was a silent understanding between you, which made him not have to mention how much Vee was like you. Besides, it only confirmed what you had already said; he was good for her.

"Alright, we’ll eat now, before you go crazy without nutrients in your body." His laugh was casual, and it felt good to see him well.

The next morning, still groggy, trying to avoid getting up, you heard Violet’s voice speaking softly to him. When you opened your eyes, you saw them both by your side, her little hands on Eli’s cheeks, counting his freckles with her fingertips, gently feeling his beard as he held back a smile.

"It’s okay, I insisted on going down the slide by myself, but you were still there with me." She rested her face on his chest, and he kissed her head multiple times. She stretched her hand toward you when she saw you waking up, holding yours. "Good morning, mommy." Seeing her happy made you happy too.

It was so good to have them both. The bandage this time was pink, and you cursed yourself a little for missing Eli’s interaction with her while he treated her wound. She jumped into your arms, hugging you tightly, and he looked at you with shining eyes and a gentle expression that said, "You were right, and I was way too worried for no reason."

[louisferrignojr]

Not only a Tommy bashing fic, we're veering into one of those fics that has OOC in front of every character name and the only thing canon about it is the way people look.

listen I'm too upset to really Process right now but so far this season, maddie has been.... let's just say i don't trust the writers to treat her well. they ALMOST got it right, having her talk to her husband about wanting to have another baby... and then flushed that Significant moment down the toilet by making her, a grown ass 40 year old woman, accidentally pregnant again. because birth control doesn't exist, i guess, and family planning is a foreign concept to her, as a woman with a history of PPD and medical training. the whole POINT was for her to make a CHOICE to either get pregnant on PURPOSE, knowing she'll be prepared this time around, they'll do it right, they'll work together, they'll get help. or, not wanting to risk it, and making the CHOICE to adopt.

like it's bad enough her entire character arcs have been 1. abusive husband/DV and 2. motherhood and PPD.

because that's what women are for, silly! being wives and mothers!

but the very least they could do is treat her with a shred of respect.

i love maddie so much. i can't wrap my head around her blase attitude re: buck's spiraling, her biphobic/homophobic comment about buck's ex gf, and now this "the universe will bring you someone special" yeah, maddie? like it brought you? or was it actually that you and your husband fought tooth and nail for each other? just... the overall fuckery. i'm so fucking mad. my maddie would never.

[sansaorgana]

— IN PERPETUITY (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — After murdering her husband, Sauron's wife disguises herself as a beautiful Elven maiden to live in Eregion and gain Lord Celebrimbor's trust as she hopes for him to forge her the Rings of Power. Her plans get interrupted when her husband comes back in a new form as well and he is thirsty for revenge.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕 I originally planned for Sauron to be the dom in this part but... oopsie, I got carried away and surprise, surprise... He is a sub again! 🤣

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT, choking, hair pulling, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 5,660

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (II)

You spent a few more decades in the North inside the very same fortress but its eerie aura was making you feel too uneasy. Adar could sense that too, as if Sauron’s death cursed this place furthermore.

He wanted to go with his children to The Southlands and to turn it into a home for the Orcs who could not bear the sunlight. You had slightly other plans but his schemes did not interfere with yours.

“I shall assist you and lead your army all the way South,” you told him one evening. “We should leave this place, it is not doing me any good and I cannot waste more time hiding here,” you informed him.

“What are your plans, my Lady?” Adar asked and you only smirked at him.

“What leader would I be if I shared all my schemes with you?” You asked and he clenched his jaw. You knew what was the thing he feared the most, so you quickly reassured him. “I want your children to have their home, too. In fact, such a land of darkness might be useful to me. I am not fond of sunlight either. Therefore, as I said, I shall lead you to The Southlands and assist you on the way. But after we arrive and you settle in, I will leave your side. We will remain in touch, of course,” you nodded. “But I trust you enough for us to split for a few centuries.”

In fact, you did not trust him enough. You would never trust anyone. But you had no other choice and you simply had to abandon your army for some time if your plan was supposed to turn out successful.

“Where will you go?” Adar asked and you gave him a mysterious smile.

“I have a business in Eregion.”

Indeed you had. Mairon was gone but not all of his ideas were. You were truly fascinated by his dream of crafting The Rings of Power but… you had killed your smith, therefore you needed a new one.

And who would be better for this task than Lord Celebrimbor himself? You just had to show up in Eregion as a fair Elven maiden and build his trust slowly, a century after century… And then, using some perfectly crafted and prepared beforehand opportunity, you would push him into the right direction.

You would have your Rings.

Your Ring.

And you did not need Mairon for any of that. It would just take slightly longer time but at least you did not have to bow to anyone or share your power.

Adar could see that you did not want to answer his questions any further, so he only nodded at you but he kept staring at you with squinted eyes.

Like you had planned, you did. Changed your appearance into one of the most beautiful Elven women in all Middle-earth and showed up in Eregion, claiming to come all this way from Mirkwood to learn Lord Celebrimbor’s craft.

The Mirkwood Elves were the most secluded kin, therefore no one was surprised to see you for the first time in their lives. But for that very reason you were also not trusted much in the beginning. That was no problem. You had time. All eternity.

Step by step, you began your journey. At first you were humble and compassionate without even seeing Lord Celebrimbor much. But as centuries passed, you were getting promotion after promotion until you found yourself being the very right hand of the Lord of Eregion.

Your backstory of coming from Mirkwood was useful in a different way, too – whenever you would go to The Southlands to check on Adar and your army, Elves of Eregion believed that you were visiting your family in Mirkwood.

Everything seemed to go well and according to your plan… Well, almost.

You could still sense him. Mairon. Even after leaving the cursed fortress where he had been slain, you could still feel his presence. You told no one about it, not even Adar. You had a feeling it was caused by the bond you shared with him through your blood but should you truly feel anything if he was dead?

You could sense which feelings were yours and which were unfamiliar to you and strange – those were undoubtedly his. And the main sensation you could feel in the back of your own, always creeping in the shadows of your soul like an unwanted guest was… hunger. Deep and primal starvation.

You tried to ignore that eerie sensation because you would go crazy if you tried to fight it or overthink it. However, late at night, when you were pretending to be asleep or studying the projects of the Rings that Mairon had left behind, you could feel it growing and growing inside of you. And your iron wedding ring that had been re-forged into a necklace seemed to burn your skin at those moments, too. But you never took it off for it was supposed to be a souvenir of a life you had once lived; of a previous Age.

You were quite sentimental despite your evil nature.

And when the light of the Elves began to fade in Middle-earth, you were frustrated and terrified that you were running out of time. If Celebrimbor was about to leave this realm, you would lose all those years of progress and preparations.

And who else would craft you such Rings? The dwarves? Would your next form be of a dwarf, trying to infiltrate Khazad-dûm?

You did not even want to think of such a possibility.

Thankfully, Celebrimbor was not eager to leave Middle-earth. He felt as if what he had done was not enough. He wanted to be remembered as the greatest Elf of this Age; the greatest smith for sure. The forge kept working throughout the crisis and at the very same time Adar finally managed to turn The Southlands into the new land.

Therefore, you left Eregion with an excuse to visit your family in Mirkwood. The times for the Elves were very challenging, so no one was angry at you for wanting to see your made up mother and siblings.

In fact, you hurried to The Southlands and you were truly in awe of what your Lieutenant had done to this place.

“How do you wish me to name it, my Lady?” Adar asked as you two were taking a walk amongst the ashes.

“Mordor,” you smirked at him.

“The Land of Shadow,” Adar nodded. “Why?”

“Mairon used to describe my heart this way,” you explained and Adar rolled his eyes slightly but he did not comment.

You continued your walk in silence. For a short while now, the eerie feeling from the back of your soul had been surprisingly gone and that sudden change was worrying to you. But perhaps after all those centuries of dying down slowly, Mairon’s spirit was truly gone now, leaving an oddly empty space within you…

“Do you miss him?” Adar asked suddenly and you shot him a scolding glance.

“Sometimes,” you answered truthfully. “I do not regret what I have done but we shared a long history and a powerful bond that went above our blood pact. He will remain a part of me in perpetuity.”

“My condolences,” Adar remarked and you snorted at his words.

In the evening of that day, you hopped onto your horse and went back to Eregion where surprisingly everything seemed to still be working and all the Elves were happier than ever.

“My dear (Y/N)!” Celebrimbor greeted you with open arms as you hugged him back, confused. “What you have missed, my friend, you will not believe it.”

“I can see that I must have missed something important indeed,” you mumbled.

“Come, let me show you,” Celebrimbor walked you to his forge and showed you the papers scattered all over his desk.

Those were projects of… the Rings.

Three Elven Rings for the Elven Kings. You froze at the sight of the drawings and the very familiar concepts.

“You… You came up with that idea to save our kin all by yourself, my friend?” You asked Celebrimbor. “They are the most exquisite,” you hummed to yourself.

“Oh, no, I…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously. “Well, Lady Galadriel came here and she brought a very special man with her. He was some sort of a human king, I do not know the details,” he shrugged his arms. “Either way, he was an enormous aid to me.”

“Are the drawings his?” Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation as your eyes studied the projects even more thoroughly.

“Yes. Some of them,” Celebrimbor nodded.

“I would like to meet him,” you clenched your jaw, trying your best to hide your nervousness.

“I am afraid that will be impossible, my dear. He is gone and Lady Galadriel claims he will never return. Even if he does, I have made my promise to her to never treat with him again,” Celebrimbor explained.

“I do wonder why,” you smirked to yourself but your hands turned cold when you realised it could have been him – your husband. Back in Middle-earth and so close to you.

He was the only one except for you who knew about the idea of the Rings. The idea was his, after all. And the lines of the drawings were like the ones you kept hidden inside your chambers that had been made by Mairon.

But what was even the meaning of all of this? You had spent centuries in Eregion, still too afraid to even mention the possibility of forging any Ring yet and he showed up and pushed Celebrimbor into making the Rings… just like that?!

“That man… Did he assist you in making those Rings?” You asked your friend and Celebrimbor shook his head with a sour expression.

“No, no… He only gave me an idea and helped me to find the way,” he answered and you nodded.

“Now, when the Elves are safe... Do you not think that perhaps other races would need such items, too?” You teased, carefully.

“(Y/N), my dear…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously and put his hands upon your shoulders. “Let us celebrate this victory first and leave the worry for some other day. Tell me, my friend, how is your family in Mirkwood?”

You were organising Celebrimbor’s papers inside his office while he watched with content how his smiths worked in the forge, drinking tea and smiling to himself. Your peace was interrupted by the smith Mirdania who gathered her skirts and walked up to Celebrimbor’s study.

“That human king… Halbrand. He is back,” she announced and you raised your head immediately.

“Well, tell him to go away,” Celebrimbor avoided her gaze. “In a polite manner, of course. I believe you can come up with something.”

“But… My Lord–” she started.

“I shall do it,” you stood up and nodded at him. “This way, we will get rid of him like Lady Galadriel asked but I will also meet the man who helped you to craft such wonders,” you smiled and Celebrimbor nodded.

You walked past Mirdania and all the way down to the gates of Eregion with your heart growing heavy with each step. Your blood ran cold as you could sense him indeed.

Your husband. Your nemesis.

He was back.

All the questions about how and why were unnecessary. You knew him too well and for the past centuries you had been feeling that what you had done to kill him truly had not been enough. Therefore, you were not as surprised as others would be.

But it still felt wrong and gut-twisting to see him again. The very last time you had seen him he had been a dead body laying in the puddle of his blood after your treachery.

Approaching the gates, you spotted a ragged man of human species with dark hair and dirty tunic. You would never recognise your husband in that person if it was not for the strong feeling in your heart that he was no one else but Mairon.

His back was turned on you but you saw his body freezing when you stood there. He sensed your presence, too.

He turned around, slowly, as you watched with curiosity. His form was different now and the hair colour was not the only thing that changed. His eyes, his nose, his lips, even his height were different. But despite the brand new form, he was Mairon.

He was your husband and you would recognise him anywhere.

And you were his wife and he would recognise you, too. Your form differed now from the one he had remembered as well. Those were not the very same hands that had slain him; yet they belonged to the same person.

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you told him, playing your role as well as you could under such circumstances.

Short silence occurred.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked and shrugged his arms, deciding to play his role, too.

“My Lord is occupied,” you explained, “but he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away, feeling your hands beginning to tremble.

“What a beautiful necklace it is that you have, my Lady. Was it a gift perhaps? From someone special to you?” He asked and you stood still, closing your eyes and sighing before turning around to face him once more.

“From an old friend who is long gone now,” you forced your lips to curl up and form a smile. “Are you not leaving?”

“I’ll just wait here,” he informed you. “Just in case the Lord of Eregion changes his mind.”

He will not, you wanted to say, I will make sure of it.

But you could not because that would be highly suspicious to treat him this way and the guards were standing there. Therefore, you only nodded and went back to Celebrimbor, feeling the necklace on your chest burning your skin to the point where tears of pain formed in your eyes.

You were trying to make Celebrimbor remember the promise he had made to Lady Galadriel and many times you mentioned to him how dirty and filthy you had found the human king named Halbrand. Mirdania, on the other hand, seemed to be enamoured with your husband’s new form and she was his greatest advocate.

“I am retiring to my chambers,” you informed Celebrimbor on that night after working for a few hours with him and Mirdania. “I suggest you two do the same, it has been a long and tiresome day.”

“And the night is so cold,” Mirdania sighed, looking out of the window.

You ignored her and smiled at Celebrimbor before going to your chambers and locking the doors behind you. The very first thing you did was to take off the necklace around your neck but when you did, you spotted a burn mark in the shape of it.

You focused on healing yourself but no amount of your powers was enough to heal it.

“What is going on…?” You muttered to yourself. You were a being much too powerful to fail at healing your form from such a minor injury.

Nothing seemed to work, though. Frustrated, you put the necklace back on to hide the scar with it and you changed into your nightgown.

As a Maia, you did not need sleep. But lots of the nights you were actually laying in bed and taking naps, because there were not many things you could do. And tonight you had to think of a new plan because Mairon’s return was not a part of your perfect scenario.

If only you had your crown with you, you would just take it, go downstairs and stab him with it again. But your crown was in Mordor, under Adar’s protection. Taking an item so dark and powerful to Eregion would make some of the Elves sense its disturbing presence.

But the crown itself apparently would not be enough. You needed allies. And as you tossed and turned in your bed, you were thinking of the Rings crafted by Celebrimbor. If they were not corrupted by Mairon, you could use them to help you.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a rapid knocking upon your doors. You groaned slightly and stood up to open the doors, expecting to see Mirdania in them, pleading for you to help her convince Celebrimbor to show mercy to the human king waiting by the gates. She had made such an attempt many times on that day already.

But when you opened the doors, you realised that she did not need your aid to succeed because she apparently had already convinced Celebrimbor to allow Halbrand inside Eregion.

There he stood, face-to-face with you. In yet another form but this one did not differ that much from the previous one. His ears were pointy now and Elven, his hair was blond and long. He was no longer ragged and dirty but seemed to radiate the light of Valinor and only a creature as dark as you could sense how twisted and corrupted the illusion was.

His robes were grey and humble, especially compared to yours. Even though you were in nothing but your nightgown, your clothes were the most exquisite. In the very early days you had been a disciple of Vairë The Weaver and ever since you had always had a taste for beautiful fabrics.

“Mairon…” You whispered, taking a step back because his presence was so overlooming that you could not do anything else but retreat.

“Wife,” he greeted you through gritted teeth and entered your chambers before shutting the doors closed.

“What is it with the new form? Are you trying to deceive Celebrimbor like this?” You snorted, nervously. “I shall reveal the truth to him.”

“You will not because you would have to tell him the truth about yourself, too. And that is something you will simply not do,” Mairon smirked and walked around your room. He froze at the sight of his drawings on your desk. The old ones, from the First Age. “So, that is why you are here.”

“And you? Why?” You asked and crossed your arms. “Why are you back with the living, dark spirit? Must you torment me so?”

“Torment you?” He asked, angrily, as his eyes filled with pure rage and hatred.

Before you could react, his hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the wall with his burning eyes right in front of yours as his eyelashes brushed your cheeks and you felt his hot breath on your parted lips.

“It is you who tormented me. Who betrayed me and slain me,” he drawled out.

“And you should thank me for it,” you smirked even though you were losing oxygen. You did not need it but it was still a slight inconvenience to your flesh.

“Thank you? I shall kill you, witch,” his grasp tightened.

“If you were not reborn, you would still be that pathetic and weak Mairon I remember. But you are different now. You have changed,” you pointed out and he let go of your throat but his eyes remained cold and empty; two black abysses observing your every movement as if he was a predator watching his prey.

“The change was required. The centuries I have spent on regaining my strength, I was driven by nothing but my desire for revenge. My hatred for you,” he spat out.

“Liar,” you were quick to answer. “All I could sense was hunger. And even now, I see you do not wish to see me slain. Otherwise, you would have already killed me.”

“Oh, sweet wife, you will not know the day nor the hour. I am all in for the dramatics just like you were,” he remarked.

“You are nobody, Mairon. Sauron. I am the one the Uruk follow and I am the one for whom Mordor is being prepared to rule over. I am the very foundation of this whole realm and I am its future,” you took a deep breath in as you stated. “You are nothing but a forgotten shadow that no one wants to follow, not even the filthiest of the creatures.”

“I am your husband,” Mairon’s fury won over his flesh once more as he grabbed you with all force by your arm. “And if I am nobody as you claim, you will forever be stained by being bound to a man like me.”

“You should have stayed dead, Mairon. I will turn your life into hell,” you threatened, your anger amplified by his as they mixed in your veins. “Do try to remember the suffering our master had put you through and I shall be worse. I will destroy you for good this time. I will tear you apart, piece by piece and torture every inch of you until you beg me to release you from your pathetic life forever but for each plea I will prolong the pain,” you drawled out and he grabbed you by your hair to pull on it as his fist tangled in your hair.

“You are only giving me ideas on how to get rid of you, treacherous vixen,” he whispered maliciously into your face. “The bane of my existence,” he added angrily as his empty eyes looked you up and down, stopping for a moment on your parted lips.

And then he kissed you. Eagerly and passionately, not letting go of your hair at all but pulling on it even harder and making your head throw back as your teeth clashed.

You clinged to his robes with your fists, trying to push him away but he was too strong for you to be able to do so. His free hand tore your nightgown off of your body as if he was a wild animal using his claws to get to what he craved the most.

You whined and he broke the kiss, holding your hair in his fist and twisting it to make you wince out of pain.

“Why did you betray me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes and even though his expression was terrifying, you could sense his pain.

“I could have asked you the same, Mairon. Why did you betray me, husband?” You whimpered, searching for an answer in his eyes but he seemed to be confused that you were accusing him of such things. “We were supposed to rule together as equals but you were too greedy, my love, too eager. Yet, you were not fit to rule, not yet. So desperate to prove your worth.”

“Shut it,” Mairon growled and looked down at your naked body and the torn nightgown at your feet. “Are you not the most vain? The form you took as an Elf is so beautiful –  too beautiful. How can they not think of it as suspicious?”

“And you? Are you not vain, too?” You snorted at him and he let go of your hair, pushing you away and making your back hit the wall.

Mairon grabbed your necklace and tore it off of you to throw it on the ground as well, revealing your burn mark. He smirked at it before putting his hands on your naked hips and pulling you closer to his body. His lips placed wet and open-mouth kisses all around your neck where the scar was and you could feel it healing as his fingers were digging deep into your bones and pulling you harder and harder into him, the harsh fabric of his robes irritating your soft and sensitive now-Elven skin.

The sensation of his lips around your neck and the pain from his rough treatment excited you. It had been centuries after the last time you had given in to the desires of your flesh.

It had been centuries after you had experienced such desires at all. Apparently, it was only him who could awaken them within you.

You whined and moaned, reaching with your hands to cup his face and to bring his lips close to yours once more. This time it was you initiating the hungry and teeth-clashing kiss.

“I have lost centuries because of you, witch,” Mairon whispered after you broke the kiss. “You humiliated me. You betrayed me. You slaughtered me. I bled out. I fought each given moment to survive in the very depths of that cursed fortress. I spent ages on regaining my strength as a shadow with no heart, no limbs – merely a mind. Yet, a woman like you is worth the sacrifice. If it was your wish for me to be reborn into a man worthy of you, let it be then,” he breathed out and you let out a twisted laugh.

“Just like my old Mairon,” you caressed his new cheeks. “New face, new body, new powers… The very same pathetic devotion,” you chuckled and pushed him down onto your bed.

You crawled up on top of him with a grin, your hair falling down on his face as he gasped and you treated his robes with gentleness similar to the way he had treated your nightgown with – you tore them off of him and threw them on the floor.

“If you wish to follow me, my sweet Mairon,” you raised an eyebrow as you lowered yourself on his hard length, hissing at the feeling you had nearly forgotten, “you will follow me as my most humbled Lieutenant. You will bow down at my feet and pledge your allegiance to your Queen,” you began to roll your hips, which brought you great pleasure but to him it was nothing but a tease. His lips parted and cheeks blushed as your grin grew even wider. “Say it, my love. Tell me that you will.”

Short while of hesitation occurred. But when you began to clench the muscles of your cunt willingly to squeeze his cock as you circled your hips, he whined and nodded.

“I promise,” he breathed out.

You knew his words were not genuine but you enjoyed playing with him for now.

“I will make you my dog, Sauron,” you called him with the name he was known as amongst the Elves. The dirty name, spoken out like filth. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat when your hips stopped rolling and started to bounce slowly on his cock as you placed your hands behind you on his thighs to steady yourself. “Say it,” you ordered, harshly.

“I will be your dog,” he winced at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him and sucking in all the precum he had spilled already from your ministrations. “I will crawl on my knees after you, kiss the ground you walked on, build altars for you and make others worship you, too. This will be my purpose; the only war I will fight for you. The holy war to convert all the unbelievers.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, my Mairon,” you admitted and leaned in to kiss his lips while putting one of your hands on his chest now as your hips picked up their pace. It was nearly brutal now how you were fucking him and you could feel your own high coming, too. But it never ended with one with your husband. “If you truly will be as good as you promise me to be, I will let you reside between my legs and lick my cunt in return,” you teased, “for as long as you wish, my sweet.”

To see you pleased with him was all he had ever wanted. Therefore, it was no surprise that your words were enough to make him fill you up that very moment as you threw your head back, laughing, straightening your back and continuing to ride him as if nothing had happened.

He whined and whimpered for a while, which you ignored, determined to reach your high as well. And it did come shortly after but by that time he was hard yet once more and that was how it had always been between you two – once you started, it was nearly impossible to stop.

However, when the dawn came, you had to put a halt to your desires, because you both had your duties around Eregion. As the sun rose, you left your husband casually as if you hadn’t just reached yet another one of your highs and you opened the wardrobe to pick the gown for the day, leaving him behind.

He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his elbow as he watched you with squinted eyes, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks still blushing. He was a sight, indeed. He had always been.

“It was never your intention to share your power with me either, was it?” He asked and you snorted at that.

“Do not be a fool. Why would I ever do that?” You asked with contempt.

“You are not hurt by my betrayal. Only your pride is hurt that I dared to betray you first,” Mairon pointed out.

“You forget yourself. I have killed you once and I shall kill you again,” you reminded him and brushed your hair in a rush after putting the dress on.

And just like that, you left him inside your chambers to go on with your day with a smile.

Despite everything between you two, you were glad to have him back. He was treacherous and awful – absolutely the worst. And yet, your life without him had been quite lonely and empty. A dull grey.

And if there had to be only two creatures left in the world, you hoped it would be you and him. In perpetuity.

After running your morning errands, you walked inside the forge and froze at the sight of Mairon. He had his grey and humble robes back on with no trace of your fingers tearing them open a few hours earlier. Celebrimbor and Mirdania were standing next to him and they all laid their eyes upon you the moment you joined them.

“(Y/N), my dear. You will not believe me who our human king turned out to be,” Celebrimbor exclaimed, excitedly. “Come here, my friend. Let me introduce you to Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, the emissary of The Valar,” he beckoned you over and you approached them, trying very hard not to laugh. To see Mirdania’s eyes full of affection and admiration as she stared at your husband only intensified your need to laugh, but you managed to stop yourself.

“It is such an honour, my Lord. Forgive me for the way I treated you by the gates,” you bowed your head at him.

“There is no need, my Lady. Lord Celebrimbor has been telling me a lot about you. You are his most trusted friend,” he looked you up and down intensely although the smile he gave you was kind. Nearly sweet. “And the most beautiful Elven maiden I have ever laid my eyes upon, most certain,” he added to tease you as Celebrimbor cleared his throat and looked away, awkwardly, while Mirdania lowered her head.

“You are way too generous with your compliments, my Lord,” you only answered. “What is the purpose of your visit to Eregion?”

“Lord Annatar is here to help me with the Rings,” Celebrimbor joined the conversation again immediately as his eyes sparkled.

“Are they not finished?” You furrowed your brows.

“No, no, my dear. Remember when you told me that perhaps we should craft more of them for other races that might be in need?” Celebrimbor asked.

“You did, my Lady?” Mairon raised his eyebrow at you with a very surprised expression, which made him look quite adorably innocent but you knew that he was teasing you and you had to fight an urge to roll your eyes.

“Mayhaps,” you only mumbled.

“Well, Lord Annatar is here to help me with these designs. You were right, my dear, we cannot abandon our friends in need no matter what kin they are,” Celebrimbor seemed to be content with this idea and you gritted your teeth.

You truly wanted to punch your husband right into that oh-so-innocent face as everyone would gasp and call you a monster. How dared he? You had spent centuries earning Celebrmbor’s trust and there he was, showing up in that blasphemous disguise and being the saviour of the day without any preparations; stealing and wooing the Lord of Eregion?

Therefore, a new and wicked idea bloomed inside of your mind.

To sabotage Mairon’s plan.

“Oh, really? Well, I’ve been thinking of it, my Lord. I do not think it is a good idea, after all, even though it was originally mine,” you told Celebrimbor and his smile dropped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I do not think any other race is worthy of those rings. Who next? The Dwarves? And then? Humans? Once we agree to craft the rings for humans, we could as well craft them for the Orcs!” You exclaimed, dramatically.

Celebrimbor gasped and turned around as if he was rethinking his decision. Mirdania was not paying attention anymore to you and standing by the window, still jealous of the praise Lord Annatar had graced you with.

Therefore, your husband allowed himself to break the play for a moment and give you a deadly look, to which you replied with a wink.

The game had started and oh, how thrilling it was, how exciting to have an opponent.

And, in the end of it all, you would either kill him once more or end up dead yourself by his hand.

Or, perhaps, your love would only flourish in this environment of constant bickering and rivalry. Perhaps you would rejoin your souls and fates like you had rejoined your flesh on the night before.

Either way, the game was worth playing.

In perpetuity.

MASTERLIST

[gayofthefae]

Oh yeah I never noticed his arm is tucked in but yeah it is so awkward to give a full hug with one arm like that. His left arm should be under Will's around Will too. That's how group hugs work. You don't strategically avoid people.

And what's more is that Lucas and even his own grief over Max are definitely his priority right now. Which means that he has internalized this deep. He is not focusing on Will. But he is still able to be distracted just enough to, ironically, probably argue to himself "don't get distracted/distract by making this about you and Will. Don't hug him."

Because, like you said, touch is this intimate act between them now. Which makes total sense. He came to terms with his feelings and now he doesn't know what was platonic and what was romantic because where he trusted himself to stop at a platonic place when that's all he wanted, he doesn't now.

But I don't think he's ashamed of it anymore. I think he just thinks of it as bigger than it is. He won't steal or distract others or himself from this important moment of grief by having a romantic moment with Will. And by romantic moment, he means, of course, touching hands in a group hug.

But we know that he isn't ashamed of it anymore because once they're in an appropriate situation for that again:

He's fine. When the moment is supposed to be between him and Will, he's fine.

But he thinks of touching Will as an active choice now. An event.

just mentioned this in a different post but i'm gonna mention it again.

this hug is mike-wheeler-is-gay proof, or, specifically, mike-wheeler-loves-will

now, stay with me. "what about the hospital reunion" "what about the season three finale" "what about the airport disaster"

no. it's this one.

will is hugging his friends. lucas is hugging his friends.

mike is half hugging lucas and has his other arm pulled in. will's hand is over his (which is not romantic), but mike's eyes are open and he glances at their fingers for a second while he's talking to lucas.

and he isn't uncomfortable hugging boys in general, but with will he seems to think it is too intimate now.

and, whats funny is will isn't thinking of it as romantic. he's just excited to see his friend in the airport, and here in this scene he is comforting lucas and grieving max. but mike is making it weird

im probably articulating this poorly but this is very much gay of mike

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4])

well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions

do you think it took Rio a long time to choose her revenge dress? did she agonize over every detail? I picture her process like, okay I need an outfit that says fuck you (threatening) but also fuck you (horny) and fuck me (very horny) and then circle all the way back to FUCK YOU THOUGH (VERY threatening)

as to why Rio goes from super soft to *that* - I see it as the equivalent of the TV trope where someone almost dies and their loved one is very concerned, but as soon as there's no danger they slap them around the head and call them a fucking idiot. this is Rio's WELCOME HOME, CHEATER moment (Agatha has been kiiiind of been cheating death, lbr)

this is the best way rio could choose to approach agatha too, and not only because it lets her express all that pent up anger. what would be the alternative? sit Agatha down and have a honest chat? Rio knows her too well, she knows it would be simply too much. Agatha *is* more comfortable with big bombastic scenes, with violence that is a lot like foreplay. Rio is looking out for her right now, she is making it as easier for Agatha as she can, while also not letting her get away with her bullshit any longer.

one little sentence, so many ways to read it

only physically. she's not letting you in. not anymore. you'll have to save her from herself kicking and screaming. dear god she's actually honestly crying. this is a WHOLE fucking deal. and it's also the first time she sees Rio while knowing WHO rio is. she's feeling all the feelings

girls. GIRLS. how am I supposed to take decent screenshots if you keep flinging each other at walls. keep STILL! (look at the furniture btw, isn't it a bit curved? I think they're still using a fisheye lens. reality is still shifting. almost as if we're in the presence of an otherworldly being)

oh the metaphor of it. sometimes you just have to reach out and connect, even if you get hurt in the process.

BECAUSE SHE'S BEEN HIDING AND SHIELDING FOR SO LONG TO HIDE FROM PAIN. OH MY GOD. did a 2000s emo kid write this

every other MCU fight wishes it were this perfect storm of hot and emotionally devastating

Rio cannot physically kill Agatha, it's not allowed, she's only the collector. So what is she trying to do, exactly? Has Agatha really been cheating death for so long that Rio has no choice but to bring her in? Or is she not here to collect at all and this is just her way to get back at her ex (and possibly win her back)? I adore both options, they're tragic in different ways.

time to bullshit! time to bolt! time to get to that escape route! this is what Agatha does best. anything but face the truth

funny how agatha usually has no problem looking undignified. it's almost like this is not the point at all. so let's review: wanda has stripped agatha of the powers that have been keeping her hidden from rio. rio comes over to confront her - and not kill her, she wouldn't be allowed anyway. she does it in a way that agatha would find less scary than having a mature convo. still, agatha has to face things she's been escaping for so long and it's simply too horrifying, too overwhelming. the fact that she's joking around so much (while her future conversations with rio will be sad, soft, dramatic) tells you just how scared and how miserable she is. She's begging rio to stop, because even fighting and flirting, which is their comfort zone, is proving too much. And what does rio do? She listens and goes away. only temporary, she won't let her off the hook now that she has found her. but she's still willing to go at Agatha's pace.

aubrey plaza I would die for your evil little face

can I just say that agatha trying to flirt right now is devastating? she is at the end of her rope. she does NOT want rio to stay, doesn't trust herself around her in so many ways. but she knows how much rio wants her and just... she tries to manipulate her with flirting. it's a desperate gamble, completely undignified, completely in character for agatha. she offers herself to rio, but only physically. when what they had was infinitely more than that, it was beautiful, it was sacred.

and rio... forgives her. she laughs another one of her little soft laughs and lowers the blade. plaza is so good here, the way she says "okay, agatha," is a perfect blend of resentment and tenderness. she knows agatha better than anyone ever had or ever will. she knows why she does everything she does. and she follows her lead. one last time.

agatha's relief. she's trembling, deflated but still on her guard. she looks completely traumatized. the masterpiece that this scene is: you feel smart when you realize that they're flirting rather than fighting. when it finally dawns on you the real weight of their encounter... it's too late.

"by the way there's a bunch of scary witches after you and I totally want them to kill you, that's why I'm telling you exactly who they are and when they're coming"

agatha tries with all her might to believe that rio is heartless. because anger is easier than sadness.

we're leaning, we're leaning, we're leaning!

rio licking agatha's wound to heal it perfectly encapsulates her feelings: anger, horniness, and infinite tenderness. what a power move. rio was the one in control this whole scene, and it wrecked agatha.

"te veo" (I'm gonna go scream in a pillow)

she's gone, honey, she's gone. breathe.

Billy walking on the two of them having sex would have been less awkward than this

she was a BIT preoccupied, kid

and episode 1 is in the bag!

next stop: IT'S LILIA TIME

[erogenousmind]

Permissive

It is so exciting how tone can affect your experience of trance. If you allow them to, the words your hypnotist uses can help ease you into just the right state of mind. Which just a few subtle choices, they might make you feel that you can start to drift. That there doesn't need to be any rush. You can take all the time you need. Because sometimes it feels right to wade in, one step at a time. If you wanted to start to do that now, I think you could find that it is easy to start that process.

You can imagine what that might feel like, if you want to. You can allow the images to form in your head. Seeing yourself, at your own pace, moving deeper into that deep pool. That pool of trance. The gradient is so slight, each step only needs to take you a little deeper. And you can take each step as you are ready. Maybe you want to wait a little while in between, savoring the feeling that came with that last step. Can you feel how your mind begins to change? Do you notice how that most recent step felt different? Wading deeper into the warmth of a hypnotic embrace. It feels so inviting.

And inviting is a lovely word for it. It is an offer. A chance for you to take. As it feels right for you, you can begin to drop deeper and deeper. And maybe you will find that it feels good to follow these suggestions, to allow them to guide you, step by step. Maybe you find your own path here or there, but you can choose to go where you are being led.

There can be a comfort in that surrender, if you decide you want to embrace it. It can feel so hard to make the decisions sometimes. Would it feel nice to let someone else make choices for you? Something as easy as directing your path down into a wonderfully deep relaxed state. That might feel nice to follow. And if that feels nice to you, maybe you will decide that you can follow a little more closely. You can focus a little more intently if you want to. Surrender a few more of those decisions. If you feel like the trust is there, you might decide that you don't need to think as much about what you are being told. It can be easier to just follow. Maybe it will even feel automatic after a little while, if that feels right. You might even notice that sensation excites you a little. You aren't making all the decisions anymore. You are just doing what you are told. And that can be a lot of fun, if you want it to be.

And it's alright if you want to embrace that a little bit more. You can let go of more control. Maybe it feels good as it slips away. Maybe it can feel even better. As you give permission to be led more and more, it can feel better and better. You might find that you want to be controlled. To have decisions made for you. Certainly decisions about going into trance. That's why you are allowing this to happen after all, isn't it? So that you can find your way as deep into trance as you wanted to be. So that you can drift and drop. So that you can turn your mind off for a little while, if you want to.

Your mind can turn off if you focus. If you allow yourself to follow, you can think less. And if you think less, you must be letting someone else think for you. And if they are thinking for you, you are allowing them to make decisions for you. They decide. You only need to listen and follow, if you want to. And that feels so right. So easy. You started to surrender, and the better it felt, the more you wanted to do it. So you are able to let more and more control slip away.

That loss of control can be so titillating as well. You can let it grow as much as you like, because there is something so intoxicating about surrendering such a deep part of yourself to someone you trust. Allowing them deeper and deeper access to your mind. You can even let yourself start to lose focus on the decisions they are making for you. Maybe it feels better for you to just do as you are told. To obey.

And obey can be such an exciting word. You can let it inflame your passions. It can even help you to admit how much control you are surrendering. If you want to, you can notice more and more how obedient you are becoming. More and more, what matters is doing as you are told. You can just allow the pleasure that comes with it, the deep serenity of trance, to condition your mind if you allow it to. Even the words can feel so wonderful on your lips. You might speak them now if you want to. If it feels right in this moment.

I obey.

And even as those words wash over you, you can decide to feel yourself surrender even more, if you like. You can be aware of how your body submits, how it shows the control you have sacrificed, if that will feel exciting for you. And maybe you can let go of the thoughts that don't help you sink even further down. Maybe you realize that you don't need them to obey. And that might mean you don't need them at all.

And the freedom you feel from letting go of those thoughts can help you see how much better you feel when all of it fades away. When you let go of all the thoughts except the ones you are given. If you want, you can let yourself feel all your resistance melting away, the power of this trance allowing you to feel so helpless. It can be exciting to be that vulnerable sometimes. To know that someone has found their way so deep into your mind that they can do whatever they want with you. And so if you want to be aware of just how deeply entranced and controlled you have become, you can allow that to happen.

Maybe it would feel even better to be oblivious. If you want your mind to be so completely entranced, that you don't notice how subordinated your own will has become, then that can be fine as well. You can decide at any point to realize that you are powerless to resist what is happening to you. All the while you let yourself go deeper. Maybe that realization will excite you even more. Maybe your body can respond even if you decide your conscious mind doesn't need to know what is happening. And if you find that it feels better to keep thinking that you have any control of your own, that your thoughts aren't formed at the whim of the one hypnotizing you, then you can allow yourself to believe that as well.

Because it feels so good to accept that wonderful invitation. If you want to remember how much you wanted this, that can be just fine. How eagerly you wanted your mind to be taken. To be rewritten. How you wanted your thoughts, your desires, molded to please your hypnotist. And maybe it is more exciting for you to be ignorant of that desire. Maybe you want to feel that you are being brainwashed against your will. That you are too weak, too helpless to resist any more. That you have no choice but to sink deeper and give in more and more completely. Maybe that excites you even more. You can allow yourself to sink down even further regardless.

And maybe it feels so good to realize all those decisions you thought you could make didn't matter in the end. That you were allowed to make the choices that would entrance you even more deeply. That choosing to surrender was the only choice you could make. That you have given so much of your mind away that maybe you have no choice but to obey. It can be the case that every command you are given is obeyed automatically. That, in this moment, you can allow yourself to feel like little more than the puppet. That you will do as you are told. That you mind must now go completely

Blank

Mindless

Obedient

And maybe you can allow yourself to drift in this place for as long as it feels right. As long as you feel compelled to. And maybe then you can find your way back up, allowing yourself to feel wonderful. To be happy and content, and to have enjoyed this experience so much. Maybe your mind will allow you to forget what you read, knowing only that you are able to go so deep into trance and that it feels so good to do so. And maybe you will want to imagine that you were still in control, that you could stop at any time. Maybe you will want to read again at some point in the future. Maybe you will let yourself realize how irresistible trance is as you read. And maybe the result will be the same regardless. That you can allow yourself to go so incredibly deep into trance when you are given the choice.

[twilightkitkat]

Hi, I have a question, what do you think the relationship between Logan and Steve would be like? Would they be friends or just partners in war? In "X-Men Evolution" You can see how Logan has a certain appreciation for him, saying that both make a great team , and Wade's reaction to knowing that his peanut knows his childhood idol would be very funny, he would surely go crazy

(English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any mistakes)

I think that Logan and Steve have a unique relationship. They're close in the sense that they trust each other and would fight back to back without doubt, but they're distant in the sense that they don't spend a ton of time together. They both have worked together long enough to know that they make a good team and that the other's reliable, but they aren't traditional friends.

I feel like Steve would feel closer to Logan than Logan feels to Steve. Steve remembers the war like it was yesterday, he suddenly woke up in the future with it fresh in his mind. Suddenly everyone he knew is now dead and he has to come to terms with an entirely new reality. He'd struggle and look for any kind of familiarity he could, and so even people he used to just view as teammates he misses. Logan was someone he admired, who used to run into danger and miraculously come out of it alive each time. He was a symbol of hope for Steve, and an inspiration for how he should fight to win the war.

Logan, on the other hand, lived through all those years. He's used to war and violence and meeting people and losing them. Most of it blurs together, after a while. He knew about his immortality and always expected to outlive his teammates, so he kept emotional distance from them. He cared about Steve in a way, they worked together and occasionally they drank together and exchange stories, but he never was under the illusion it'd last. So he did what he was good at: distancing himself before people had the chance to get too close. He respected Steve's abilities and even came to like him, but there was always a wall between them.

But still, the two spent time together. Both out of necessity and occasionally by choice. Steve was more open between the two, and talked about his life and hopes and dreams. Logan couldn't help but listen, even if he couldn't offer much in return. He sometimes sprinkled in half-truths about his life, but kept it vague. He couldn't let anyone find out about his mutant status or actual age, so he was pretty withdrawn. Steve noticed, but didn't comment.

If they reunited, it'd be a one-sided shock. Logan watches TV and naturally knew about Captain America's existence. How could he not, when Steve Rogers was America's poster boy? The Avengers were way too big to fly under the radar. Meanwhile, Steve knew about the X-men's existence, but never thought it might be Logan as The Wolverine he'd heard about.

When they sorted it out, I think Steve would be grateful to have someone who he shared a past with. Who knew about who he used to be and what war was like back then. Logan would feel a little lighter, knowing that his old teammate was doing well. They might not see eye to eye all the time and their methods are pretty different, but they both care.

Wade would be understandably shocked and awestruck when he learned they knew each other. But more than Wade's reaction to Steve, I think that Steve's reaction to Wade would be interesting.

Steve had always seen Logan as someone distant and unattainable. He didn't open up to people and clearly had some secrets he was keeping close. Even after learning about his powers with their reunion, he didn't know everything about his past. He thought Logan was just that kind of guy, caring and kind in his own way but gruff and stoic on the outside. A lone wolf who's dedicated to doing the right thing, but doing it his way.

And here Wade was, bouncing around Logan like a damn pinball in a machine, and Logan was... smiling at him. Fondly, dripping with affection. It's so painfully obvious that he cares and Steve has never seen Logan so open about his feelings. He was expressive, sure, but he guarded his affection and more vulnerable emotions close to his heart.

It'd be a little jarring to see how Logan acted around Wade. Affectionate, free, content. It wasn't like the image Steve had in his head at all and yet it suited him.

It made Steve reflect on himself. If even Logan could act like that, what about him? He'd fostered business relationships, friendships, and teamwork. But maybe he should look for more. (Could he be that happy, too?)

Steve may be America's Poster Boy, but he was alone. He had to stand up and stand out to get recognition. He was the leader, the one people relied on, never allowed to be vulnerable or break character. But if Logan found someone he could rely on, who he saw as an equal...

Maybe Steve has more to learn than just the technology in this new era.

[cakeinpants]

***

It was the day Pat was finally meeting his new ballet master. The mudokon was already at the classroom, dressed in a leotard and standing in position, as he was instructed to, waiting for the new teacher to arrive at any moment.

It's been about half an hour now...

Finally, the tall wooden door opened with a heavy creak, and Madme Delvona rolled in on her mobile chair, accompanied by a tall Chronicler.

"Come in please, Mr. Jabodo. The dancer is here." The Oktigi invited. "Oddett, greet your new ballet master."

So, this is him.. The Chronicler looked nothing like Master. Unlke Mr. Malgaine, Jabodo was a former dancer himself, and it showed both in his movements and his lean and slender figure. He looked like he was in his 30s and was still in good shape. The chronicler looked expressive and animated, and his clothing choices were quite different from a modest black suit too. He wore an asymmetrical white shirt and dance leggings.

Pat bowed to greet his new teacher, but before he could even look back up, the mudokon was startled by Jabodo's hand on his shoulder.

Pat tried his best to keep composure, as the Chronicler started examining the dancer's body like he was some kind of doll, lifting his arm up studying the muscles and posture.

"What a specimen.. I'll be honest, getting my hands on this dancer is a dream come true, Madame Delvona." He said, taking a closer look at the mudokon's face from all sides. "I'm honoured you trusted this work to me. I'm going to make something great of this, I promise you that."

Finally he honoured the dancer by talking directly to him.

"We're starting training right away." He said enthusiastically. "I'll make sure it'll be a spectacular comeback!"

"..With all due respect to Mr. Malgaine, his ideas were a bit.. outdated. I can reveal your real potential. It's time to give people what they actually want..."

***

[anghraine]

Erin Reed of "Erin in the Morning" heard from various movers and shakers in the Democratic Party about the two Congressmen and various pundits saying the real culprit here is ... trans rights. She also compiled quotes from a few other influential Democrats quoted elsewhere as well. I thought it might be worthwhile to share while so many people are justifiably terrified, so here's the link to her newsletter, and some of the quotes in question—

Senator Ron Wyden (D-Oregon):

In the 1990s I became the first Senate candidate to support gay marriage. After the 2004 election a lot of pundits said it was time for Democrats to stop standing up for gay people. They were wrong, and history showed we could stand up for what’s right and still win elections. This is not the time to abandon our values and principles, we must double down and fight for what is just and right – and that includes making sure that transgender people can live their lives without fear of discrimination. Our coalition is made stronger when we fight for all people and refuse to scapegoat vulnerable people.

A spokesperson for Senator Peter Welch (D-Vermont):

The Senator will continue to stand up for the rights and personal freedoms of all Vermonters, including trans and LGBTQ Vermonters. The Democratic party fights to level the playing field—whether that’s creating jobs and lowering costs, protecting rights and personal freedoms, or making it easier to access health care. What news pundits say won’t change our core values.

Senator Alex Padilla (D-California):

Now more than ever, I remain committed to supporting the LGBTQ+ community and ensuring that trans people are treated with dignity and respect. The fight to defend the rights and freedoms of trans individuals continues, regardless of who occupies the White House.

Andy Beshear, governor of Kentucky:

None of this means we abandon important values and principles. As governor, I have vetoed numerous anti-L.G.B.T.Q. and anti-choice bills, yet I still beat Mr. Trump’s handpicked candidate last fall. [...] Earning trust and showing people you care about them also requires that we talk to people like normal human beings. And that we are not afraid to share our “why.” For me, my why is my faith, and I share it proudly. I vetoed anti-L.G.B.T.Q. legislation last year because I believe all children are children of God. And whether people agree with my decision, they know why I’m making it. They know where I am coming from. So while others are talking about political strategy and messaging, the way forward is really about focus and about action.

Senator Patty Murray (D-Washington):

Democrats absolutely do not need to sacrifice trans people’s rights—or anyone else’s rights for that matter—to win elections. Most Americans believe in freedom, including the freedom to make your own health care decisions and live your life as you see fit. Frankly, the GOP’s intense focus on attacking the freedoms of such a tiny segment of the American population is nothing short of disturbing and no doubt deeply unproductive given the wide range of serious challenges facing our country.

Senator Tammy Duckworth (D-Illinois):

Unlike political pundits, my duty as a United States Senator, my literal oath of office, is to support and defend the Constitution—and one of the most important constitutional principles is equal protection under the law. Election results have no bearing on that sacred oath, nor the reality that our nation was founded on the ideal that every individual is endowed with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Denying Americans basic freedoms because of who they love or who they are is a betrayal of our founding ideals, period.

Senator Jeff Merkley (D-Oregon):

Every American deserves the freedom to fully participate in every aspect of our national life. No one should ever be excluded from this vision. As MAGA extremists continue their attacks on members of the LGBTQ+ community to score cheap political points, I will push to end discrimination and expand freedom for all.

[vigilskeep]

did you sacrifice Neve or Bellara and what was the in game/out of game thought process? also which ending did you get with solas???

bellara!!!

i feel like ““sacrifice”” is a bit harsh jgshsjsksk. it felt important—to ME—that sol trust bellara in this final moment, and let her take a risk.

i mentioned not long ago that sol never wanted to tell bellara what they actually thought because they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. they worry this is condescending because, well, it is. going into bellara’s personal quest, that was absolutely their mindset: they don’t have to be pushy and insist bellara accept the truth that cyrian is evil, because they can simply be there to stop cyrian for her, thus protecting her from all emotional duress and physical harm. then they get completely blindsided when bellara actually convinces cyrian! it was a pretty arc-altering, eye-opening moment for sol for a lot of reasons. they should have had faith in bellara, and recognising that she was right and they were wrong challenges their core beliefs that people don’t change and don’t act against their own interests and you only have yourself to blame if you expect anything other than human nature and then inevitably get hurt. if sol was in bellara’s position, they would have killed their cyrian when they didn’t have to.

(this is a pretty unsettling thought, given that a) in their backstory, they have killed someone they loved before, probably without giving them the chances that bellara did, and b) they have something like a brother, who they usually assume the worst of, without having ever really just asked him certain things and given him a chance to speak for himself)

so it felt like the correct development, to me, to have sol rely on bellara in this crucial moment. (as an aside, also the correct development to protect neve, which sol previously failed to do.) they’ve grown to have faith in her judgement, rather than see her as naive and try to cushion her from the fight! i was thrilled with the result. it felt so right to have a brilliant young dalish mind in that position in the final battle. the alternative would be strange to me especially with a human rook in the picture too

this actually leads directly into the answer to your other question, because sol (perhaps surprisingly) gave solas a shot at redemption! and the arc that bellara’s personal quest ties into is really crucial there. sol has always wanted to believe that people can change their nature. obviously, it would be ideal for them if people could, because sol wants to believe they can one day leave the crows without it destroying everything they care about. it felt like a fitting ending for them to let solas try. it felt like an arc, considering that sol previously has always, always chosen to punch first and talk later. just once i wanted them to give someone a chance. and also to not jump at another shot to make something a physical confrontation and get themself killed! mental health win! for once, they didn’t want another fight, they just wanted everyone who still could, including themself, to get to go home. (lucanis dellamorte, the effect your big pleading brown eyes have.)

it’s what made this a hopeful open ending, to me. after all, if sol can change the dread wolf’s path, how can changing the fate of one little crow feel as impossible?

(they’d still be messed up about it though, it was not an easy choice and i was sat there for a minute. like i said in my other post, solas fucked them up. and they feel they might have betrayed harding. they were the one who convinced her to embrace her anger! and then she died, trusting them, and they just... let solas go? what kind of loyalty is that?)

[mae-i-scribble]

So I'm not really that into Arcane fandom or anything like that but is anyone else a little worried for how season 2 is progressing thus far? I'm not talking about the apparent Caitlyn vitriol that some people are falling into- god forbid you have complex characters am I right. But watching the first act of season 2 it's all so terribly rushed and not in the same way season 1 had fast pacing but with tight writing to make up for it.

Spoilers for the first 3 episodes ahead but the fact that we barely even get to know the new enforcer characters that come to Zaun annoys me. The most we have is the girl introducing herself to Vi. The other two aren't even named in the show let alone have any sort of personality. For the big shield guy why is he even allowed to be an enforcer???? Sir you were seemingly living on the streets drinking away your problems last I checked with no indication you were or wanted to be an enforcer. The kid that follows Jinx around doesn't even have any sort of lines until episode 3- which would be fine if it was clearly a deliberate choice for her character but considering that the show is trying to juggle so much it just feels like she fell to the wayside.

I'm also very much not a fan of how the 2nd season is structuring its storylines thus far- certain scenes loose their tension because they're so intercut with other scenes happening simultaneously- take the vi and jinx fight for example. Like I get it you wanted to show how them interacting with the run was actively interfering with the fight but the constant cuts back and forth leave a bad taste in my mouth. The structure they use for the various sections with music overplaying them are hit or miss to me- some I love, some I think should have been actual scenes with dialogue.

I'm also really sad to see them seemingly rush over bits of character development we really need to see. Like take Vi- her not wanting to be an enforcer is 200% justifiable and believable, we haven't been shown anything about how the enforcers work that would give Vi a reason to want to join. And then after the attack in episode 1 she silently comes to a decision to join which fine, I can buy her wanting to help now that Zaun is conducting terrorist attacks. But she just agreed to the plan to use the gray against the people of Zaun???? Really???? Vi did??? Shouldn't Vi, someone who is only joining the enforcers out of desperate necessity, be way more critical of any use of force in the undercity? There's even little things like when Caitlyn arrests the henchman I was expecting Vi to stand up for him because almost *everyone* in the undercity is some sort of criminal so that they can survive. But no it just turns into Vi asking them to ditch the side characters we know absolutely nothing about.

Speaking of Vi- for the record the cait/vi kiss in my opinion was stupidly forced in. I would have liked to see their relationship develop this season because in season 1 I could see the beginning of something there. I really loved the moment in the first episode where it's only when seeing Vi that Caitlyn breaks down a little because Vi is someone she can trust to be open with. Great stuff to further develop- oh no they're kissing after no development just to make the immediately following break up more dramatic? Great yay yippee representation -_- Don't get me wrong I would have loved to see it develop into a romance but not in episode 3 with no buildup (1st season does not count as buildup to me for an actual romantic relationship).

This is also somewhat petty but I do hate the fact that Ambessa is revealed to be behind the memorial attack in episode 3- I much would have preferred for that information to be revealed to the audience alongside whatever character discovers it. Revealing it like that is dramatic, sure, but I feel like it ruins the mystery of Ambessa's morality in a way that is not satisfying.

All in all I'm not the happiest with these first 3 episodes but we'll have to see how the other 2 arcs go before making any judgement calls overall.