#in them and hes learning the truth and its a big fucking world out there.

[foxofanequinox]

5ever thinkin bout riz gukgak alone in a hidden room seeing his dad for the first time in 5 years, picturesque in his childhood. ugh.

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys. 

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving. 

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else. 

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would. 

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true. 

Fuck it. 

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's. 

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is. 

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask. 

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands. 

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.” 

By Friday, you're at your wit's end. 

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes. 

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it. 

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different. 

Careful, that voice inside you says. 

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking. 

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey. 

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table. 

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy. 

 “Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance. 

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask." 

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so." 

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time." 

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?" 

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal. 

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.” 

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze. 

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him. 

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking. 

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?” 

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.” 

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says. 

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.” 

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest. 

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are. 

“And what would that be?” 

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans. 

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass. 

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar. 

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside. 

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere. 

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down. 

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking. 

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too. 

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say. 

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders. 

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands. 

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems. 

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss. 

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.” 

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.” 

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple. 

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going. 

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow. 

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you. 

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?” 

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan. 

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath. 

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest. 

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing. 

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs. 

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each. 

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you. 

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks. 

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look. 

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say. 

“I’m a contractor.” 

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.” 

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say. 

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest. 

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing. 

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask. 

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense. 

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit. 

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number. 

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave. 

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little. 

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it. 

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses. 

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work. 

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed. 

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

[gaybd1]

“So… you’re really breaking up with me?” Zuko asked again.

“I mean, I guess. We don’t need this anymore, don’t you think?”

Zuko was more confused than upset. And wasn’t ‘we don’t need this anymore’ an odd thing to say about ending a relationship?

He looked back at Mai across the sofa they sat on, confusion still showing on his face. He could see a hint of exasperation beginning to make its way into her expression. They’d been having this conversation for a while already.

“I just… aren’t things going well?”

“Zuko,” Mai sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You’re like my best friend.”

“Right, so..?”

“Not. A boyfriend?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping Zuko would be able to fill in the blanks.

Zuko knew his relationship with Mai wasn’t… typical. They didn’t kiss much anymore and had never even thought of doing anything beyond that, but it… worked… He valued their companionship.

“I just… why now?” He thought it was a fair question.

Mai huffed and stood up, turning to face him.

“Honestly, Zuko. I didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. I just thought maybe we were both ready to move on. The world’s changed since you became Fire Lord, and I thought maybe it would be safe now for us to…”

Zuko blinked at her, still making it quite clear he had no idea what was going on.

“Look,” Mai sighed, sitting down to face Zuko on the sofa opposite his, “We aren’t in love, Zuko. We never have been.”

He sputtered, wanting desperately to protest, but finding he needed a moment to think about it. He did love Mai, definitely. He always would, just like he loved Azula. Being with Mai had always made sense…

“Zuko,” Mai pushed, “We’ve never been in love, right?”

“Maybe not…?” he admitted.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand. “I don’t take it personally. I know you’re not interested in women.”

Zuko sputtered again. What? Of course he was… why wouldn’t he…?

“What?” he whispered. The truth was he’d never really thought about it.

“Zu. It’s fine. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not into guys either. That’s what I thought this whole relationship was about, actually.”

Zuko didn’t say anything. This was a lot to process.

Mai seemed to understand, sitting quietly until he was ready to talk.

“So…” he finally managed, “You’ve always…?”

“Yeah. It took me a while to figure it out, but definitely.”

“So you think if we break up now we could…?”

“No offense Zuko, but I’d much rather be with Ty Lee than stuck in whatever this is with you. I think we’re ready for it now. And you and Sokka—“

“WHAT?”

Mai sighed and put her head into her hands, staying like that for a moment while Zuko tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“Agni, Zuko. Sorry. I didn’t think any of this was new information to you,” she sat up and looked directly into Zuko’s eyes, “Yes, dumbass. The whole Nation knows at this point that boy is in love with you. He’s not exactly subtle about it. And everyone besides you seems to have the idea that you love him back.”

“But I’m not even…” Zuko was learning a lot about himself tonight, apparently. Could he be in love with Sokka?

He thought about it.

They were just friends, right?

Thought about the happiness that filled his heart every time he entered a room Sokka was in.

Good friends…

About the natural ease with which they spoke with and spent time together.

Close friends…

How he thought of his friendship with Sokka very similarly to how he thought of his relationship with Mai.

…Best… friends?

The desire that had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, which he’d tryed and failed to lock away completely, to grab, caress, kiss Sokka. But thoughts like that were normal every once in a while, right? Everyone had them. Except… he had them for Sokka more than he ever had with Mai…

“Oh shit…” he whispered, “I’m…”

“An idiot,” Mai finished for him.

That was not was Zuko was going to say, but he let it slide.

“I think we gotta break up,” he said instead.

[chaifootsteps]

i struggle between the idea of "verosika, vortex, fizz, asmodeus, and other characters act ooc towards stolas when the story needs it for the sake of making him look better",

and,

"these characters do not know the horror stolas is capable of, are not aware that stolas called blitz, knowing he was bleeding and running for his life, just to make the arrangement he explicitly set up as "favors for favors", and they probably will never know, or any of the other geninuely terrible things he did," and both feel true, even if theyre technically contradicting each other. it feels weird to say characters can act out of character without certain information to alter how they act, but.. i mean, sometimes its just comical.

is there not something inherently fucked up about knowing asmodeus, king of consent, is chill with stolas, because oz doesnt know that stolass spent an entire season pushing boundaries, belittling blitz in a fetishistic way, and coerced him into fucking monthly for something he needed no matter what for his business?

these characters dont have to know exactly what happened, but what i do know is that their attitude would more then likely change if they learned the truth. i wish stolas's line of, "why would i allow everyone to see how much i like you?" actually meant something, because who knows that stolas likes blitz besides the people in ozzie, ozzie himself, fizz, stella, octavia, and.. that's it. verosika doesnt even know, she just assumes stolas hates blitz too. it doesnt really feel like it matters that they know, because despite them seemingly being important characters within hell, they barely have an effect on it. but it doesnt matter anyway- because mammons special episode just confirmed out right that no one there actually gives a shit about class difference! so whatre we even doing here when the shows premise was built on the basis of how supposedly taboo is it for a goetia and imp to fuck?!

if these characters knew about their deal, then yeah, the show would be holding him accountable. because the world would be naturally reacting to his actions, since rape is.. looked down upon in lust, but ok in pride i guess because of velvettes lust potion? idk :/ like let's just say for the sake of this example that only shitty people that happen to be imps, and sinners, are okay with that stuff. most imps and hellhounds seem like well rounded, average people, just with a little extra sprinkling of edgy.

i just cant help but to think; what if the story actually took advantage of hells disgust for relationships with upper and lower class demons? instead of just dropping it so ozzie and fizz could have their public "i love you so much and i dont care what anyone else thinks of it!" moment?

what if blitz got caught with the book instead of being given the crystal, and started a whole political scandal throughout hell when he gets arrested, (a good way to re-implement that stupid ass concept of prisons in hell,) but threw stolas under the bus with him by confessing (in an uncomfortable graphic detail, because i think blitz is one of those people who would make everyone feel uncomfortable when things suck for him,) that he was sleeping with stolas for the book? so that way he'd be in deep shit too.

i dont think its unrealistic either- news reporters swarmed stolas with a crowd when he got his shit rocked by striker, so hes definitely important, even if we dont know what that ugly ass dry walmart rotisserie chicken even does for his job.

i'd love to see a montage of characters like stella, verosika, fizz and oz, even fucking wally wackford; reading the news paper that morning, or watching news on the TV, only to see: "BREAKING NEWS! GOETIA PRINCE STOLAS CAUGHT HAVING SEX WITH AN IMP AND ILLEGALLY HANDING OUT TRANSPORTATION TO THE HUMAN REALM!"

if that happened, then i'd be fine with stolas being a petty bitch. because he'd have practically nothing at that point, besides his daughter and his big rich house, if they dont take it from him in this scenario bojack horseman style.

its weird, gross, and unsatisfying that they set up these big stakes with big potential consequences, but the only actual consequence is stolas getting his feelings hurt, so he can feel justified into "succumbing" into thinking what blitz had was a romance, or even a relationship at all.

It's mind-bogglingly frustrating. None of these characters have any idea how terribly Stolas treats Blitzo, and that's exactly the way Viv intends to keep it.

Hell, Blitzo was there for all of it and she very pointedly never allows him to bring it up.

[feyre-darling92]

Nights like these

Ghost x reader

Gues who’s back. Back again. Yep, I am not dead but I have died from studying. Anyways, here’s a little one shot with our favorite husband, Ghost.

Synopsis: It’s these nights that hunt Ghost the most. He never expected you to change that.

Word Count: 1.213

Also this is not proofread

It was nights like these where memories would return. They found home in the dead silence, the darkness. They became the darkness. And whoever was dealing with the demons... it was nights like these he hated.

Ghost hated these nights. These nights when anything seemed meaningless. When the darkness was so thick you wished for it to shallow you. When your own mind betrayed you.

He spent them alone. What else could he do? It was late at night, too late for anyone to even think to stay wake, too late for anyone to actually care. Only company the moonlight. The comforting weight of his mask and the -even though he wouldn’t admit it- the snores of the soldiers. This meant they were alive, it meant he had done something good.

And then you appeared.

A night like these, when the world seemed too much, when he was alone at the common room, gazing at the stars through the big window, trying to find solace that’s when he heard footsteps.

The insticts kicked in faster than logic, gun drawned and pointed at you.

“The fuck you’re doing here” He growled. He was not Simon now, no. He was Ghost back again.

“Just taking a walk” you stated simply as he lowered his gun and quietly put it back on its holster. You slowly and quietly walked to the armchair across him.

“A walk?” he scoffed, eyes coldly watching your every movement. You seemed... tired, he noticed.

Why did he notice? He usually didn’t care.

“It’s too damn late to even consider being awake” he added in his usual cold and serious tone.

“What are you doing up that late then, Ghost?” You raised an eyebrow as you spoke quietly.

He had noticed this trait of yours the moment you stepped in the task force. Always speaking your mind, the cold truth, the annoying comment you couldn’t hold back. Even talking back. Oh, how angry and annoyed he got when you spoke that way to him. You of course didn’t back up, always ending up in a fight.

“What are you doing up that late, Weasel?”

“Ah, you must be really annoyed to call me by my code name. I understand, I can leav-”

“Stay”

One word. Stay. One simple word that meant too much to him. You understood.

“A penny for a thought?” You asked softly. You knew that his behavior right now showed... vulnerability. The most Ghost could show.

He finally relaxed around you, his eyes turning to the night sky. “Why are you up so late, y/n?” he asked instead but instead of his usual stern and serious tone there was something else. Something you couldn’t understand.

“Just... overthinking, I guess”

All he did was nod and let you stay with him. And you did.

Sitting in silence for some time was more comforting that you had expect it. You turned to him and observed his eyes, the only think you could see behind the mask. The only thing you had learned to study.

“You have beautiful eyes, Simon” You spoke quietly, speaking your mind without filtering.

You had called him Simon. Not Ghost

He chuckled slightly and took a cigar out of his pocket, lighting it up and lifting his mask enough so you could see his mouth.

He hadn’t done that before.

“How did that thought even cross you mind?” He took a long drag out of his cigar and slowly exhaled the smoke.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

“No”

“Alright” you tried to supress a smile. “But just to know your eyes can show me your expression. I can see when you’re grinning like an idiot and when you laugh silently”

“You’re a creep” he stated half-joking

“Says you” you chuckled looking at him from the corner of your eyes. He grinned, “Touche”

“So, what are you doing here that late?” he took another drag, sighing.

“Escaping my problems. You?” You ask quietly, “Let me guess, you are actually trying to become a ghost” You teased, “Is that it? Shall I call you ghostie?” I grinned.

“Fuck off” he rolled his eyes but he spoke in a playful tone. “Maybe the same” he added quietly, avoiding to look at you.

“You are young” you whispered more to yourself, but he heard.

“Aren’t you a smartass. What did you expect me to be? 56?”

“No, I just thought you were older”

“And? Now that you learned what changes?” he asked a little seriously. He wanted to know.

“Nothing. Why would you care if something changed, anyways?”

“Nothing, forget it” he said dismissively. “So, you will stay here, I guess” he finished his cigarette and threw it away. You couldn’t understand the tone of his voice now, though.

“Is there a problem with that?” you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. You understood. He wanted you, your company right now.

You did something you would have never imagined you could do before. You took your chair and moved it so you now sat next to Simon, shoulders barely touching.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

He would never admit it but your gesture relaxed him. Gave him comfort.

After an hour or so you felt tired, sleepy but too stubborn to return to bed. So you did the first thing that crossed you mind, without second thought. You rested your head against his shoulder.

Ghost flinched at the sudden weight on his shoulder but after glancing at you he calmed down a little. He would allow it for now, he lied to himself. Not because he didn’t like it but beause he liked it too much.

And after another hour he found himself at the very same position, too sleepy and stubborn to move. He blamed his stubborness of course and not his refusal to wake you up. And in no time he found himself falling asleep, his head resting against yours.

He could let his guard down for one time. For you. Because of you.

Of course he didn’t admit anything when Price and Soap found them like that the next morning. Not when Price shook his shoulder gently, to wake him up, not when he very carefully moved so you wouldn’t wake up and definitely not when Soap teased him all morning.

You woke up much later, with the seat next to you empty. You brushed it off, continuing your day when at the afternoon you met him with Soap.

“I have a job to do, see you later lass” Soap made a poor excuse and left, leaving you alone with him.

“About yesterday-” you started but he cut you off, “There isn’t much to talk about yesterday” he said with his usual cold and serious demeanor.

“Of course” You nodded in understanding, “See you around, Lieutenant?” You asked casually, not showing any feeling.

Had he really not felt anything yesterday? You wondered but before you could leave he stopped you with a firm but gentle touch.

“Thank you” he choked out, looking into your eyes.

You nodded, a faint smile in your lips, “See you tonight, then?”

He rolled his eyes, “Is this a date or something?”he said and his voice betrayed a playful tone.

“Maybe” you teased and he chuckled softly.

“See you tonight”

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

I have a genuine based in canon well thought out refutation to the people who think that absolutely none of the bill backstory we’ve gotten is true/that bill spawned into existence pure evil from the start. and that fans who believe he was ever Not evil are just being dumb. but this is not that refutation. logos can have its day in the sun in a second but rn pathos wants its time to shine

disclaimer that I know that bill is a liar who tortures people and manipulates and blah blah blah. I am aware that he sucks. It Is Known. I am aware that I might be falling for lies and might be proven definitively wrong in later content. however for now I am spinning what we do have in my brain microwave, because what we do have hits a specific and personal button for me

like. kid is born who sees the world differently. (in this case, literally). nobody gets it. parents try to medicate it away. peers see it as something to be mocked. nobody gets it. kid stops trying to tell people. it doesn’t go away and it doesn’t get better. nobody gets it. kid grows up some and thinks the people around them would understand if they could just see. they throw caution to the wind and take the big risk assuming that this will be their hero moment where they embrace their difference and show the world the truth and it’ll all work out in the end. instead it destroys everything and everyone they’ve ever known. instead of recognizing what they’ve done and try to change, they decide that disaster was inevitable and lean in harder

and like…maybe this is just the weirdly specific bits of my life falling into place but. I kinda relate? to baby bill, anyway. to the kid who was different. and I can see another version of my life where I leaned into the spite and resentment that was there (tbh that still is there, a little) and decided that everyone else was in the wrong

cause when you feel like being yourself inherently means hurting other people, it can be easier to say that it’s because you were just born awful than to try to change it.

fortunately most of us are Not born with the ability to light fires with our brain. but as someone w mental health stuff that can make it hard to be around me, who is trying every single day to convince myself that changing for the better is worth it, I look at Bill’s decision— his “everyone else in euclydia is wrong and I’m going to be me and Show Them even if it risks destroying an entire dimension”— and the fallout that ensued that led him to become the fucked up monster he is by the time of the series. and I see the worst case scenario. what he should have done is what the pines have done: to support and be supported by family and to grow as a person, just like ford had to overcome his pride and mabel had to accept growing up and dipper had to learn to trust. but instead he chose the worst possible option. sometimes I like villains because they remind me what NOT to be.

and to people who think I’m dumb for finding meaning in a story that might be a lie: it’s all lies, baby! it’s fiction! truth is a construct!!!!!!we’re all just meat and electricity with neuroses that we try to cope with by imagining fake little guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[setaflow]

🔫 FREEZE this is a STICKUP

gimme 5 great lines that you wrote (whether you’ve posted them or not) and 5 great lines someone else wrote (whether published or fanfic) and nobody gets hurt!!

P.S. If one of lines isn't a Tom Robbins quote, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself. (I say this as a joke, but also...)

YES OFFICER SORRY OFFICER

Frankly I could've filled the entire second section with Tom Robbins quotes I loved, but I limited myself lmao

5 Great Lines I Wrote:

Johnny’s come to realize a long time ago that most folks tend to employ a geocentric view of Night City— it’s the center of the first world and thus all fads, conflicts, and politics are destined to fall into orbit around it. He likes to think he’s grown out of that mindset, that he’s wizened up enough to see past the veneer, but it’s hard to see the city for what it is some days and not think of it as the nucleus in the great big slow-decaying cell of what used to be modern day America.

Untitled WIP, Cyberpunk 2077

The afternoon air tastes of lethargy— the kind of lazy day you take when there’s little to do and even less worth mustering the strength for. Nothing’s stirred outside besides the occasional gust of wind, a pair of blusterous boots kicking sand up and down the main thoroughfare.

Untitled WIP, Cyberpunk 2077

The look on Hellman's face seems to've transcended terror and looped straight around to piousness, as though God Himself had strolled through the door and asked to bum a cigarette.

The Wheel of Fortune and the Hanged Man, Cyberpunk 2077

No words are exchanged, no gazes are averted. For one split second, V feels doubt creep in, wonders if she should adjust her aim and do it proper this time— no harm, no foul, right? What kind of wolf has the rabbit in its jaws and refuses to bite down?

Rain in the Desert, Chapter 17, Cyberpunk 2077

The sun and the moon were never supposed to meet. They were only supposed to follow after the other, never actually crossing paths. Two entirely separate lives, pulling and pushing on each other from a distance, content just to be as they are and never anything else. When people first saw eclipses, they interpreted them as a sign that the world was ending. Fuck. Fuck. The world has already ended so many times, and he’s still here. Alone. At the brink of everything he’s ever known, at the brink of leaving it all behind for good. And all Johnny Silverhand can think about is how to explain that he loves and hates and deeply fucking misses some stupid merc he never should’ve met who didn’t know how to cut her losses and just let him die.

In Medias Res (Here, Besides the Rising Tide) (WIP), Cyberpunk 2077

5 Great Lines Others Wrote:

"He’s twelve years old, and this summer he learns that people will always choose a simple lie over a complicated truth, because the lie has one unbeatable advantage: the truth always has to stick to what actually happened, whereas the lie just has to be easy to believe."

- Fredrick Backman, Us Against You

"The unhappy person resents it when you try to cheer him up, because that means he has to stop dwelling on himself and start paying attention to the universe. Unhappiness is the ultimate form of self-indulgence. When you're unhappy, you get to pay a lot of attention to yourself. You get to take yourself oh-so very seriously."

- Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

"There comes a point in life when you've seen so much that hardly anything surprises you or bothers you, and that's a shitty moment. Wisdom is so terribly overrated."

- Drew Magary, The Hike

“People are rotten everywhere you go. They’re no good. You want to see a very bad man? Make an ordinary man successful beyond his imagination. Let’s see how good he is when he can do whatever he wants.”

- Min Jin Lee, Pachinko

"Trees fall with spectacular crashes. Planting is silent and growth invisible."

Richard Powers, The Overstory

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Puss In Boots: The Last Wish

Holy shit, ya'll, holy shit. This movie, THIS FUCKING MOVIE is probably one of the most insanely BEAUTIFUL, expertly crafted MASTERPIECES, not just from Dreamworks, but from any studio EVER. Like what the hell, how did they DO THIS? How did they take a sequel to a decent, but somewhat forgettable spinoff movie and turn it into something THIS FUCKING GREAT? It's utterly unbelievable, and yet absolutely magical in every way. So let's get into me gushing about how much I adore this movie because how can I not?

After losing the eighth of his nine lives, Puss falls into something of a slump, until he hears word of a magical Wishing Star. Hoping to use the star's power to get his nine lives back and escape from the (utterly terrifying) clutches of Death, he once again teams up with Kitty Softpaws, and a new addition to the group, the adorably innocent Perrito, to brave the Dark Forest and find the Star. However, they're not alone in the race to the star, as Big Jack Horner and Goldilocks and the Three Bears are all determined to beat Puss and crew to it and take the wish for themselves.

So there's like... so much happening in this movie, you'd think it'd be a jumbled mess of characters and plotlines with nothing getting the focus that it should, and yet... I don't know how they did it but everything just... fits so perfectly here? The pacing is some of the best I've seen in any movie, all the plot beats and scenes go on just long enough and everything flows so naturally and right? The charactesr are all given so much depth and time to just interact here, and not just our leads either (I'll get into that more in a sec). At no point does anything feel like its dragging and at no point does anything feel like its going by too fast. I don't know how they did it, but it all feels, in the words of Goldi and the Bears, just right.

As for our characters, Puss is just as great as always here, with a really compelling arc of him learning to value his life and the people in it. Kitty herself has a good arc too of learning to trust as her and Puss rekindle their relationship. Perrito is absolutely precious and adds this genuine sweetness and heart to an otherwise grizzled and world-wary duo. Goldi and the Three Bears are absolute standouts though, like oh my god, ya'll oh my god the feels I had for this sad little orphan girl and her theiving bear family? I want an entire series or spinoff movie about them, Dreamworks, PLEASE I'm BEGGING you, I need MORE of this beautiful little found family!

We have two villains here, and both are pretty great in their own right! Jack Horner is our more traditional insane villain played for laughs (the fact that he's voiced by John Mulaney helps) and he's pretty funny while also being appropriately sinister and ruthless, making him effectual to boot. But then there's Death and holy shit, if this movie had come out when I was a kid, I think this wolf would have had me pissing my pants because he is terrifying. Like seriously, hands down, the scariest villain in any Dreamworks movie by both design and in terms of just the way he moves, the way he speaks, his eerie whistling any time he enters a scene? No wonder Puss has multiple panic attacks when faced by this motherfucker, because honestly, I would too.

The themes of this movie are all so wonderful as well, from the ones I mentioned above (learning to value life, trust, found family, etcs), but I think its overaching message is absolutely beautiful and shines its way through all of its various subplots. The idea that sometimes, the thing you're wishing for most is something you already have. Like damn, Dreamworks, hit me hard with that kind of beautiful, inspiring truth.

Also fucking hell, the ANIMATION??? IS UNREAL??? This is by and large the most BEAUTIFUL movie dreamworks has ever made, with such a unique and vibrant style that makes everything feel so... dreamlike, I'd say. The texture work here is so complex and yet so simple, the backgrounds are so intricate and colorful, the MOVEMENT IN SOME OF THESE FIGHT SCENES? Insane, unbelievable, Idk how they did it, but they DID it, and it's GORGEOUS. Also so is the music! The score SLAPS, especially in those fight scenes and also I just gotta say, Favorite Fearless Hero? Gonna be stuck in my head for a week. I ain't even mad about it.

So yeah, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is probably one of the single greatest things Dreamworks has ever made. It just hits in every way, an excellent ride from beginning to end with a story that flows so well, characters that are just a delight to watch, animation and music that practically make me foam at the mouth, gah, its just... perfect. Truly, utterly perfect. (Or Purrfect, if you want to be catty about it (ok, I'll stop).

Overall Rating: 10/10

Verdict: Have a realistic depiction of a panic attack

Previous Review (The Bad Guys)

Next Review (Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken)

[starlightshadowsworld]

I'm gonna end up bashing Kirigiri a lot in this one.

I do actually like her I swear but this bit... Nope. So... You've been warned.

You know what really pisses me off about Makoto's trial situation.

It's not even the execution.

Like I get it, you know?

Someone had to die.

And the two most suspicious individuals especially in the trial were Makoto and Kirigiri.

And Makoto was very much protecting Kirigiri and thus dodging the questions.

Which isn't exactly the best strategy, even without Kirigiri throwing him under the bus.

It was rigged by Monokuma.

We're honestly just lucky everyone voted the same person.

I don't like it.

I think it's scummy but so are the rest of the trials.

So I can deal with that.

I can even understand Kirigiri's rather blunt point that she gets Makoto was protecting her.

But that she couldn't bring herself to do the same.

I get it.

Its easy to say you would die for a person you care about but being in that situation is hard.

You can never truly know what you'll do.

And Kirigiri has a lot of self preservation.

So it makes sense to her character she wouldn't.

And she told it to him straight.

Which for Kirigiri, someone who is notorious for hiding things from people.

It's a big step for her to honestly admit her feelings like that.

I respect that.

Does it hurt?

Absolutely but it's the truth, and she owes it to Makoto to give him the truth.

To tell him that yes she did do what she did.

She can't change what happened but she almost lost him, the only person she has left.

And in doing so she realises how important he is to her.

That Kirigiri snuck down here with the hope he had survived, that she would never have forgiven herself if she had caused his death.

Kirigiri was left in a world without Makoto in it and it wasn't a world she wanted to live in.

And so, she's going to protect him too.

Because they are a team, she can't do this without him and so they are going to end this nightmare.

Together.

Except... None of this happens.

Instead of a possible heart touching moment between two survivors.

Even an apology.

Kirigiri says "and not to make excuses but" and tells Makoto that it was very important that she survived.

She's found out her talent, she's the Ultimate Detective.

And so her survival is important as she's the only one to defeat the mastermind.

... And that's when I flipped the table.

This.

This is the bit that just pisses me off.

Because it's not "I could have gotten you killed, my hands were tied in a death game and I made the difficult choice that will haunt me forever."

No.

It comes across as I have to live because my talent is more important than yours.

Thus your survival is not as important as mine.

Which is so incredibly fucked up.

It's basically the Danganronpa equivalent of eugenics.

Your talent is objectively lesser than my talent so you deserve to die so I can live.

I hate this.

I hate this sooo much.

I wasn't even playing I was watching a play through and I wanted to rage quit.

How fucking dare you.

You didn't even know what your talent was for the entire game.

But now you do, somehow now your the most valuable person here?

Like Makoto hadn't been destroying himself. Trying to keep everyone alive.

Basically carrying all the trials on his back.

And she spends the rest of the time talking about her talent and such.

And just wow how did you make Makoto almost dying about you?

That's impressive.

Also, you know who else does something like this.

Someone who finds out the main character has a lesser/no talent and than proceeds to treat them like shit for it?

Nagito.

You know, Nagito the guy everyone whether you love him or hate em can all agree is cuckoo in the coconuts?

That Nagito.

Nagito spends the whole game friendly to Hajime but also extremely hot and cold with him.

Only to learn that Hajime is a reserve course student, thus without talent.

And proceeds to turn a 180 and berate and insult him for it.

And minus that last part, very similiar to Kirigiri.

Even down to the fact both are hiding huge secrets from everyone.

The only real difference is Nagito doesn't see his talent as impressive, but in the face of no talent Hajime?

It's makes him better than him.

It means that Hajime is beneath him.

But when Nagito does it it's fucked and when Kirigiri does it it's cool I guess.

But you know what the icing on the cake is?

Kirigiri is someone who generally keeps a stoic face.

She's unflappable, she's always serious and cool headed.

Gives me the ice queen with a heart of gold vibes.

But in this scene, Kirigiri is smiling.

She's telling Makoto how her life means more than his, and she's smiling.

Now I actually like Kirigiri.

Shocking I know.

I do, I like her and I know she's in Danganronpa 3 and I can't wait to see her in it.

But this?

Fuck this.

Fuck her.

Fuck all of this.

I know the Kirigiri stans are gonna rip me a new one like they do everytime I talk about Makoto's trial.

But I don't care.

And Makoto's a better person than me cos I'd have just sat in the corner of the trial room.

Like oh I thought you were so talented and this was your whole reason for being here.

And you're the only person who can beat the mastermind.

I'm gonna go get actual pain killers and a bed that doesn't come with murderers.

Okay, baiiiii.

You know for someone who's Jin Kirigiri's apparently neglected daughter...

... He sure passed on his fucked up ideology to her.

[the-californicationist]

For the ask game, if you’re willing: ❤️ and 💛

No pressure though. Love your work!

That makes me so happy. I really appreciate that, friend. Also! Thank you so much for this ask!! 🩷

❤️ — I think the line that I wrote that sticks in my head the most is from Gunslinger, which doesn’t make much sense out of context but alas:

“Let him eat your bones right up, your faithful coyote, all the brokenness within you.”

However, I am most proud of the writing that I was able to accomplish in The Devil’s Summer. It’s a hard fic to read, though. Dark stuff.

💛 — The most impactful lesson I’ve learned from this process is that you should never rush to the good part.

I have written over 95 fanfiction stories in the past year, I have 525k words inked down, and I’m sure there’s a few tumblr drabbles that I can stack on top of the pile as well. Throughout all of them, I have a terrible habit of sprinting to the part that I want to read. I’ll have it written a hundred different ways, imagined it a thousand times in my mind. Whatever it is — the big fight scene, the first kiss, the earth-shattering confessional — whatever the good part is, I hurry towards it, hungry like I’ll starve without it. But, the rush takes the glory from it. Details add to the taste, like spices to a meal, and without them, I feel like some of my big moments fall flat.

I hate slow burns. I hate writing them. I hate reading them. And yet, I’m starting to realize that I just hate waiting to see if the good part will come true.

A good slow burn, with a talented author, will drop little crumbs, small promises, letting you know what’s coming. She’ll whisper between the lines, “I know what you want. It’s here. Just wait!” And I find myself trusting those stories. Banking on them. And then realizing that the good part was only good because I consumed all of the other bites around it. If the main meal is always dessert, who wants more cake?

And I think, through this realization, I have also learned to be more patient with myself. If you knew me back in October 2023, I was churning out 150k words per month. I thought I had to hurry. I thought no one wanted to wait for me. I wasn’t worth waiting for.

But that has changed for me. I don’t run myself ragged anymore because I think I’m worth waiting for. I think my work is worth my own patience. And when I do deliver a post or a chapter or whatever, I think it shows that it was built and crafted with care, spiced and salted and grilled to be at its best.

And it has taught me just how much more learning I have to do. That desire to rush, to skip, to only eat (or read) the dessert is still there. It still taunts me. I can still hear myself in my mind saying, “Why would anyone wait on this when they can pull up tumblr or AO3 and get something else right now?” And teaching myself to ignore that negativity, to power through with my details, to trust my gut and write about all of the intricacies that I think are important; I have learned to try to listen to that part of myself. It’s becoming easier to do so.

When people bemoan George R. R. Martin for taking “too long”, I think that if people feel that way about a world class author, surely they must also feel that way about the fanwork they read. Hell, people have even stolen fanwork to feed AI machines just because they “want an ending”. And I thought that was the norm, but now I just feel sorry for those people. They can’t understand how much sweeter the treat would be if they had just been willing to wait for the work to be done in the way it was meant to be done. I feel sad for them that they will never realize the potential for what was unfinished.

I used to only read completed fics. I didn’t want to wait. I needed to know how it ends. Does the hero survive the evil? Do the lovers tell each other the truth? Does he actually fuck her in that one bed they have to share!? But not anymore. Now, I taste the little clues the author leaves behind for me. I listen to her voice as I read: “Trust me!” And so I do. I don’t mind waiting for the good part anymore. I subscribe, I bookmark, and I comment to tell them how much I am enjoying being fed.

As a writer, I need to get better at that patience. On waiting for the good part to come. It’s not always easy, but it’s been a good lesson.

[pinkberrypocky]

pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 6

my favorite part of this ep is kyoko playing ddr to the opening song (lies its all my favorite. this show is a masterpiece and every single scene, line, shot has meaning and adds to the story. literally this show is my everything)

Kyoko asks homura if they’ve met before when homura calls her by name and homura just says “perhaps, who knows” which should not be so funny to me

Homura tells madoka that if reasoning with a fool won’t work she’ll resort to more drastic measures which sounds like she is thinking about hurting madoka to meet her own ends but in actuality it means that she may be more forceful in keeping madoka out of magical girl business in order to save her

The opening ends with a scene of madoka and homura looking dramatically to reddish lighting 

Kyubey eats the fully black grief seeds which makes him at the top of the food chain the kyoko referenced

Wild how no one in the show comments on the fact that they collect food for him

They are like livestock to him

But livestock that raise themselves 

Magical girls becomes witches, different magical girls defeat the witches and fill the grief seeds with black, kyubey eats the grief seeds, and kyubey makes more magical girls

Kyubey even tells sayaka about how strong madoka would be and suggests that sayaka could ask madoka to make a contract to defeat kyoko for her which is so fucked up

Not important but it’s so silly to me how kyoko is dancing to the opening song at the arcade

Kyoko w a pocky stick in her mouth is such an interesting reference/allusion to cigarettes

She is corrupted, she is distinctly more adult (not age wise but mentally), she is a delinquent

Gold shines on the surface of the fight between kyoko and sayaka when sayaka returns the next day to try and track the familiar 

Madoka is always trying to get the magical girls to talk and work things out between each other because she believes that each of them deserve happiness and life

Sayaka so quickly jumps to being willing to kill kyoko which shows the instability of her ideals and morals once she is faced with the reality of the adult world

In this way madoka is more naive since she never loses her sense that all people are good and deserve to live

The argument madoka and sayaka have at the site of the fight is the first time we see sayaka coming to terms with and addressing the severity of the situation

She is overwhelmed by the badness that she sees in the world and becomes jaded, contending that she and mami are exceptions

Madoka cries and i think this is because she sees how sayaka is being changed not because she’s hurt (which i do think she is) 

When madoka comes downstairs that night to talk with her mom the lighting is green

A big difference between madoka and sayaka is that madoka believes that there can be multiple truths, both sayaka and kyoko can be correct and valid while sayaka believes that her view is the only morally just one

Which is why sayaka is so upset and spirals once she learns that not everyone ascribes to her philosophy whereas madoka continues to say that all the magical girls should try and work together

Madoka’s mom says that as you grow up the consequences for messing up get bigger and bigger which is ironic considering madoka is actually facing much higher stakes than her mom

The sky is yellow when sayaka goes to visit kyosuke and he is already gone from the hospital 

The lighting is red as she walks away from the hospital sadly and contemplates visiting him at his house

Red lighting continues as kyoko confronts sayaka outside kyosuke’s house

Kyoko sas that if sayaka wanted kyosuke to have to love her she could just break his bones so he would have no one else to rely on 

Objectively kyoko is right that it would be a more straightforward way to get kyosuke to be with sayaka but all sayaka sees are the ethical concerns

Kyubey gets madoka to intervene in the blooming rematch between kyoko and sayaka bc he knows there’s a good chance he can get madoka to make a wish if something goes wrong

Madoka panics and throws away sayaka’s soul gem to stop her from transforming and fighting 

Homrua immediately panics and disappears to go after it bc she knows from past timelines that the soul gem is the entirety of their being

The shrillness and hoarseness in madoka’s voice as she begs kyubey to save sayaka is so painful 

Homura has been a magical girl through all these timelines, does she even remember what it is to have a body and be human? No wonder she doesn’t feel or act human anymore

Madoka’s immediate reaction is sadness and crying, while kyoko’s is anger and violence 

Highlights the coping mechanisms of the two of them

Homura silently retrieves the soul gem and revives sayaka

Just like she silently slaves away time after time to save madoka in every timeline

[cactusringed]

i WILL sleep soon but im having too many thoughts

the fact that etho decided that he was just going to be Very Nice To Bdubs.

bdubs? he must have been euphoric. he was finally given a spot in ethos heart in the way etho always has one in his. this was some sign that said hey, i matter to him too!

which only made it worse for him when etho did things for grian and cleo he would never do for him.

bdubs wondering if it meant anything at all to etho, or if it was some big joke. if he and his stupid big heart was some joke to etho. if etho understood that all itd take to get bdubs on his side was the slightest attention that way, dropping the act once he was satisfied with bdubs devotion.

to bdubs, it sure would be looking like he didn't ever matter to etho, only what he could do to keep etho alive did. nothing about his wellbeing or even happiness mattered to etho

bdubs told him he would not kill him, no matter what. even when etho told him he wouldn't blame him if we did. and etho couldn't even bother lying about failing a task for bdubs' sake

its not even that bdubs would care if etho attacked him for a task. if there was anything he could do for etho he'd do it in a heart beat, including losing a few hearts. but the fact that etho didn't even care enough to go 'yeah sure id fail a task for you' after bdubs proclaimed his loyalty

then, seeing how etho treats grian and cleo...

anger

i need bdubs to be furious

i need him to be angry on his own behalf. to recognise his self worth and realise he deserves better.

he would give everything to etho. what more does etho want from him? what more could he give to make etho care about him? how DARE etho build him a place in his home, pull bdubs in close, only to treat him like shit?

i need bdubs to be furious

and im going to be completely honest, i need to see him snap and kill etho. hes a man being pushed to the brink, and etho needs to learn that bdubs isnt some sidekick thats going to follow him around. that bdubs would give him the world if etho had bothered to give him even a shred of loyalty and care. and that etho FUCKED IT UP

IM SORRY WHEN YOU GOT ME INTO ETHDUBS I DIDNT EXPECT SUCH AN ANGSTY FUCKING RELATIONSHIP I

AAAAAAA

ok im falling asleep while writing this if i got anything wrong thats why. bed time. nighnigh

Brother when I tell you that the be nice to bdubs day episode makes me sick after what etho did. Oh my god. Oh my god.

The thing is about etho is that, he doesn't lie to bdubs. I don't think he does, anyway. All that kindness he offered bdubs - well, it was obviously a bit to embarrass him, but it was also all true. He doesn't like to lie to bdubs. He's haunted by the time he promised something (a life) and didn't deliver, to the point where when he did it again (promised to help bdubs with anything he needed, then laughed at his face when bdubs sought out his help) he felt SICK

Etho doesn't like to make promises, because he hates not to deliver on them. Bdubs loves to make promises he wholeheartedly intends to deliver on, or that he hopes the receiving party will know he'll try his heart off to deliver on. Bdubs values, so much, the very act of trying, the intent behind it. Etho values results. It's a dissonance neither can really see. So it leads to miscommunication and misunderstandings

Bdubs has promised so much to etho, so many times - etho must believe the words empty, no matter how earnest bdubs is. Meanwhile, because Etho is so careful about managing expectations, he comes off as... Aloof. As not returning even half of bdubs' earnest feelings. It's such a difference in their expression of love.

Etho felt bad, and thus he pushed himself to express love in a way bdubs would understand - through words of adoration. But then he immediately returned to his old ways. Immediately withdrew, as if scared. Because he is scared. In truth, he's terrified of the feelings he holds for bdubs, and how much it can hurt the both of them. But instead of seeing that, Bdubs can only see it as Etho playing a sick game with him. Bdubs, so starved for Etho's attention and love and devotion.

I doubt he would've promised cleo or grian he would protect them against the boogeys. He's told cleo before, that he's not a protector. He doesn't want to give the impression he is because he hates the idea of betraying that impression. But in the moment, he did become a protector. But it's that seed of doubt that it plants that hurts so much.

Because now, Bdubs will always see etho and remember that he refused to vow his protection to bdubs, whilst turning around and protecting his allies. He'll always see etho and remember that heartbreak.

He feels like he's been throwing so, so much love to a complete brick wall. Somethings gotta snap.

I want bdubs to either kill etho or try to hurt him - to genuinely go after him. But also if he does - if either of them do - I'll have a category 10 ethubs meltdown I s2g

This can only end in tragedy I swear I swear I swear I feel so SICK it's late and my head hurts so this probably makes no sense but. My god

[memeticsdivision]

For the ask game (feel free to pick and choose) 1, 3, 11, 19, 24, 25?

i like this ask game a lot so ill do my best to answer all of these!

(it gets long so answers are under the cut)

1.) how would you describe the world your story takes place in? essentially our world, but like the universe of scp. supernatural, paranormal, and anomalous things exist but are hidden behind a veil of normalcy. a big part of that, for example, is that ideas and concepts created or held in collective belief by people can be given shape, form, and become real (i.e tulpas and thought-forms), which is the in-universe explanation for things like ghosts, some cryptids, and other paranormal things.

as it relates to moratorium, reality is a very prominent aspect of this world, since because concepts and ideas can become real, reality is a malleable structure. reality benders are humans (humans is a dubious way to refer to them though for numerous lore reasons) who are able to directly impose their ideas and beliefs onto reality and make minimal to major changes based on whatever ideas they have for it. there aren’t a lot of them, and they’re very, very rare, which is why the universe hasn’t collapsed because of a catastrophic change yet, but fenris is one!

3.) any recurring images/elements? mannequins, fire, rain/thunderstorms, dereality, and ofc time loops

11.) give a general summary of the plot/world/characters. oh jeez its really hard for me to summarize things SDHGFJHSDFG so ill do my best

the story goes that, on the night of the death of fenris’ parents five years prior to the start of the game, several things went wrong. there was a fire that started suddenly, someone in the home with them that shouldn’t have been there that night, and the fact he was the only one who survived. five years later, he’s an adult now (just turned 20). he is chronically depressed, burdened with years of unprocessed childhood trauma, cannot relate or connect to the world around him, and is desperately trying to be normal while having reality bending powers that he hates since they remind him hes Not Normal and have basically done nothing but ruin his life.

part of getting older and out in the real world though is that he’s starting to process how messed up his life has been. and he does not like it. so he starts rapidly repressing and compartmentalizing all of his issues and trauma so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. unfortunately, his powers give that trauma a place to go, and he creates physical manifestations and representations of his personal demons and fears that are placed in the town he stayed following his parents death, port rosnu.

one of those manifestations, cernunnos, is very unhappy with being created as a copy of him but exclusively all of the parts of himself he hates and all of the trauma he worked to repress, and starts reaching out to him in his dreams to lure him back to port rosnu. eventually it works, and when he gets there, he learns several awful truths he spent years trying to forget. he also accidentally creates a time loop that resets whenever he dies which keeps him trapped there, forcing him to face everything hes repressed and everything hes done

tdlr: a severely mentally ill orphan with an emotional detachment from reality has reality bending powers. mistakes ensue

as for character summaries i’ll keep these short but basically:

fenris (he/him) the protagonist. a reality bender with a fucked up connection to reality due to heavy childhood trauma and like no motivation to do anything in life because he’s spent all of it running from his past, said trauma and how it affected him, and Himself (aka he has wildly rampant self loathing). has one million issues and disorders

cernunnos (they/it): the literal manifestation of those one million issues and disorders. a copy of fenris, but specifically all of the “bad” parts he doesn’t like about himself, who goes insane because of all of the trauma they got forced onto them and, since they cannot kill themself, decides the only way to be free is to kill fenris since he’s the one who made them

mor (she/her): a recreated version of fenris’ deceased abusive mother but specifically of how he wishes she was, nicer, more loving, and more accepting. unfortunately, she’s also a literal monster. she fully accepts her identity as his mother and is VERY obsessed with him and the idea of reuniting with him, but has also come to the conclusion that in order to make a happier family, she needs to kill him in order to reunite all of them in death and also so she can have him by her side forever and she will never have to lose him ever ever again.

19.) describe the sillies you think about but that dont go in the story. pre-plot shenanigans amongst the denizens (aka the monsters in the story, including mor and cernunnos). they didn’t have much to do so in my head its like a sitcom where everyone hates each other. but in-canon its not like that

24.) best scene youve written? i haven’t written a whole lot in the land of google docs, but probably fenris meeting cernunnos (hopefully ill finish it soon e_e)

25.) best scene you havent yet written, but have an idea for? i can’t really go into heavy detail since that requires lots of plot details, but the finale.

[gerec]

Gerec’s Favorite Fics - 2022

It's that time of year again = go read these lovely fics and ring in the New Year!!!

Reminded Me of Brighter Days by emperors_girl 

There on his welcome mat is a brown long-handled basket with a bundle of blankets inside. The basket gurgles at him. Then it begins to cry.

No Three-to-Five, You’re Doing Life by brawlingdiscontent

Charles gets revenge. The third and final installment (though it should also stand on its own). Charles and Erik take their kinky and dysfunctional sex life to an all new level. 

twilight by ikeracity, specficslut (homosociality)

"Volatility was a chemical property. Erik remembered Mrs. Berkowitz saying, with the rhythm of a chant, volatility was how likely a substance was to mist into air, and that was how he felt now, like he could dissolve into nothing at any moment, unless he fucked Charles so hard his eyes spun back in his head."

For someone who kills monsters for a living, Erik is irrationally conflicted about the monster in his bed.

Mr & Mr Eisenhardt by faerie_ground

Charles Haller and Erik Eisenhardt meet at a bar, fall in love, and get married. Neither of them know that the other is an assassin working for a rival agency- but they're about to find out real soon.

a traditional courtship by Helenish

Maybe it’s even a game between them; he catches Charles often enough, watching him, curious, bemused. He lets it go further than he would, otherwise.

i worry that love is violence by intentation (WIP)

Seven years ago, Erik Lehnsherr vanished from a college bar after a night out. The investigation into his disappearance was brief and inconclusive, and his file was eventually shelved as a cold case.

Seven years later, an MIS raid on the home of one Sebastian Shaw reveals the truth: Erik Lehnsherr had been kidnapped, imprisoned in a cellar, and kept as a sex slave for seven years.

Now, in the aftermath of Shaw's arrest, Erik is confronted with the cold reality of his freedom. His burgeoning relationship with MIS agent Charles Xavier may save him--or destroy them both.

Feeding the idea of you, leaving me starving by hllfire

Apocalypse won, and Charles Xavier's body and power is his to take over the world and build a new one from its ashes, but Erik isn't sure if Charles is completely gone or not.

What We Inherit by populuxe

Ever since David came to live with his father, their relationship has been polite but distant: his father is always working, and David still sort of thinks of him as Charles Xavier, The World’s Most Famous Telepath, a larger-than-life figure he first saw on television five years ago.

But when the grandmother David never knew existed calls and demands to meet her grandson, a harrowing weekend trip reveals how much he and his father don’t know about each other—and alters things between them in ways he never would have predicted.

Unlived Histories (The Double Vision Remix) by populuxe

When he was a boy, a man visited Erik and his mother and helped them escape before the war. Years later, Erik finally learns the man’s identity—but the truth is far more complicated than he ever could have imagined.

Erik’s Flawless Minivan (Terrible Hanukkah Sweaters and Other Life Challenges Remix) by winter_hiems

Erik has two main goals when it comes to his kids’ school: making other parents jealous with how smooth his car runs, and teaming up with Gabrielle Haller to yell at teachers for not respecting their kids’ mutant and Jewish identities.

And then Gabrielle’s ex comes to town. And he’s very attractive.

unconventional by ikeracity

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik co-starred on the explosively popular animated show Greenkeep, where they first earned their big breaks — and where they fell in love. Now, at a cast reunion a decade later, they've made careful, PR-vetted plans to reveal their relationship to the fans with minimal fuss.

Of course — easier said than done.

pale, then enkindled (The Don't Read the Retweets Remix) by midrashic

The animated kids' show that brought Charles and Erik together gets a live-action reboot.

On the CW.

some like it sweet by ikeracity

He's just your sugar daddy, Erik reminds himself every day. You can't be in love with him.

Erik's got it all figured out—a delightful roommate, regular sex, his textbooks paid for. Except for the way his heart goes haywire whenever his sugar daddy is around.

scandal of the century by joshriku

The headline reads:

STEAMY SEX TAPE BETWEEN MAGNETO AND PROFESSOR X LEAKED!

“All right,” Charles says. “I wouldn’t call it steamy, you know, that’s an exaggeration.”

“That is seriously not the point, Professor,” Jean answers.

(A sex tape is leaked. PR crisis ensues).

how near to fairyland by ikeracity for hllfire

Since childhood, Charles has kept all the things he can't let go of in a beautiful room in his head. Cuba brings his precarious balancing act crashing down.

to put the world between us by populuxe

Erik Lehnsherr is one of the hottest actors in Hollywood: fresh off an Academy Award nomination, he’s about to star in HBO’s most anticipated show of the year. And even though online chatter about his recent string of queer roles keeps getting louder, his personal life remains personal—just as it always has, and just as his manager and publicist continue to advise.

But when he winds up at the same wedding as his college best friend, Charles Xavier—and when they quickly fall into bed together—he’s forced to revisit the past he’s been trying to get away from for years. The pull between them has always been magnetic, but so has the weight of secrecy. Can they keep from repeating the same mistakes, or will the price of the truth be too high?

[oh-my-damn]

But like I’m failing to wrap my head around how she could be the victim in this? Like she was the one who decided to alter her life, ways and hobbies to match another man lol.

By no means am I saying it’s alright what they’re doing but I don’t think she’s oblivious to what’s going on. As I said before, she was the one who changed for him, I doubt she was forced too.

Okay so this all very much depends on the way you look at it

Since none of know the actual truth, in this case it also depends on the stance you take

As a Chris stan, it's so easy to argue that she created this "ruse" of who she was and "fooled him" into thinking they were so alike and so he fell in love with that fake version of herself that she altered to fit him

As an Alba stan, it's so easy to argue that he is taking advantage of her and doesn't truly love her and that he is an old man and is using her for sex and doesn't treat her right etc

And then there are the more objective standpoints.

Because this also all depends on whether you believe they're real or not.

If you believe real, then looking at the situation you could argue either of the above, or you could argue that perhaps she didn't realize what was happening. Perhaps Chris Evans messaged her on instagram and like any young girl looking to rise up in the world, she responded. One thing led to another, they meet. And then she fell head over heels for him. So now she's this 25 year old going after the big kahuna of Hollywood, and how tf do you keep a man like that?! You can't keep him unless he wants to be kept! So what do you do? You do your research. You learn what he's like. You lean what he likes. And then you mold yourself into that person in a desperate attempt not to lose him.

Now, if you believe it's PR, there are also several ways to spin it:

One being that they're both in agreement it is strictly PR, the other being that one person is more invested in this situation than the other one is.

Strictly PR makes sense from a lot of logistical standpoints, and hey, maybe they sprinkled some spice in there, who wouldn't? That doesn't really matter bc if it is solely for PR, then there are no true feelings involved and they might both still be dating other people on the side. They tolerate each other for the sake of the arrangement.

Or two, one person is using the other for PR. Now, that would mean one person actually believes they have a deep connection while the other knows its just for now/for attention right now. I think we can all imagine what this would look like, and unfortunately, this too could also fit into this situation thats been happening ever since November.

Had they kept it quiet like the past year (where all they did was "breadcrumbing") I would have been inclined to believe the possibility that it could be real love between them.

But the fact that the PR has now been introduced in the suffocating way it has, proves that at least SOME part of this arrangement is transactional. And even if they did truly like each other, even if they are truly in love, at the end of the day, they're using each other. And for the most gross thing in the world. FAME. And maybe even some other stuff, too.

Maybe topher is using her to feel young and she is using him to raise her stature.

Who fucking knows.

I'm not inclined to say which one I believe, you guys can make your own judgements, but my point is; there is a plethora of possible situations and outcomes in this, it isn't black and white and it isn't just pr/real.

It goes a lot deeper than this.

Wait until you guys find out people in HW get married and have kids for PR purposes. Then all hell breaks loose, lol

[doomednarrative]

Kiriya for the character asks!

First impression:

This was my actual first impression of him so I'm just gonna stick it here lol

Impression now:

FUCK ME WHERE TO BEGIN!!!! I am SUCH a sucker for characters who are liars, either as a defense mechanism or just guys who cannot be honest for the life of them even when they try, and by god did Kiriya fit that bill to make me obsessed with him in every way. Here's a guy who cares so much and who told the truth before and it backfired so horribly and hurt so bad that he cannot make that same mistake again and so he continues to push away the people he gives a shit about by putting up a lying face in order to protect them. And it gets him killed!! And then he comes back and he still has problems being honest about stuff but god if he doesnt make his actual feelings known in other ways and I'm just. He's such a character. For as long of an abscense as he had in the show he leaves Such an impact and even his missing piece in the narrative serves to drive it forward in very important ways. He means the world to me I could talk about him forever, very close to being my favorite guy in all of Kamen Rider so far.

Favorite moment:

Augh. God. Too many. Really big fan of him beating Kuroto's ass to make a vaccine gashat tho that was a good damn episode all around. Also not in the series but in the novel he has a moment having to hold himself back from going after Emu's dad and punching him and I was rooting for him to do it tbh.

Idea for a story:

MANY TBH...I was/am working on a kiriparaemu series that takes place during/after the movies and the novel and one of them involves him and Parad talking about their respective places in Emu's lives while they play video games together, I was enjoying writing that one

Unpopular opinion:

None I guess? I agree with most people about him.

Favorite relationship:

Its kiriemu have we Seen my account lmao. But also very fond of him and Parad in any manor too

Favorite headcanon:

I like to think out of everyone in the main cast he's the best at cooking. He just has that energy to me tbh I think he'd learn at some point to impress people